If Grog in the cave next door managed to bag an extra mammoth for dinner, you'd want to figure out how he did it so you didn't become an underfed fossil. Fast-forward a few thousand years to medieval times, and you were either sporting a fancy hat with a feather and a family crest or trying to avoid being trampled by said fancy-hatted noble's horse. Comparing yourself wasn't just idle curiosity—it was downright self-preservation, although about as fun as getting your toe stomped on by a chain-mailed knight. When I was eight, I visited Dublin or "up for the day" with my sister, who lived in a tiny flat in Rathmines. I saw a guy wearing a Nottingham Forest jersey at the bus stop. In the '80s, that sight was rarer than a unicorn. Suddenly, I felt this pang of "Why don't I have one too?" It was like pre-internet FOMO, and that red jersey remains my first real brush with envy. Nowadays, though, we've slapped turbo boosters on this ancient habit. Thanks to our phones, it's not just the neighbour with a slightly bigger car. You're now pitted against a global army of 7.8 billion people—some of whom own four Lamborghinis, three private jets, and a mini giraffe named Gerald. Social media is the world's largest highlight reel, shining so brightly that we stumble around feeling overshadowed. Historically, you only sized yourself up against the people you physically encountered. Now, in about two minutes of scrolling, you can see achievements from more humans than you'll ever meet. It's like going from your local karaoke night to the Olympics of "Who's Got the Best Life?" After some furious Googling, I stumbled upon Leon Festinger's Social Comparison Theory. It might sound drier than a stale biscuit, but hear me out: Festinger proposed that we have an unstoppable urge—like an itch in the middle of our back we can't quite reach—to evaluate our opinions and abilities. When we lack a concrete benchmark, we peek at others to see how we stack up. Sometimes, it motivates us; other times, it sends us down a self-loathing spiral faster than you can say, "I'll never have abs like that." So what's the best thing you can do to stop this madness? (Cue the drum roll.) Reward yourself. The next time you catch yourself resisting the urge to compare your beloved 2008 hatchback to your colleague's snazzy sports car, pause and celebrate. High-five the nearest reflective surface or spend a moment doing something that genuinely boosts your mood (but in a healthy way—maybe not inhaling a dozen tunnocks tea cakes, although I admire your enthusiasm). And if you feel that sneaky "I'm not good enough" pang creeping in, try mindful breathing. Inhale for four counts, hold for four, exhale for four—giving your frantic brain a mini bank holiday weekend. Or take out a journal or your phone and write down two or three things you're grateful for. It nudges your mind off the negative track and onto a more positive one. If you're really stuck, step outside for a brisk walk. Let the fresh air and forward motion blow the cobwebs out of your noggin. Or phone a friend who'll remind you that you're doing just fine—and maybe even crack a joke that'll make you snort-laugh. I have Marty Morrisey on speed dial! Why does rewarding yourself work so brilliantly? Because each little celebration sets off your brain's reward system, sprinkling a dash of dopamine—your internal confetti cannon. Eventually, your mind starts to associate not comparing yourself with that sweet dopamine hit. Suddenly, you automatically veer away from the "Who's-better-than-whom" carnival and focus on your own wins. It's a bit like training a puppy with treats—only, in this case, the puppy is your mind, and the treat might be an episode of your favourite sitcom or a chat with a beloved friend. By the way, it's also possible to feel wholly convinced and accurate that ninety per cent of what you see on your Vista feed is complete and utter, you know what. Of course, we need a few little mind games in all aspects of our lives to help us get through the tough days, but one home-spun adage seems to ring particularly true when it comes to social media: "Far away fields are green" or as my Granny used to say "The cows in Kerry have longer horns" (I couldn't find any bovine expert to verify this claim). These activities help steady your dopamine levels without requiring a sugar coma or marathon doom-scrolling. They offer a constructive, feel-good kick and keep you moving forward—physically, emotionally, and in any other "-ally" you fancy. Over time, you'll notice your reactions to those "I'm not good enough" jabs changing. You'll have more control and perspective and shine the spotlight back where it belongs: on the wonderful weirdness that is you. And therein lies the key to the comparison trap. Sure, maybe you don't own a mini giraffe named Gerald or have five Lambos in the driveway, but who cares? Sure, the tax and insurance on them are wicked high anyway! As for the Nottingham Forest shirt? I'm going to buy one for my birthday.