As a young man, Al was a skilled artist. He had a wife and two fine sons. One night, his elder son developed a serious stomachache. Thinking it was only some common disorder, neither Al nor his wife took the condition very seriously. But it was actually acute appendicitis (急性阑尾炎), and the boy died suddenly that night.

Knowing the death could have been prevented if he had only realized the seriousness of the situation, Al’s emotional health grew worse under the burden of his guilt. To make matters worse, his wife left him a short time later, leaving him alone with his six-year-old younger son. The hurt and pain of the two situations were more than Al could handle, and he turned to alcohol. As the alcoholism progressed, Al began to lose everything he possessed.

When I heard of Al’s death, I reacted with disdain (轻蔑). “What a complete failure!” I thought.

As time went by, I began to take my earlier judgment into consideration again. I knew Al’s now adult son, Ernie. He has grown into one of the kindest, most caring and most loving men I have ever known. One day I worked up my courage to talk about my puzzle with him.

Ernie sat quietly and reflected for a few moments. Then he said, “From my earliest memories as a child until I left home at 18, Al came into my room every night, gave me a kiss and said, ‘I love you, son.’”

Tears came to my eyes as I realized what a fool I had been to judge Al as a failure. He had not left any material possessions behind. But he had been a kind loving father, and he left behind one of the finest, most giving men I have ever known.

When we were kids, we were constantly compared to others. Our parents might compare us to our sisters or brothers. Our teachers probably compared us to other students. Kids compared us to other kids.

Those comparisons created either a sense of humiliation or a sense of pride. Either way, it has become second-nature. Everything we’d done has been followed by looking around and seeking confirmation.

During junior high, there was one girl who was super smart, A+ student. Teachers adored her, praised her; she received awards, special privileges, had opportunities presented to her and no one else, etc.

We all knew she was special and we were not. The message of recognition for her exceptional intelligence was translated differently to the rest of the youth. I had a teacher once saying “if more students were like her, we would have a more productive school.” Even though those were the words spoken, I interpreted them as “she is a good student, but you are not. You are the reason why this school isn’t living up to its potential”.

When you catch yourself comparing yourself to others, get curious about the feeling that is being caused. Is it jealousy? Is it obsession? Is it admiration? Is it love? Is it inspiration? Those feelings will give you a clue as to what is going on within you.

Most likely, you are jealous because you wish you had what it takes to achieve what others have achieved or to have what they have. Get curious and figure out why you still don’t have it and what it would take to get there.

It is never a good idea to make yourself wrong for comparing yourself to others or to make yourself wrong for not getting where you wish to be. But if all this comparison causes is bitter jealousy, then your problem is bigger than a simple comparison. Always bear in mind that your only competition is the one in the mirror and — believe me — it is the toughest competition of all.

I was never very neat, while my roommate Kate was extremely organized. Each of her objects had its place, but mine always hid somewhere. She even labeled(贴标签) everything. I always looked for everything. Over time, Kate got neater and I got messier. She would push my dirty clothing over, and I would lay my books on her tidy desk. We both got tired of each other.

War broke out one evening. Kate came into the room. Soon, I heard her screaming. “Take your shoes away! Why under my bed!” Deafened, I saw my shoes flying at me. I jumped to my feet and started yelling. She yelled back louder.

The room was filled with anger. We could not have stayed together for a single minute but for a phone call. Kate answered it. From her end of the conversation, I could tell right away her grandma was seriously ill. When she hung up, she quickly crawled(爬under her covers, sobbing. Obviously, that was something she should not go through alone. All of a sudden, a warm feeling of sympathy rose up in my heart.

Slowly, I collected the pencils, took back the books, made my bed, cleaned the socks and swept the floor, even on her side. I got so into my work that I even didn’t notice Kate had sat up. She was watching, her tears dried and her expression one of disbelief. Then, she reached out her hands to grasp mine. I looked up into her eyes. She smiled at me, “Thanks.”

Kate and I stayed roommates for the rest of the year. We didn’t always agree, but we learned the key to living together: giving in, cleaning up and holding on.