Joy to the world (spoiler alert: #notchristmasyet)

Apparently comparison is the thief of joy according to the numerous Insta-inspiration posts I've seen of late. I follow a whole bunch mainly because they feed my somewhat twisted sense of humour. And partly because rainbow pictures are nice.

On the surface, this seems like a good titbit of wisdom. For example, I will never have the boobs of a Victoria Secret model. Too many humans sucking on them for too long, and countless years of rebelling against the need for a bra as a teen have left my assets somewhat lacking in the perkiness department. If I gave a shit about that, and lusted after tits that did not require, in essence, scaffolding to hoist them above knee level then yes. Comparison is futile and would make me sad. 

But there's something about this trite little phrase that irks me somewhat. A slight smugness I suppose; the idea that whatever our lot we should just suck it up and crack on. It sounds like the kind of soundbite advice condescendingly dished out to those people who just won't stop moaning that life isn't fair. 

Surely in striving for a equal society where everyone is treated justly and given a similar shot at reaching their potential comparison has to be a thing? Life absolutely isn't fair. And by throwing shade on comparison and telling people to be happy whatever, we make change ten times more difficult and create this idea that joy stems solely from your attitude. Which, for the record, I call bullshit on. 

I've had a few people shut me down with this over the years for daring to express the very real fact that life has panned out distinctly differently than we could have ever imagined. Usually those in very comfortable situations. Funny that. In stark contrast, my whole existence is geared up around a 10 year old whose current favourite activity is posting cars down a tube and tipping them onto his face. I've tried it myself and have to give it to the kid- the plastic car-to-face contact definitely carries a certain je ne sais quoi. 

With the best will in the world, happiness is not solely my responsibility. I mean, wandering around with a face like a smacked arse for the next few decades probably won't do me any favours, and I can choose how to respond in certain situations to make them more palatable, of course I can. Grit my teeth and smile at the prick who cut me up when I actually want to flip them the finger; choose to scream into a pillow and not in my kid's face, all that sort of stuff. But never comparing my situation to anyone else's leaves me on seriously shaky ground. All perspective on what is and isn't acceptable for us as humans goes out of the window. 

Let me explain. When you live in a chronically tricky circumstance you normalise to get through. Example. I am permanently covered in scratch marks from B's frustrated outbursts, but if I had a typical emotional response to that every time it happened I'd be a nervous wreck. Unhelpful. Anytime I go out in public I spend the majority of time manhandling my kid away from hazardous everythings to the barely-but-still audible tuts of the general public. If I let this fuck me off I would never leave the house. B can and does have seizures at any time in all the places. I normalise this so I can function and deal with it appropriately when it happens, and so I can effectively manage everyone else's responses without full household breakdown. 

Do I compare my situation to other people's? Yes. Of course I do. Firstly, because I have absolutely no choice in the matter. I see other humans on a regular basis, and every time I rescue B from some unsuspecting persons' crotch I am again reminded that usually, 10 year olds do not have a running-into-fat-people-for-the-sensory-feedback fetish. Secondly, if I didn't compare, I wouldn't care. I wouldn't be bothered that society is such an unforgiving and unaccommodating place for those among us who are different. I would just put up and shut up. Why should my boy be afforded dignified rights to toileting in public places due to his vastly different needs? I'll tell you why. Because he's a person, and generally people have access to toilets when they're out and about. See. Comparison. It's important. It drives change. 

I'm pretty sure Rosa Parks didn't just decide to be happy with her lot. She compared herself with those white people on the bus, and decided the treatment of black people just wasn't fair. As a result she sat her ass down and sparked an incredible movement towards equality. Good job insta wasn't around then with its infinite wisdom. 

OK. Rant over. I think it's all too easy these days (God, I sound old!) to turn to social media, or Google, or whatever else floats your boat, for nice sounding nuggets of advice. The easily digestible inspirational fast food, which initially tastes great but doesn't really provide any sort of solid nutrition. 

So yeah. Please don't offer me your Maccy D's. I'm a wholesome hippy vegan kind of gal.