I’m a master at this.  I often find myself comparing my life to anyone and everyone.  The thing about the comparison game for me is that there is only one rule-I lose.  It doesn’t matter if I’m comparing myself to a working mom or a stay at home mom.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a single mom or a married mom, or someone who has chosen not to have kids.  I either find the beauty in their simple life, or the splendor in their sophisticated life.  The assumption is that they have somehow made choices that are authentic, that they have created a life of value that is somehow superior to the way I’m living.  I’m not quite sure how this evolved.  Why at my age I take so much at face value, without knowing the real story.  I also have a critical eye-not necessarily for others, but one that is constantly looking back at me, reflecting what I often feel I’m missing.  Maybe that’s why I have become so interested in stories-real stories, or at least stories that reflect real emotions.  Emotions that people feel underneath the facades that we see.  In some ways I’ve grown, and I know better at times.  After all, it has been proven time and time again that the picture I’ve perceived isn’t the whole picture.  The presumed perfect husband that cheats, the seemingly sound relationship that falls apart, the accomplished peer who is unveiled as neurotic or unstable;  And yet, I still play this circular game.  Two things I try to remind myself when I find my thoughts in this fruitless dance are: You can’t compare outsides to insides, and life is personal, unique and individual.  The first thought speaks for itself.  There is always more to life than we see on the surface, and in my community people work very hard to project only the pretty parts.  The second, reminds me that we are all so unique that our own truths can only be found on our own journeys.