Upside Down

In this heartfelt episode, Alyssa gets real about something every mom wrestles with — comparison. Whether it’s scrolling through highlight reels, watching other families seem effortlessly put together, or wondering if you’re doing enough, this conversation will remind you that your story isn’t supposed to look like theirs.

With humor, honesty, and a lot of grace, Alyssa shares how motherhood taught her that “different” doesn’t mean “less,” and that the only standard that matters is the one God set for you — not the one the world expects.

Pull up a chair (and a glass of tea) for a cozy, truth-filled chat about contentment, calling, and finding beauty right where you are.

Creators and Guests

Host
Alyssa Burks
Founder of The Upside Down Podcast & Author of Ethan and the Upside Down Sandwich

What is Upside Down?

Welcome to The Upside Down Podcast — a feel-good show about creativity, kindness, and seeing the world a little differently. Inspired by Alyssa’s debut children’s book, Ethan & the Upside Down Sandwich, each episode dives into stories that celebrate individuality, imagination, and the courage to be yourself.

Join Alyssa — photographer, author, mom, and community theater heart — as she chats with artists, teachers, and everyday dreamers about how they turn their “upside-down” moments into something beautiful. Through laughter, storytelling, and heartfelt conversation, this podcast reminds us that the best ingredient in life (and sandwiches) is kindness. 💛

Whether you’re a parent, creative, educator, or just someone who believes in the power of being uniquely you — pull up a chair and stay awhile. You’re in for something special.

Alyssa:

Gratitude and comparison can't live in

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the same space. One always pushes the other out.

Alyssa:

Hey, friends. I'm Alyssa Burks, and this is the Upside Down podcast where we laugh through the chaos and learn through the differences. I am a mom, a former teacher, and a children's author. Here, we talk about all of the beautifully messy parts of life, parenting, teaching, special needs, creativity, and everything in between. So whether you're listening from your car, your classroom, or the laundry pile that never ends, I am so glad that you're here.

Alyssa:

Hey, y'all. It's Alyssa, and you're listening to the Upside Down podcast. Today, we're diving into something that hits every single one of us, whether we admit it out loud or not. The comparison trap. You know exactly what I

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mean, don't you? That little voice that whispers,

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she's doing it better. She's more patient. Her house looks clean and smells like lemon pudge while yours smells like whatever that mystery odor is in your car.

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Yeah. That one. And listen. I wish I could tell

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you that I've outgrown it, that I've learned to scroll through Instagram without feeling that little sting in my chest, but I haven't because I'm human. And motherhood has this funny way of making you feel like you should be everything all the time for everyone while looking like you slept more than four

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hours. Spoiler alert, you can't.

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I remember one morning, not too long ago, actually, I was sitting at the kitchen table, hair and a messy bun that had lost the will to live, cold breakfast sitting in front of me because I had been up since 05:30 getting everyone ready. Clay was singing twinkle twinkle little stars at the top of his lungs, and I,

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being the emotionally mature adult that I am, got on my phone and started scrolling. And there she was, one of those moms. You know

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the one. Perfect hair, homemade muffins, matching outfits. She was probably drinking some beautiful latte art coffee, which if you know me, you know that I don't even really drink coffee. But for some reason, I was mad that her coffee looked better than my unsweet tea. That's how sneaky comparison is.

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It convinces you to feel bad about things that don't even matter to you. So I sat there for a minute in that weird space between admiration and self doubt, and I thought, how do we even get here? Because I wasn't jealous of her. Not really. I was jealous of what

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I thought she had. Peace. Like, wow, she looks so calm. I bet her mornings are peaceful. And then

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I laughed because you know what? I bet she was wrangling her kids two seconds before that picture saying, just smile for one second, please. We're

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all out here doing the same thing. We just see each other's highlight reels. That's the thing about comparison. It's never fair. You're comparing your behind

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the scenes to someone else's final edit, and that's exhausting. But it doesn't just steal joy. It steals presence. I've lost count of how many times I've been sitting right in the middle of something good, something like my kids giggling or a sunny day or just a sweet moment where they tell a silly story or a funny joke, my mind goes, you should be more productive right now, or organized, or successful. And just like that, I'm gone.

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Not physically, but mentally. I've left that moment. And I hate that. Because I don't wanna look back one day and realize that

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I was too busy measuring my life to actually live it. Here's the truth I keep coming back to. The second I start comparing, I lose sight of what God specifically gave me. He didn't make me to be

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the Pinterest mom or the minimalist mom or the every moment captured mom. He made me to be the slightly chaotic, overthinking, passionate, laughs at her own mess kind of mom, and honestly, I

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think that's my superpower. But it's taken me years to get comfortable in that. I used to think that I had to change to be enough. Now I

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think I know I just have to be. I think comparison shows up strongest when we're tired. You ever noticed that when you're running on fumes and suddenly every mom on your feed looks like she's thriving while you're just surviving, but then you talk to one of them and she's like, oh girl, I'm losing it too. My kid just ate a crayon. And you're like, oh thank goodness.

