The weight of comparison

Grade 11 learner, Akshara Garib of Earlington Secondary School shares a powerful column on insecurities that plague young people as they navigate their growing years.

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I remember standing before my mirror one evening, scrutinising myself as though I were a problem awaiting correction. I adjusted my hair, changed my posture, and searched my reflection for something I could not name. I was not looking at myself. I was looking for enough. Pretty enough. Clever enough. Interesting enough. Worthy enough.

In my view, many of us know that feeling.

For me, insecurity did not begin with a mirror. It began with comparisons. During my pre‑teen years, I became increasingly aware of my appearance and how others perceived it. At an age when I was still learning who I was, I was often compared to others and became painfully conscious of myself. Slowly, I began viewing myself through a lens of criticism.

In my experience, insecurity is often portrayed as a battle with appearance. But it stretches much further than our reflections. It creeps into classrooms, friendships, relationships and even our dreams. We compare our grades to the student who always excels, our personalities to the person who effortlessly commands attention, and our achievements to those who seem to have their entire lives figured out. And if we are not comparing ourselves to someone else, there is usually somebody already doing it for us.

Somewhere along the way, many of us begin measuring our worth against everyone else's successes and wondering why we never seem to be enough.

I know this because I have felt it myself. For a long time, I believed that if I could somehow fit the image of who I thought I was supposed to be, I would finally feel at peace with myself. I spent years trying to become a version of myself that I thought would be more acceptable, only to discover that insecurity has a cruel way of moving the finish line. You convince yourself that happiness exists on the other side of one more achievement, one more improvement, one more change, only to arrive there and realise that the feeling of inadequacy has followed you. Even after all my attempts to change, the doubts remained.

Even now, in my Grade 11 year, the insecurity I felt in primary school has not completely left me. I have simply grown above parts of it, and I am still growing above the rest. Some days are easier than others. Some days I still stand before a mirror and see myself through the eyes of my insecurities rather than my own. I have not overcome it entirely, and perhaps that honesty matters. I am still trying to find my spark again.

If you have ever felt this way too, I need you to know that you are not alone.

Academically, I have felt it too. I have always been considered intelligent, yet I often feel as though I am not allowed to make mistakes. One disappointing mark can suddenly make me question my abilities entirely. In my view, it does not come from a desire to become smarter. It comes from an insecurity that perhaps I was never enough to begin with.

Insecurity infiltrates every aspect of your life. It changes the way you think. You second‑guess your opinions before speaking, hesitate to try new things, and overthink every mistake. Sometimes, it feels as though you are grieving a version of yourself that existed before you started doubting everything.

Perhaps the cruellest part of insecurity is that it isolates us. It convinces us that everyone else has somehow figured life out and that we alone are defective.

We are not.

The person sitting beside you in class may be worrying that they are not intelligent enough. The athlete everyone admires may feel that their accomplishments are never sufficient. The person with hundreds of followers online may still feel unseen. Insecurity does not discriminate.

And perhaps that is why this conversation matters so much.

In my opinion, words have a remarkable ability to shape how people see themselves. A comment that means little to one person can become another person's inner voice for years. We should be kinder with our words, especially to young people who are still learning who they are. We should also question the societal standards that convince us we all need to look, think, achieve and exist in the same way. We were never created to be copies of one another.

I wish I could say that I have completely overcome my insecurities, but that would not be true. I am still learning. I know that I am flawed and imperfect, but perhaps that is exactly what makes me human. I am learning that my worth cannot be measured by appearance, a mark on a report, or somebody else's opinion of me.

So, if you have ever stared at yourself and wondered whether you are enough, know this: you are standing beside millions of others who have asked the very same question.

But perhaps the question we should really be asking is this: if every person you know is secretly wondering whether they are enough, then who taught an entire generation to believe that they are not?

Akshara Garib, Grade 11 Earlington Secondary