I watched one “clean girl” video while my hair was doing its usual morning thing, which is existing in a state of negotiation, and I swear my brain took it as a personal challenge. 

The video was calm, glowing, and suspiciously quiet, like the person lived inside a cloud that only served iced matcha and gentle ambition. By the time she poured her water into a perfectly sized glass, I had already decided my entire apartment was failing as a concept.

Not in a dramatic, world-ending way, but in that specific modern way where you look around your space and suddenly notice every unfinished task, every clutter corner, and every random item you own that does not match anything else. 

I could feel myself getting irritated, which is how I knew it had hit a nerve, because I wasn’t just watching a video, I was comparing my behind-the-scenes to someone else’s highlight reel, and I was losing that comparison like it was a sport.

Comparison is not a plan, and the second you start treating it like one, you stop seeing what your life actually needs.

The Exact Moment I Got Offended, Like the Video Had Personally Called Me Out

The video wasn’t even mean, which is what makes it funnier, because it wasn’t like someone looked into the camera and said, “If you own more than three hair ties, you are a chaotic gremlin.”

It was just the quiet confidence of it all, the matching jars, the spotless sink, the perfectly folded towel, the skincare routine that looked like it happened in a museum, and it made me feel like I was doing everything wrong even though I was simply existing in my own home.

And that’s when I got personally offended, because a part of me wanted to be that version of me, and another part of me wanted to throw a hot glue gun at the concept of perfection.

The message was already there, hiding under my irritation, because irritation is usually the first sign that I’m comparing instead of listening to myself.

Why Comparison Feels Like a Plan When You’re Tired

I think comparison sneaks in hardest when you’re already a little worn down, because it offers a simple story, and tired brains love simple stories. 

If someone else looks calm, then I must be doing it wrong. If someone else has a perfect routine, then I must be behind. If someone else’s life looks effortless, then my life must be messy because I’m not trying hard enough.

That story feels convincing because it’s fast, but fast stories are rarely true stories, and they’re almost never useful stories. They don’t tell you what would actually help, and they don’t tell you what’s realistic for your schedule, your personality, or your actual energy.

Comparison points at someone else’s result and says, “Do that,” but it never tells you what the steps were, what the support was, what the trade-offs were, or what part of the video was literally staged for a camera. 

The Tiny Shift That Brought Me Back to Myself

I stopped mid-cabinet and asked myself a question that felt annoyingly simple, which is, “What do I actually need right now, not what would look good on camera?”

That question changed everything, because the answer wasn’t “a new aesthetic,” the answer was “less pressure.” The answer was also “a snack,” which is humbling, but true, because half my personality issues disappear when I eat something at a normal time.

So I ate, I drank water, and I looked around my apartment again, and this time I tried to see it like a real home instead of a set. 

There was a project on the floor because I make things. There were dishes because I live here. There were piles because I’m in the middle of a week, not the beginning of a new identity.

Comparison is not a plan, and I could feel the truth of that in my body, because the moment I stopped comparing, I stopped rushing.

What “Clean Girl” Me Would Do, and What Real Me Actually Needs

The fantasy version of me thinks she needs a five-step morning routine and matching containers to be okay, but the real version of me usually needs something much simpler.

I used to think choosing the simpler thing meant I wasn’t trying hard enough, and now I’m realizing the simpler thing is often the only thing that sticks, because it fits in my real life instead of requiring me to become someone else.

So instead of trying to transform my entire home, I picked one small action that was actually mine, not copied from a video, and I did it gently. I rinsed the mug, I put the soap back where it belonged, and I made my bed in the lazy way, which is pulling the blanket up and calling it a day, and I let that count as care.

That’s the message living inside the moment, because the plan isn’t “be her,” the plan is “support me.”

The Part That Made Me Laugh, and Also Made Me Let Go

Later, I opened my phone again and saw another video, same vibe, same glossy calm, and I felt the same tiny flare of “must be nice,” except this time I caught myself and laughed, because I realized I was treating a curated aesthetic like a life requirement. 

I am not offended because the video exists, I’m offended because a part of me believes I’m only lovable, successful, or worthy of peace if my life looks like that, and that belief is what I’m trying to unlearn.

Comparison is not a plan, and it’s definitely not a measure of your worth. I assumed someone else’s calm meant my mess was a failure, when my mess is often just proof that I’m living, creating, and moving through real days.

The Message, Woven Through the Whole Day

Every time I caught myself thinking, “I should be more like that,” I tried to replace it with a question that led back to my actual life, like “What would make the next hour easier?” or “What is one small thing I can do that helps future me without making present me miserable?”

That’s what a plan looks like, and it’s not glamorous, but it works. A plan is specific to you. A plan includes your energy level. A plan respects your time. A plan doesn’t demand that you become a different person just to deserve a peaceful morning.

Comparison just points and judges, and judgment has never once helped me fold a fitted sheet or feel okay about my own pace.

Here’s the part I messed up, so you don’t have to: I thought the answer was to chase a vibe, when the real answer was to take care of myself in a way that fits my real day.

What I’m Keeping From This, Without Turning It Into Homework

I’m not quitting inspiration, because I genuinely love pretty routines and calm spaces, and I’m also not pretending aesthetics don’t affect mood, because they do. 

What I am quitting is the idea that aesthetics are the entry fee for a good life, because a good life is built out of ordinary moments, and most of those moments are not filmed.

So now, when I see something that triggers comparison, I try to turn it into information instead of a verdict. If I like the calm vibe, I ask myself what “calm” means for me today.

Comparison is not a plan, but curiosity can be, especially when the curiosity is gentle. Your life doesn’t need to be aesthetic to be good, and you don’t have to earn peace by performing it.

Your Turn

Tell me the kind of video that makes you instantly compare, even if you hate admitting it, because I want to normalize how human this is, and I also want to know what your “real life version” of calm looks like when you’re not trying to impress anyone.