E17 What To Do When Everyone Else Looks Better
So you find yourself scrolling through Instagram or Pinterest—just for a minute, you tell yourself—looking for a little inspiration. And then boom. There it is. Someone else’s perfectly lit, impeccably styled, flawlessly sewn (or so it seems) masterpiece. And you think, “Why bother? Mine doesn’t look like that.”
Yeah. Me too. Me too.
Today, we’re talking about the sneaky, subtle poison that is comparison—and how to break free from it so you can actually enjoy your creative life again.
Now, I’m not talking about the act of comparison itself. We all know we shouldn’t do it. Right? End of story. Don’t compare, just stay in your lane, focus on yourself, blah blah blah. Sure. Great advice. Super easy. Done.
Except… it’s not. Because it doesn’t work like that.
What I am talking about today is how comparison shows up when you’re not even aware of it. The ways it slowly messes with your confidence. The way it keeps you from putting your work out there, and messes with your visibility. The way it messes with your pricing and your mindset and your joy. Not because you meant to let it in, but because that sneaky little voice got in there when you weren’t looking.
Let’s knock comparison out for good so you can build that confidence to put yourself out there and charge what you’re worth. I’m going to share a few stories and a few real-life strategies that helped me get out of the spiral. And I’m going to give you a few shifts you may not have thought about—things that will help you rethink that insane urge to “just take a quick peek” at what everyone else is doing.
Because I’ve been there too. And I didn’t like it.
The thing about comparison is that it doesn’t always come crashing in like a wrecking ball. Sometimes, it’s more like a slow leak—this quiet little whisper that says, “You’re not quite as good. Not quite as original. Not quite there.”
You don’t always recognize it for what it is. One day you’re excited about a new project, and the next day… you’re avoiding your sewing room. You keep opening the door, looking at the mess, and thinking, “Eh… not today.” You start feeling like your work doesn’t count. Like it’s too simple. Too late. Too far behind what other people are doing.
That’s comparison. That vague unease that shows up wearing a million different disguises. It’s the voice behind all the shoulda, woulda, coulda thoughts—the ones that make you second-guess your own dreams and desires.
And the worst part? We don’t compare our real lives to someone else’s real life. We compare our messy middle to someone else’s polished, well-lit, photoshopped finish line. It’s like comparing your first sewing pattern to someone else’s best-selling product. You’re measuring your beginning against their middle—or even their endgame.
And yes, I’m going to tell you to stop doing that.
But I also know you won’t.
Because comparison isn’t something you “fix.” It’s not a disease you cure. It’s more like a condition you manage—something you have to learn to live with, and learn to recognize, so it doesn’t run the show.
It creeps into your confidence, your creativity, and your momentum. You find yourself thinking, “Who do I think I am to charge that?” Or “No one is going to look at my stuff—why bother?” Or the big one: “Why would anyone want my ideas when there are already a million people doing this better?”
And just like that—paralysis. Creative shutdown. The fabric stays on the shelf, the ideas stay in your head, and you decide maybe you’re just not cut out for this after all.
And don’t even get me started on social media—where everything looks like an overnight success. Spoiler alert: it never is. But we’ll get to that a little later.
I wish I could tell you this happened just once. That I had one moment where comparison crept in, messed with my head, and I figured it out and never struggled again.
But… that’s not how this works. Not for me, anyway.
Comparison has been a theme in my creative life for as long as I can remember. I went to art school. Then fashion design school. And let me tell you—there is nothing like sitting in a classroom full of wildly talented, extremely confident creatives to make you feel like you don’t belong. These were people who seemed so much more advanced, so much more skilled, so much more certain. Meanwhile, I was in the back row wondering if anyone else noticed I was faking it.
Then I moved into the clothing design world, and it didn’t get any better. When your job is to create something new, something beautiful, something better every single day—and you’re surrounded by other professional designers doing the same thing—you can’t help but look around and wonder, Why does it seem so much easier for them?
