Worthiness Wednesday #64 I don't follow

So there's this girl. A blogger. An artist. Similar age to me. Lives on the other side of the planet. She's doing well. She works hard. She seems like a nice person.

I have never met her. I have nothing against her. I wish her well.

But BOY! Does she push my buttons!

Every time I read one of her blog posts, clap eyes on her art, receive her newsletter, glance at one of her tweets, I can feel my blood pressure rising.

"Jeez, isn't it all so easy for you," I think, "You and your beautiful art and your successful business and your loving family and your amazing house and your gorgeous figure and your phenomenal wardrobe and your high-profile friends and your book deal and your holidays and and and..."

And and and by the time I log off, I am pretty convinced that my own art/blog/family/house/appearance/friends/aspirations/life are thoroughly crap by comparison.

Now, in saying this, I want to make something perfectly clear. I do not blame this gal for the way I feel. Sure, she is an astute businesswoman and savvy self-promoter. But I know that she does not post on her blog and pursue her creative dreams with the express purpose of making me feel like crap. She's just doing her thing.

I don't want her to stop.

I just want her to stop bugging the crap out of me.

Because, while I am not inclined to blame her for the way I feel, I am inclined to blame myself to within an inch of my life for the ugly feelings that arise when I see all that she does and all that she has. It feels crazily disproportionate, and beyond just jealousy.

So, yes, I am doing the work. I'm delving deep, and am open to all the clues that those strong feelings -- and subsequent feelings of blah -- have to teach me. (One of my touchstones for this is the wonderful article written by Jenna McGuiggan a few years ago, which still blows me away.)

But I am also doing something a little simpler, which I suspect may be the single most instrumental way of claiming back my power.

I'm not following her blog any more.

I have removed her blog from my reader. Unsubscribed from her mailing list. Unfollowed her tweets.

It sounds very simple, and it is. Strangely enough, it only occurred to me this week that I could do this. For some reason, I felt compelled (maybe even obligated) to keep following. It really did feel compulsive. Sometimes addictive. Often obsessive. And I'm taking both about the inspiration/delight/perfectly reasonable envious swoon and the self flagellation for not measuring up to something illusory/unrealistic/just not me.

Some day, I may sign up again and join this gal's fan base once more. Or maybe not. Perhaps someone else will step into the place I have required her to vacate.

At the end of the day, I suspect that doesn't really matter. What does matter -- and what is most critical to me right now -- is that sense of spaciousness that comes from stepping off the comparison treadmill.

This week, will you step off that treadmill with me? Will you give yourself permission to put that beating stick down and turn a blind eye to the people you might compare yourself to? Could it be that the act of putting those blinkers on might actually open your vision to all the wonderful things you actually do have in your life?

Because this I can tell you for sure: it's all there waiting for you, when you are ready to stop chasing the illusion. And you are worthy of the lead role in your one rare precious unrepeatable beautiful life.