How Comparing Yourself to Colleagues Quietly Triggers Decision Fatigue

I remember the exact moment something clicked.

It was 4:30 PM on a Tuesday. I'd been sitting at my desk since 8 AM. Nothing unusual about that. But I was staring at an email I'd written a hundred times before. A simple follow-up. Three sentences. Maybe four.

I couldn't send it.

I kept reading it over and over. Tweaking one word. Changing it back. Reading it again. My finger hovered over the send button like it weighed ten pounds.

What was I even doing? I knew this email was fine. It was exactly what it needed to be.

But I couldn't let it go.

So I just sat there. Frozen. Watching the minutes tick by on my screen.

And then I started thinking about my day.

That morning, I'd seen a colleague get praised in our team meeting. Nothing dramatic. Just a casual "great work." But I'd noticed it. Felt it. A tiny pinch of something unpleasant.

Then I'd scrolled through LinkedIn during lunch. Someone I used to work with had announced a promotion. Big title. Big company. Big everything. And I'd felt that same pinch again.

By the time I got to that email, my brain was done. Not tired like I needed sleep. Tired like I had nothing left to give. Every decision felt heavy. Every choice felt wrong.

I started paying attention after that day. I noticed myself checking Slack constantly. Not because I expected anything important. Just to see who was active. Who was working late. Who was getting things done while I was... what? Sitting there, watching other people work?

It was exhausting. And I couldn't figure out why.

The Conversation That Changed My Perspective

So I started talking to people about it. Friends. Colleagues. People I trusted.

One friend told me she'd spent an entire weekend obsessing over a presentation. Not because it was important. Because she was sure her work wouldn't measure up. She rewatched a recording of a team meeting to compare her slides to someone else's. Then she started over completely.

Another friend, someone I genuinely admire, told me she sometimes spends twenty minutes just writing a simple message on Slack. Not because she doesn't know what to say. Because she's worried people will think she sounds stupid.

Twenty minutes. On a message.

Then there's a friend who works in a really competitive environment where performance rankings are public. She's stopped sleeping properly. Not because she's worried about how she's doing. Because she's worried about how everyone else is doing. She spends her nights mentally calculating where she'll end up on the list.

Hearing all this, I started to see a pattern. We were all doing the same thing. Measuring ourselves against people we barely knew. Against standards we never chose. Against a moving target we could never hit.

And it was draining us.

Not the work. The comparison.

There was another colleague I remember from a few years ago. Let's call him Dan. Dan was one of those people who seemed to have it all figured out. He'd come into the office, crack a few jokes, and then produce work that made everyone else's look amateur. Everyone wanted to be on Dan's team. Everyone wanted to impress Dan.

But Dan had a secret. He told me once, over drinks after a long week, that he felt the same way I did. He'd look at other people's work and feel inadequate. He'd lie awake at night wondering if he was good enough. He said, "Everyone thinks I have it together. But I'm just as lost as anyone else. I just got better at hiding it."

That conversation stayed with me. If Dan felt this way, then maybe it wasn't about talent or capability. Maybe it was about something else. Something that affected all of us, regardless of how successful we appeared.

What I Learned About Decision Fatigue

I'd heard about decision fatigue before. The idea that making too many decisions in a day wears your brain out. It makes sense. Every choice uses a little mental energy. By afternoon, you've used most of it up.

But here's what I didn't realise.

Comparison uses the same energy. Every time you evaluate yourself against someone else, you're making a decision. Where do I fit? How do I measure up? Am I ahead or behind? These questions don't feel like decisions. But they are. And they're exhausting.

I started noticing the thoughts that were running through my head without my permission. Should I stay online because my manager is still active? Was my response clear enough? Why did they get praised and I didn't? I spent hours replaying conversations in my head long after the work was done. 

Why does everything look so easy for them? Am I the only one who feels like they're struggling?

They just appeared. I didn't invite them. I didn't want them. And each one took a little something from me. A little energy. A little clarity. A little time.

That's what I couldn't figure out before. Why was I so tired at the end of the day when I hadn't done anything physically demanding? Because I'd spent the whole day comparing. Evaluating. Measuring.

And that's exhausting.

I started tracking these thoughts one week. I just wrote down every time I caught myself comparing. It was eye-opening. Dozens of times a day. Sometimes the same thought would repeat every few minutes. "Was that good enough?" "Did I sound stupid?" "Why did they get praised?" It was like having a constant commentary running in my head, and it was always criticizing me.

By the end of the week, I had three pages of notes. Three pages of thoughts I hadn't even known I was having. Thoughts that were quietly, steadily draining me.

Here's something else I learned about decision fatigue. It doesn't just make you tired. It makes you bad at making decisions. Any decision. Big ones, small ones. You start taking shortcuts. You avoid choices. You pick whatever's easiest. That's why I couldn't send that simple email. It wasn't the email. It was the decision energy I'd already spent.

Where This All Comes From

What makes it worse is that the whole thing is basically involuntary.

I once read something that stuck with me. The author was talking about how our brains developed this system to track where we fit in social groups. It made sense back then. Knowing your place meant knowing who to trust, who to avoid, who had resources you needed. That system never turned off. It's still running. It's just scanning different things now.

And it never stops.

I remember reading that and thinking, "That explains so much." It wasn't a character flaw. It wasn't a weakness. It was biology. An ancient system that hadn't caught up to modern life. That helped. It didn't fix anything. But it helped me understand why I felt the way I did.

The system is constantly scanning, comparing, measuring. It's not something you can just turn off. But understanding it gives you a chance to work with it, instead of being controlled by it.

How I Noticed It Was Affecting Me

The effects were everywhere once I started paying attention.

This constant comparison was secretly triggering my job anxiety, making simple work feel overwhelming.