And now? Now I’m in the online space. I’ve narrowed my focus to fabric and fiber creatives who want to build a small but mighty business. I teach creativity. I teach patternmaking. And I’m really, really good at it. But guess what? There are hundreds of people out there doing the same thing. So of course, I’ve been through the spiral. Is there room for me? What do I have to offer that’s different? Why would anyone pick me over them?
And let me tell you—comparison nearly talked me out of doing it at all. I came very close to walking away. I thought, If they’re already doing it, and they’re doing it well, maybe I should just go do something else.
That doubt took a toll. It made me hesitate to put myself out there. It made me feel like an imposter in my own space. And it definitely made me question whether I could make this work.
I feel it every time I start a new mixed media collection, too. The questions come rushing in: Will anyone like this? Will anyone buy this? What if they say something negative? What if no one says anything at all?
But here’s what I’ve learned—and I have to remind myself of this all the time: I teach in a very different way. My brain works differently. I explain things differently. And no one else includes the one secret ingredient that I bring to the table—an approach that gives my students a distinct advantage. That’s not arrogance. That’s clarity.
So what helped me get out of the spiral?
I had to take my own advice. Just. Put. It. Out. There. See what happens. Nothing is permanent. You can always tweak it. Adjust it. Pull it back if you need to. But sitting in silence, waiting for perfection or permission—that’s what keeps you stuck.
The shift came when I st opped asking what they thought… and started asking what I thought. I had to come back to my why. Why was I doing this in the first place? What did I want to build? And more importantly—who did I want to help?
Because my “why” is not their “why.” My strengths are not their strengths. And the people I’m meant to serve? They’re not following someone else. They’re waiting for me.
Let’s talk about confidence for a minute. Because this—this is where comparison does some of its worst damage.
Confidence is one of those things that takes years to build… but only seconds to shake. And unfortunately, our brains are wired to give negative input way more power than the positive. It’s a survival thing. If a sabertooth tiger is nearby, you want your brain to really remember that. But unfortunately, the same wiring kicks in when you see someone’s curated studio on Pinterest and suddenly decide your workspace is a mess and you’re obviously not cut out for this.
You could get ten compliments on something you made… and one quiet little voice in your head that says, “Yeah, but it’s not that good.” And guess which voice gets the spotlight? Yep.
And the worst part? That voice doesn’t always sound like a bully. It can sound really reasonable. “I’m not being negative,” you tell yourself, “I’m just being realistic.” I’m just being practical. I’m just trying to be humble. I’m just not ready yet.
But let me tell you what that voice actually is. It’s self-doubt in a sensible cardigan. It’s fear disguised as maturity. It’s your brain trying to keep you safe from the unknown—because being visible is risky. And making things for other people to see, or wear, or buy? That’s terrifying. You’re putting your heart on display and asking someone to value it.
That takes guts. That takes confidence.
And when you’re constantly comparing your “in progress” to someone else’s “polished and photoshopped,” it’s no wonder that confidence starts to crack. That’s when we hesitate. That’s when we play small. That’s when we give up halfway, not because we’re not good enough—but because we think we’re not.
But here’s the truth: confidence isn’t about feeling ready. It’s about doing it anyway.
Confidence comes from action. It comes from doing the thing. It comes from making the post, selling the first item, uploading the wonky product photo, fumbling through your first livestream, sending the email, putting yourself out there… and then realizing, hey—I survived.
You don’t gain confidence by standing still and thinking about it. We didn’t learn to walk by sitting on the couch. And when we were babies, we didn’t look around and say, “Well, everyone else is already walking. No point in me trying.”
No—we pulled ourselves up, we wobbled around, we fell, we got up again. And we kept going.
That’s how it works. For everyone. Even that person with the perfectly styled feed and the amazing product shots? They started right where you are. Take their success as proof of concept. They did it and survived which means it’s possible. Therefore, if they can figure it out, so can you!
