Comparison is the Thief of Joy

Lately, I’ve been getting a lot of comments on my social media posts that say some version of:

“Well, you’re just a below-knee amputee — you have it easy.”

And I want to talk about that.

Because even though I know not everyone means harm with that kind of comment, it hurts. Deeply. And I think it’s important to name why.

Loss Doesn’t Follow a Ranking System

There’s this unspoken hierarchy people sometimes apply to amputation — where certain limb losses are seen as more difficult, more valid, or more deserving of sympathy. But pain doesn’t compete like that. Trauma doesn’t keep score. And healing certainly doesn’t follow a chart.

Being a below-knee amputee doesn’t mean I have it easy. It just means I have a different set of challenges. And while I do my best to stay active, positive, and adaptive, that doesn’t mean it’s been simple.

With my amputation comes loss. I have a friend who the same accident that amputated her leg killed her husband. I have another friend who lost his job — a huge part of his identity — when he became an amputee. We lose more than a limb.

There’s a Lot You Don’t See

What most people don’t realize is that amputation was just one part of my story.

I became an orphan as a child. I had to leave my home country and move across the world to get medical care that wasn’t available to me otherwise. The grief of losing a limb is real, but for me, it was layered with the grief of losing a culture, a language, a family, and everything familiar.

And even now, decades later, I still live with multiple health conditions that affect my organs. I’ve had hospitalizations where I didn’t know if I was going to survive. I’ve coded. I’ve woken up in the ICU. I’ve had to rebuild more than just my ability to walk — I’ve had to rebuild my sense of safety in my own body.

That doesn’t show up in a 15-second reel of me working out. But it’s real. And it’s heavy. And it lives with me every day.

Comparison Can Cut Both Ways

It’s not just the comments that downplay struggle that hurt. Sometimes, even comments that sound like compliments — like “I wish I could run like you” or “I could never do what you do” — can create the same kind of separation.

They can unintentionally put someone’s journey on a pedestal, without seeing the years of unseen effort, setbacks, and survival behind it. They can make it feel like someone’s story is unattainable or exceptional, when in reality, it’s just another human story — messy, hard-fought, imperfect.

Nobody lives the exact same battles. Nobody starts from the same place. And nobody is ahead or behind on some invisible scoreboard.

I love the reminder:
“Don’t compare your Chapter 1 to someone else’s Chapter 20.”

The snapshots you see online are just that — snapshots. They’re not the whole book. And your story is just as valid and important wherever you are right now.

I’m Not Telling You This for Sympathy

I’m not sharing this to make anyone feel bad or to compete in the pain Olympics. I’m sharing it to say:

We never really know what someone else is carrying.

So when you comment on someone’s appearance, or assume their situation is easier — or assume their progress is effortless — it can feel like a punch in the gut. Because it erases everything they’ve survived just to get to that point.

This Space Is Meant to Empower — Not Compare

I work hard to create a space online that’s empowering, real, and hopeful. I love showing what’s possible after amputation — not to show off, but to show others that they can thrive, too. But that doesn’t mean I’m not still healing in my own ways. And it definitely doesn’t mean I haven’t had to fight like hell to get where I am.

There is no easy version of limb loss. No shortcut through grief. No version of this that doesn’t change you.

Lead With Curiosity, Not Assumption

Next time you catch yourself thinking "they have it easier" — or "I’ll never be like them" — pause. Ask yourself:

• What might I not be seeing?

• What if their story is bigger than what’s on the surface?

• What would it feel like if someone downplayed my struggles or fast-forwarded my growth?

Comparison shrinks empathy. But curiosity expands it.

Thanks for being here — especially those of you who lead with compassion, ask thoughtful questions, and see the human behind the posts. That kind of support means more than you know.

If you’ve experienced this kind of comparison — in either direction — I’d love to hear from you. Let’s keep making space for honest conversations that honor all of our stories.