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I'm not alone. That's what community does. It snaps you out of the illusion. I remind you that none of us have it together all of the time. There was a day not long ago that I had one of those humbling reality checks.

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Was in the middle of cleaning, which is code for trying to make it look like nobody lives here. And I found myself thinking about another mom that I follow online. She had posted this gorgeous photo of her living room. It was clean and cozy and perfectly decorated, very aesthetic. You know, the ones like where they go on Amazon, they buy everything in the same colors and they have those books that don't really have any words in them.

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They're like fake books. It was like one of those, one of those living rooms. And I looked around my house, which looked more like an episode of Survivor Toddler Edition. I felt that little voice whisper that you'll never have it like that. But then, and I kid you not, Clay walked up with a banana, peeled halfway, and handed it to me proudly and said, I did it by myself.

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And that moment was it. That was

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my reality check. Because while I was over there wishing for someone else's life, mine was happening right in

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front of me. Sticky fingers, half pilled bananas, and all. Here's something I've realized. Comparison only thrives when gratitude is missing. And when I'm grateful, I don't have room for envy.

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When I start listing what's good, not what's perfect,

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just what's good, I start seeing how much

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I already have. It's like flipping the lights on in a dark room. Suddenly, you realize, oh, my life's actually pretty beautiful. It's just loud. And let's

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be honest. I mean, motherhood is a series of loud, messy, slightly ridiculous moments stitched together with love and caffeine alternatives. It's not supposed to be staged or spotless. It's supposed to be real. That's what our kids will remember anyway, the real stuff.

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Not how cute their lunches looked, but how we laughed when the peanut butter hit the floor. Not how perfect our house was, but how it felt to be home in it. I think sometimes we believe peace will come when we get it all together. But what if peace is actually found in admitting that really no one has

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it all together? What if we stopped trying to be impressive and started trying to be present? That is

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what I've been learning. And let me tell you, I am a slow learner, but I

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think that's okay because growth doesn't always look glamorous. Sometimes it looks like crying on

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the bathroom floor, wiping your mascara, and saying, alright, God, I get it. I can't

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do this without you. And he's like, finally, I've been trying to tell you that.

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The other day, I was talking to a friend, and she's one of those people who always seems calm and put together. And she said, I feel like I'm failing at everything. And I laughed because I had just said that exact sentence to my husband Jared two days before. And then it hit me, right then it hit me. Even the people that we compare ourselves to, they're comparing themselves to someone else.

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It's this endless, miserable cycle, and we all deserve to get off that ride. So here's my challenge. And yes, I am talking to myself here too. What if we stopped measuring our worth by someone else's version of success? What if we decided that enough is what we already are?

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Because I don't know about you, but I'm tired of chasing an illusion. I'd rather live a life that's messy and honest and full of laughter than one that's perfect and hollow. All right. So we've talked about the scroll, the pressure, the perfection trap, but I want to talk about something deeper now. Let's talk about the moments when comparison doesn't just make you feel less than, but it makes you doubt your calling.

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You know the ones, those maybe I'm not doing what I'm supposed to be doing moments. Because comparison doesn't always show up in cute little she's skinnier than me ways. Sometimes it whispers she's making more impact. Sometimes it whispers she's more talented. She's doing more for God.

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She's more. And if you're not careful, that voice will have you trying copy someone else's assignment instead of being faithful with your own. I had this feeling a few months ago when I was in the middle of preparing for something big, something I had prayed for and dreamed about. And instead of celebrating, I found myself looking at someone else doing something similar, and I thought, she's doing it better. Can you even believe that?

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God answers a prayer, and my first instinct is to compare it. But that's what happens when we forget that success looks different for everyone. We start grading our lives on someone else's rubric. And y'all, I was never really that great at time tests anyway. The truth is God doesn't use a copy and paste button.

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He handwrites every single story. And yours, mine, it's not supposed to look like anybody else's. But that's hard to remember when everyone else's story is posted and filtered and hashtagged and updated every hour. I think sometimes he lets us

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feel that tension on purpose so we'll remember who we're doing it for. You ever notice that comparison never makes you better, just busier?

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You start, you know, you start trying to do more instead of just doing what actually matters, and you overthink, you overspend, you overcommit, and then you're sitting in

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the car line thinking, why did I sign up for this again? I have been there so many times. One time I said yes to something just because another mom said yes. And I didn't want to

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look lazy, so I volunteered for this really big project on top of everything else that I already had going on. And halfway through, I thought, wait a second, I don't even like doing this. I was miserable and tired and cranky and over it. All because I compared her yes to my enough. And that's the thing about motherhood.