So if comparison is shaking your confidence right now—remember, you’re not behind. You’re just at the part where you’re still building.
The next place comparison really wreaks havoc is with visibility.
Because here’s what happens: you scroll, you compare, and then that voice shows up again—“If my work doesn’t look like hers, why bother posting it?” And just like that, you stop.
You stop sharing your work. You stop showing up. You skip social media, you avoid taking photos, you keep your creations to yourself—not because you don’t love what you do, but because you’ve convinced yourself it’s not “ready” yet. Or not “as good” as hers. Or not “worthy” of being seen.
And listen—if you’re creating just for yourself, for your home, for your closet or your family, then that’s totally fine. You don’t need to be visible if that’s not your goal.
But if you want other people to want what you make—if you want to sell your work, build a business, or even just connect with people who get what you do—then they have to know you exist.
Let me say that again: they must know that you do it.
And the only way for them to know that is to see it. To see you. Your work. Your process. Your energy. It’s got to be out there, in the world. A lot. Repeatedly. That’s what visibility is.
And comparison? That’s a scary proposition! Comparison kills that momentum before it even starts. Do you REALLY want to do that? What if someone doesn’t like it. Are you SURE? You think it’s good enough? You REALLY want people to see that? Protection? I think not!
Because while you’re stuck in your head, worrying that it’s not perfect, someone else is out there showing up—messy, imperfect, maybe not even as experienced—but visible. And that visibility? That’s what builds trust. That’s what grows an audience. That’s what leads to opportunity.
So the next time you hesitate to post something, ask yourself—Is this hesitation really about the photo, the work, the art… or is it about who I’m comparing it to? Is it about fear?
Because I’m telling you now—your people can’t connect with what they can’t see.
And trust me when I tell you – the world will not end. They won’t come after you. There is a very good chance that no one will notice at first. Go ahead. Take that first step toward putting yourself out there. Each time you’ll get better. Each time more people will notice. Each time get s so much easier. Thank comparison for its concern, but tell it you’ll be just fine, and do it.
And while we’re at it, let’s talk about pricing—because comparison loves to sneak in here too.
How many times have you looked at what someone else is charging and thought, “Well, they’re only charging twenty bucks… I guess I should too.”
This right here? This is one of the fastest ways to burn out and start resenting your creative work.
You don’t know WHY they priced it that way. Maybe they got the fabric free and just wanted to get rid of it. Maybe they got a great deal on something and embellished it. Maybe, they are liquidating inventory and won’t be around much longer. You don’t know the back story.
When you underprice your creations because of what someone else is doing, you end up doing hours of work for pennies—and trust me, that gets old quickly. You start to feel like maybe it’s not worth the effort, like maybe this whole creative business thing isn’t for you. But the truth is: it’s not the work that’s the problem. It’s the way it’s being valued.
And the person undervaluing it? Well, that might be you.
Here’s the thing: you’re not selling someone else’s work. You’re selling yours. With your story, your perspective, your values, your skill set—and that is worth more than a generic price tag based on someone else’s shop.
You are not competing with big-box stores. You are not in a pricing war with Amazon or Temu. You are not in the race to the bottom, because guess what? That race? No one wins it. Not even the person who “gets the sale.” There’s virtually NO profit margin.
Your pricing should reflect your materials, your time, and your experience—not someone else’s idea of what bespoke “should” cost. And if you’re not sure how to even begin thinking about that, go back and check out Episode 14. I break down the structure for sustainable creative business thinking, and trust me—it’ll help.
Because here’s the truth: comparison will always whisper “less.” Charge less, do more, be cheaper, stay quiet. But your pricing should say, “I know my worth.” And that starts with not letting someone else’s numbers dictate yours.
Here’s the thing… all of this—the confidence to keep going, the willingness to show up, the courage to price your work like it’s actually worth something—it all gets stronger when you stop looking sideways.
