A Comparison Trap - Comparing Myself to a Romanticized Past

Last week I went mountain biking for the first time since my ACL surgery. It was a mix of experiences - on one hand, it felt great to be back on a bike doing something I love. On the other hand, it felt a little demoralizing to feel like a beginner again; my turns weren't fluid, and I didn't trust my body (for good reason!) or my bike. It brings us back to the oft-quoted Theodore Roosevelt pearl: Comparison is the thief of joy.

But this is a sneaky comparison, because it seems reasonable - after all, aren't I comparing my performance to my past performance? Isn't that reasonable? Well, yes and no. Let's dive in:

1. I may be romanticizing that past memory. Did things really feel as natural and fluid on a bike as I remember? Maybe. Then again, maybe not. It certainly seems possible that I am conjuring nostalgia for a past that was never quite as rosy as I'm painting it to be now.
2. But let's say that's not the case and I'm not simply being nostalgic - maybe I really am remembering an accurate version of myself. Even if this is the case, comparison still has issues because I am probably comparing myself to a previous peak rather than a typical pre-injury day. I'm not comparing like-for-like; I'm comparing old me's peak performance to current me's first day back on the bike in nine months. 
3. The only accurate comparison would be to compare current-day me to the last time I was off the bike for nine months and had a major reconstructive surgery... which... doesn't exist. So there is no accurate comparison that I can reasonably make.
4. And, lastly, even if there was an accurate comparison I could make to my past performance, I would be wise to ask myself what I have to gain by comparing my experience to a past memory. Does it serve me? Because before I started comparing, I was enjoying the experience for what it was. And after I let comparison creep in, I felt discontent rather than enjoyment.

Comparison, even to some memory of our past selves, is a natural response, but it may not be a healthy response. Comparison to how I (think I) used to feel threatened to steal my joy in my first dirt ride in many months, and offered nothing positive in exchange for that enjoyment.

Where does comparison to a past imagined version of yourself threaten to steal your joy? Could you stay anchored in the pleasure of that moment rather than bowing to the internal pressure to compare? Which option leaves you feeling more fulfilled? What serves you better, being grounded in the moment or comparing the moment to a "better" past?

When Healing isn't Linear (spoiler: it's never linear)

I just hit 3 months post-surgery on my ACL reconstruction.  It's been a tough three months. 

There are three main components to the healing: mobility, strength, and reintegration.  Mobility was the first one to check off my list.  I worked hard to bend and extend my knee, and by week 5ish, I had pretty full mobility (with some stiffness now and then).

The next is strength.  This is a long, slow haul to get the quadracep to re-engage.  Post-surgery, the body basically says, "um... something terrible is happening over there on that leg, so we're just going to ignore it," which would be a reasonable response except that I really want to be able to use my leg, major trauma included.  So rebuilding strength involves seemingly endless repetitions of squats, electric stimulation, and quad engagement to talk my nervous system into rebuilding quad connection and strength.

And, lastly, we have the reintegration of my ACL.  This is the process by which my bone and my new ACL (formerly part of my hamstring) grow together to provide long-term stability. This process takes up to six months, is integral to healing, and there's nothing you can do to speed it up. It's just going to take the time it takes. 

Why am I walking you through all of this? One, I want you to commiserate with me on the long road I'm on. Sigh. But, more importantly, I think that all healing (physical, emotional, spiritual, mental) has some portion of each component:

1. The part that's pretty much under my control, and if I work on it, I can heal. And the "amount" of healing is directly related to my daily efforts.
2. The part that needs a lot of reps. I have to put in daily work, but I won't see daily progress; I'll just see the evidence of the healing if I zoom out to weeks and months.
3. The part that is just going to take the time it needs. I can't control it, I can't speed it up. It's integral but nonlinear and uncontrollable. And, really, I only see the evidence of the healing when something catastrophic happens and either the healing holds, or it doesn't. 

How have you seen these patterns play out in your own healing journeys? And how do you cope with part 3, the stuff that's just going to take the time it takes? Asking for a friend 🙃

There is No One-Size-Fits-All

The other day, I was partaking of the collective wisdom of Instagram and came across the classic, "somewhere the narcissist in your life is reading an Instagram post that assures them that they are not the problem." So good. So true. Insta/LinkedIn/whatever are brimming with tips and suggestions, and we have to be wise consumers of that self-help content. 

Take my posts, for example. Of course, I try to share themes and ideas that will be generally helpful and avoid harm. But at the end of the day, I'm really just sharing what resonates with me and what I see working for my counseling and coaching clients. It's "generally applicable help."

But there's no one-size-fits-all for advice. And we all need to be careful consumers of the opinions we subscribe to. And we need to look inside to decide whether the advice we're hearing is helpful and appropriate for our unique selves in our unique situation. 

But what if we don't know whether the advice we're considering is a pearl of wisdom, pop-psych junk food, or simply doesn't apply to us and our needs? That's a great time to tap into your community. Ask a trusted friend or family member whether this advice seems helpful for you. Collect data from trusted sources and your internal compass, and make an informed choice based on the data at hand. But - here's the trick - treat the application of the advice as an experiment. Try it out and observe the results. Do you see positive or helpful results in you and around you? If so, maybe try it some more and collect more data. If not, then maybe it's not such an applicable idea for you right here and right now. 

All the advice we see and hear belongs in one of two camps:

1. It's generally appropriate advice that applies, more or less, to most people (but maybe not to unique you in your unique situation!)
2. It's specific advice for folks in a specific situation (which won't apply to you unless you're the target audience)

Be a smart consumer and run open-minded experiments; there is no such thing as a one-size-fits-all solution.