One enters, the other leaves: A column for my little sister

I’m not sure if I’m qualified to be an advice columnist.

I’m a 22-year-old (soon to be 23-year-old) college grad from a state school with a non-STEM degree. I don’t currently have a job (although I’m hunting).

I’m not a millionaire or a prodigy or a future president. I’m just a writer with a pop culture addiction and a lot of opinions.

I’m also a big sister. Not always a great one, but Fritz #2, as my mom calls her, means the world to me. She is my favorite (and only) sister, after all.

I already wrote one farewell column before I knew I’d be continuing to write this summer, so I’ll spare you the repetition of all the cheesy but heartfelt lessons I’ve learned during my four years here.

As this is my real farewell column, and I can think of nothing I should write about more than my little sister, and all the things I wish for her.

Why? Because she’ll be entering IU as I leave.

Four years behind me, this is a cycle we’ve seen before; first in high school, and now in college.

She’s a smart girl — a direct admit to Kelley School of Business — with a good head on her shoulders and a good heart, but as a big sis, I can’t help but worry about her.

Will she be safe?

Will she be happy?

And, perhaps most importantly, will she feel able to stay true to who she is, and what she believes in?

I already know our college experiences will be vastly different. Even the essentials of freshman year are different: she’s living in a different dorm than I did, with a childhood friend as a roommate, rather than an (admittedly amazing) unknown person.

She already knows her major and the direction her education will take. I didn’t. She’s always been more social than me — she’s an extrovert and I’m an introvert — so being around people at all times won’t be too difficult. 

I’m certain she’ll make hordes of new friends, and get even closer to her old ones. If she chooses to go greek, she’ll love it and thrive within her chosen sorority. She’ll likely get involved in some charitable organization on campus and continue the pattern of volunteerism and leadership she began in high school.

I’m not worried about any of these things, because I see the remarkable woman my baby sister has become.

All of this is easy to say, however, before you get to college.

Because college changes you, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse.

Often the change is a mix of the two, wrought by four more years of more realistic life experience.

This is when you really start to realize that your choices define who you are. Not your friends or your clothes or your taste in music — your actions, your daily decisions.

Lots of us (myself included) miss this seemingly obvious point for the first year or two (or three or four or five). It’s right there in front of us, but it’s terrifying. It means that we really have to stop and think about what we believe and how we want to define ourselves, that there’s no one telling us what to do or who to be if we don’t let them.

Forcing myself (or perhaps being forced by my environment) to think about these essential things has been one of the most gratifying experiences in college, and one of the hardest.

I found that one of my essentials meant practicing what I preach. I can write columns all day long. But until I stop being afraid and apply these beliefs to real-life situations, and try to change and educate the world around me (even if people don’t want to hear it), my written words are immaterial.

For you, little sister, figuring out your essentials might be — and will probably be — completely different. And that’s OK! As long as you believe in something, whether it’s religious or moral or social or any number of things.

It doesn’t have to be some grand cause, and you don’t have to go to church every Sunday or picket every Wal-Mart or crusade for every charity to live what you believe in. And if you do choose to do any of those things, don’t let anyone shame you for having passion about something.

Put simply, you just have to look hard at your daily life, and examine what you’re doing and why.

Until you do, you’re just senselessly going through the motions.

Hell, that’s just growing up, college or not. I’ve got a four year jump on you, so trust me on this one.

You are burning with passion for the people around you and potential for great success. You will undoubtedly do well.
 
But you will also have a few long, lonely days, when you’re walking to class but feel directionless, sitting in a full lecture hall but feeling alone. Those days are normal — every person here has them. Even taking the time to figure yourself out can’t eliminate them completely. They’re just another thing that comes with growing up.

Don’t feel like you have to put on a smile all the time or have a perfect body or a perfect GPA. You’ll run yourself into the ground chasing after a million standards that, when lumped together, are unachievable.

You don’t have to be the best at everything, and not everyone is always going to love you. And that’s also OK! Failing at things really does make you stronger. You learn to bounce back more quickly, and by the time you’re a senior, the stupid little things that hurt you freshman year don’t really sting anymore.

Freshman year can be rough sometimes, but it can also be amazingly, exhilaratingly fun.

Try new things.

Meet new people (but avoid jerks and meanies).

Go to class, even if it’s sleeting, even if you're tired, even if you didn't finish the reading (I learned that the hard way).

But take a day off every once in a while, too, for your sanity.

Don’t come home every weekend.

Don’t try to go to the bars — you’ll have all of junior and senior year for that.

Walk miles for a terrible house party and laugh about it the next day.

Take a midnight run around campus.

Jump in Showalter Fountain.

Mess with a squirrel.

Get lost in the Bloomington bus system.

Befriend a person completely different than you.

Convince someone to drive you to Brown County when you’re feeling down.

Do handstands in the hallways of your dorm, snuggle with all your friends in your bunk bed, eat tons of terrible C-Store food and find platonic and romantic relationships that make you feel loved.

Little sister, I love you. Your entire family adores you. You have great friends. You’re beautiful and smart and kind.

I might not know where I’ll physically be in a month or six (hopefully employed), but on those hard days, little one, I’m just a phone call away.

I might give you some typical big sis crap at first, but I’ll be happy to remind you of all of the wonderful things about yourself, and how bright your future is, and how lucky you are to have four years in this sleepy little midwestern town.

­— kelfritz@indiana.edu