The antidote to comparison isn’t just mindset. It’s structure. It’s creating a rhythm that keeps your eyes on your own paper. And for me, that comes down to the three really specific focus areas we just talked about: confidence, visibility, and pricing. These three work like gears—each one turns the others. When you build a little confidence, you feel braver about being visible. When you show up, the right people start to notice. When the right people notice, they’re more likely to buy at the price you deserve. And that builds more confidence. It's a loop—but you can’t stay in it if you’re always distracted by what someone else is doing.
So here are a few tools I use to stay in my own lane.
First up—the 1:1 rule. Compare yourself to one person only: past you. Not the Pinterest version of some stranger who’s been doing this for 10 years and has a team of photographers and a warehouse full of curated supplies. Just you. A year ago. Six months ago. Last week. Are you learning? Are you getting better? Are you doing your best work with what you have right now? Good. That’s the only comparison that matters.
And remember—every image, every post, every website out there? It’s edited. It’s curated. It’s the highlight reel. You don’t see the sleepless nights or the four failed attempts or the studio that looks like a tornado rolled through. Social media is a stage, not a window. Remember that. Don’t let it distort your view.
Next, curate your input. Be ruthless. Mute, unfollow, block—whatever you need to do to protect your creative energy. You don’t owe anyone your attention. If someone’s posts consistently make you feel less-than, it’s okay to step away. I promise, they’ll be just fine.
Another one: Come back to your why and your who. You don’t need to make something for everyone. There are 8.3 billion people in the world. You don’t want all of them to be your people. You want the ones who light up when they see what you make. The ones who say, “Oh my gosh, that’s exactly what I was looking for.” That’s your lane. You only need a tiny segment of that 8.3 billion.
And this one’s simple but powerful—keep a “Look What I Did” journal. Seriously. Write it down when you finish something you’re proud of. When you try something new. When someone compliments your work. When you price something fairly and it still sells. Write it down. Progress gets real quiet sometimes—this helps you hear it again.
And one more thing—get really clear on your advantage. What’s your edge? What makes your work different? Is it your eye for color? Your commitment to sustainability? Your story? The fact that it’s made by a woman, by hand, in the U.S., with upcycled materials? Whatever it is—OWN that. Your business doesn’t have to be for everyone. It has to be for the people who care about that.
And they’re out there. But they can’t find you if you’re too busy chasing someone else’s version of success.
Here’s the truth I want you to walk away with today:
There’s room for all of us. Someone else’s success isn’t your failure. It’s not proof that you’re behind. It’s not a reflection of your worth. It just means they’re walking their path—and you’re walking yours.
So keep refining what makes your path feel like yours. Keep connecting the dots between what you love, who you serve, and how you want your creativity to show up in the world. If you need a little help with that process, go back and listen to Episode 12—we dig into how to define your niche and why that clarity helps you stop drifting toward everyone else’s version of success.
And this week, I want you to try one small but powerful boundary: set a timer on your social media app. Or mute that one account that always makes you question yourself. You know the one.
Better yet, adopt one of my favorite mantras: Create before you consume. That means you create first—from your own voice, your own imagination, your own lived experience. Before you scroll. Before you check what everyone else is doing. Before you absorb any outside influence that might water down your own vision.
Look, I’m all for browsing and getting inspired… but if scrolling leaves you feeling small or behind or “not good enough,” then stop. You’re in control of your thumbs. Put the phone down.
Because here’s the most important thing to remember: No one—no one—can do what you do the way you do it. The way you see fabric. The way you solve problems. The details you care about. The voice you bring to your work. All of that is yours. And all you need is the tiniest, most loyal little slice of this 8.3 billion person world to build a creative life that’s fulfilling and profitable.
So reclaim your creative confidence.
You’re not behind.
You’re on your own path—and that path is valid, valuable, and uniquely yours.