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It's easy to think that somebody else's rhythm is the right one. But every family, every season, every mom has her own

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tempo. I used to think that being a good mom meant being like other moms. But now I know that it means being present with my kids the way that

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I was made to be. Zeke doesn't need me to be Pinterest perfect. He needs me to be his mom. Clay doesn't need every moment scheduled. He needs me to stop and laugh when

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he paints joy in my life. And Jared doesn't need me to be a superwoman. He just needed me

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to still have enough energy left to watch a show with him after bedtime. That's enough. There was this night not long ago when I was folding clothes and by folding, mean moving it from the dryer to the couch, to the bed, and then back again. And I just stopped for a second and I looked around and there were toys everywhere. The boys were giggling.

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The dog was barking at absolutely nothing. And I just thought this is what my life looks like. Not the polished version, not the highlight reel, just this. And I stopped for a minute and I smiled because it's ours. You know, I think about my younger self a lot, that that college aged Alyssa who thought she'd had it all together by now.

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She would probably laugh if she saw me some days, but she'd also be really proud, I think, because back then she prayed for a life full of love, creativity, and meaning, and that's exactly what she got. It just came wrapped in cereal and mismatched socks. It's wild how God answers prayers in the most practical, messy, really down to earth ways. We pray for patience and He gives us toddlers. We pray for faith and He gives us uncertainty.

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We pray for joy and He gives us chaos of laughter tucked inside it. I'm learning that if

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I can see his goodness in the middle of it, I can find peace anywhere. But I still slip up. There are still moments when I scroll until that tug again that you're not doing enough whisper. And when it comes, I just try

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to do something simple. I stop. I breathe. And I

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say thank you. Not not thank you that everything's perfect, but thank you that I

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get to live this life right here, right now. Because

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gratitude and comparison can't live in the same space. One always pushes the other out. And honestly, comparison gets boring when you start loving your own story. When you start paying attention to the good stuff, the tiny stuff, like the only your family would do that kind of stuff, that's where the joy lives. For me, it's Clay insisting that he needs more ketchup when he already has a ton of ketchup on his plate, but he loves ketchup that much that when I pour some more on his plate, he just giggles and smiles because it's really, it brings him that much joy.

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It's it's Zeke asking if we can have breakfast for dinner again. It's Jared telling me the same awful, corny joke from the hundredth time just to

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make us laugh. That's the stuff I'd never trade. Not for a perfect life, not for spotless floors, not for approval from anyone else. If I could bottle up one truth for every mom listening right now, it would be this. You are not behind.

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You are not less than. You are not missing it. You are living it. You are smack in the middle of the life that you were made for, even if it's loud and cluttered and slightly sticky. And guess what?

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It's beautiful anyway.

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I think that's why I love motherhood so much even on the hard days. It constantly reminds me that worth isn't earned. It's given. Your kids don't love you because you're perfect. They love you because you show up.

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Messy bun, leggings, tee in hand, doing your best. They don't see the comparison you carry. They see the love you give, and that's what they'll remember. I think about my boys someday being grown up, you know, maybe sitting around a table talking about their childhood, and I just hope they'll say stuff like mom was fun. Mom was kind.

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Mom made our house still like home. They're not gonna say mom always had

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it together. They're gonna say mom loved us big. And that's enough for me.

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So if you're listening to this right now in the middle of your own comparison trap, I want you to take a deep breath with me.

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Inhale grace. Exhale guilt. You are enough. You are loved. And you are doing holy work even if it doesn't look impressive to anyone else.

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And if

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you ever forget that, just remember, there's a mom out there looking at you thinking, how does she do it all? And you're probably sitting there surrounded by clothes and laundry and half eaten snacks thinking, me? Girl, I'm barely surviving. See, we're all out here admiring each other's chaos. So tonight when the house gets quiet or, let's be honest, quiet ish, and you finally sit down with your glass of tea, I will tell you, I want you to tell yourself, this

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is enough. I am enough. And this season, even with all its noise, is sacred. Because

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it is. Alright. I think that's all I got before I start crying about this. So thank you guys for hanging out with me today. If this spoke to you, please share it with a mom who needs that reminder too.

Alyssa:

The one who's doing amazing things and just doesn't know it yet. I will see you next time on the Upside Down podcast. Until then, laugh often, love big, drink your coffee, your tea, whatever. And remember, comparison might be loud, but gratitude is way louder. Thanks for joining me today on the Upside Down podcast.

Alyssa:

I hope this conversation encouraged you to laugh a little more through the chaos and to see the beauty in our differences. If you loved what you heard, please hit subscribe, share this episode with a friend, and leave a review. It helps more families and teachers and people in general find us. Until next time, I am Alyssa Burks. And remember, the upside down moments are often where the magic happens.