I used to love team projects. I'd get excited about working with smart people. I'd bring ideas. Build on other people's ideas. It was energising.

But somewhere along the way, that changed. I found myself avoiding group work. I'd volunteer for projects no one else wanted so I didn't have to share a team with anyone. I told myself I worked better alone. But that wasn't true. I worked better alone because alone I couldn't compare myself to anyone. It was safer. But it was also worse.

I noticed how much I was second-guessing myself. Every message. Every decision. Every word. I'd write something, read it, rewrite it. Then I'd ask myself, "Is this good enough? Does this sound like I know what I'm doing?" I was spending so much energy on doubt that I had almost none left for the work itself.

Then there was the numbness. That was the scariest part. I'd finish a project and feel nothing. I'd get positive feedback and feel nothing. I'd complete a big task that used to make me proud, and there was just... nothing. Like I was watching myself from far away. Like my emotions had been turned down.

That was probably the moment I knew I needed to change something. Because what's the point of doing all this if you can't even feel anything when you succeed?

There was a meeting that really brought all this home for me. I was sitting in a room with people who were, objectively, more experienced than me. More qualifications. More impressive resumes. I'd spent the first half of the meeting completely silent, comparing myself to everyone in the room. Faster. Smarter. More confident.

Then someone looked at me and said, "You've been quiet. What do you think?"

I had nothing prepared. I'd been so busy comparing myself that I hadn't actually been thinking about the work. But something came out anyway. I just spoke. And it was good. People nodded. People built on it. Someone said, "That's a great point. I hadn't thought of that."

Walking back to my desk, I felt weird. I hadn't been confident. But I'd said something useful. And everyone had been fine with it. That moment didn't fix everything. But it showed me that my comparisons were a story I was telling myself. A story that wasn't true.

A Question That Made Me Think Differently

One thing that helped was a question someone asked me.

I was talking to a friend about all this. She's not a therapist or a neuroscientist. Just someone who asks good questions. She said, "Who are you really comparing yourself to?"

I thought about it. And I realised, I wasn't comparing myself to real people. I was comparing myself to versions of people I'd created in my head. Perfect versions. Versions that didn't actually exist. The colleague who never makes mistakes. The friend who always says the right thing. The person on LinkedIn who seems to have everything figured out.

None of them were real. But I was measuring myself against them anyway. I was comparing my behind-the-scenes to everyone else's highlights. And I was losing.

Deep down, my non-stop preparation was just fear of failure in disguise.

That question stuck with me. Every time I caught myself comparing, I'd ask it again. "Who am I really comparing myself to?" Usually, it was a fiction. A character I'd invented. Once I saw that, it was easier to let go.

Small Changes That Made A Difference

That conversation was a turning point.

I started making small changes. Not big dramatic ones. Just little things that slowly added up.

The first thing I did was take a break from LinkedIn. I was worried I'd miss something important. I didn't miss anything. None of it actually affected my work. It was just noise.

I also started asking myself a different question. What does success look like for me? Not for my coworker. Not for my manager. For me. What would it feel like to have a good day? What would I need to achieve to feel proud of my work? Then I measured myself against that. It was slower. Less exciting. But it felt better.

Letting go of approval-seeking was probably the hardest change. I used to want validation from everyone. My manager. My colleagues. People I didn't even know. Now I just ask myself one question: did I do my best? If the answer is yes, I let it go. If the answer is no, I ask myself why and try again.

I also started noticing comparison thoughts without following them. I can't control when they appear. But I can control whether I engage with them. When a comparison thought pops up now, I notice it. I think, "That's just the comparison loop. I don't have to follow it." And then I don't.

Creating space helped too. I used to be glued to my phone. Every notification, every ping, I'd check it. I turned all that off. Notifications are gone. I check things when I want to, not when they want me to. It feels strange at first. But now I can't imagine going back.

I started doing something else too. When I caught myself comparing, I'd make myself look at a colleague's whole story. Not just their success. Their struggle too. Because everyone has struggle. Everyone has the late nights, the doubt, the failure. We just don't see it. I'd remind myself of Dan. If he felt inadequate, then everyone probably does.

What I Wish Someone Had Told Me Years Ago

Here's what I wish someone had told me years ago.

The exhaustion I was feeling wasn't just from work. It was from the invisible tracking I never even knew I was doing. The constant comparison that was quietly draining me every single day.

I thought I was the only one. I thought I was just weak. Just not good enough. Just not cut out for this. But that wasn't true. It was never true.

If any of this feels familiar, you're not alone. This isn't something wrong with you. It's how our brains work. But it doesn't have to stay that way.

Some Questions People Ask

Is comparison ever useful?

I think it can be. When I see someone do something impressive and think, "What can I learn from that?" it helps me grow. When I think, "They're better than me and I'm falling behind," it just makes me tired. I've done both. I know which one feels better.

How do I know if it's decision fatigue or just tiredness?

Physical tiredness is about my body. I want to sleep. My eyes are heavy. Decision fatigue is about my brain. I freeze on simple choices. I avoid decisions. If I'm sitting at 4 PM staring at a simple email and I can't send it, that's decision fatigue.

What if my company ranks employees publicly?

I won't pretend that's easy. Those systems are designed to make you compare. But I've learned to protect myself. I don't check the metrics as often. I focus on my own benchmarks. And I remind myself that these numbers don't capture my real value.

Is this really that common?

I thought it was just me. Then I started talking about it. Consultants. Managers. Freelancers. People who are successful and capable. All of them said the same thing. It's really common. We just don't talk about it.

If any of this resonated with you, I'd love to hear about it.

And if you want more, I write a newsletter every week about decision fatigue, overthinking, and building sustainable work habits. No fluff. Just honest stuff.

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