The urge to compare ourselves to others has both genetic and evolutionary roots based on survival. Similarly, within a family unit, the tendency to compare yourself to your siblings is based on an evolutionary drive that maximizes your own fitness and secures resources within the family. (You’ll note the hyperlink to an interesting article—I didn’t come up with that on my own!) For loyal blog readers, you’ll know I’ve written (mostly) glowingly about my wonderful older sister. But I’ll be the first to admit I have always competed with her.
My sister has been my sharpest critic, my loudest cheerleader, and, throughout my childhood, one of the biggest motivators for why I strive for excellence in almost everything I do. Although we took completely different paths in academics and affinities, I’ve consciously and subconsciously competed with my sister. In a way, my sister has been my lifelong fantom rival.
It took me until my freshman year of college to realize that I needed to shift the focus of my competition onto myself, rather than project it onto my sister. Which brings me to the life lesson I learned (and still work on as an adult): avoid the temptation to compare your situation to someone else’s. By focusing on the positives you have in your own life—and releasing yourself from unrealistic expectations or burdens—you’ll be more likely to find happiness and contentment. Otherwise, you’re bound to get schooled.
Here’s my story…
Not the biggest fan
For me—and I’m sure gazillions of others—going away to college was one of those big character-building turning points. Having not left home since I was eleven (recall my ill-fated time at sleepaway camp), college represented the biggest leap in my journey towards independence. Perhaps, since I ended up following my sister to Binghamton University, my independence leap was really more of an “independence stretch.”
Although I had a fantastic college experience, in a way, I may have initially set myself up for failure.
My biggest mistake happened before I even set foot in my dorm. It started with trying to replicate my sister’s freshman year roommate experience. My sister’s assigned roommate, D, was an attractive, friendly, and outgoing young woman. D and my sister hit it off instantly. Beyond their friendship, I was impressed by how my sister and her roommate managed to balance the rigors of academia with a strong collegiate social life.
It was only natural that I would want the same thing for myself when I went to Binghamton University three years later. But that wasn’t to be. When I spoke on the phone with J, my assigned freshman roommate, I quickly learned that my sister’s amazing experience would not mirror mine. Our sole early summer phone call was strained. J was shy and not very talkative. The safest topic of discussion was logistics—who would bring what shared items for our dorm room. The biggest takeaways I had from our brief discussion were as follows: 1) don’t bring a fan; and 2) J and I were never going to be friends. Unlike my sister, who clicked right away with her roommate, J and I had little, if anything, in common.
I was bummed out to say the least. And so, on top of being nervous about going off to college, I was already disappointed with my living situation. Little did I know I was about to get schooled on having the wrong mindset.
Seeing red
My ideal roommate was someone who would become my instant best friend. She’d be the kind of friend who could reconnect with me decades later, and we’d pick up right where we’d left off. Sadly, that never happened with me. (It did for my sister.) Looking back, perhaps my expectations were a little too high for a randomly assigned person.
Without the benefit of any social media feeds or Google searches that would provide insight into who my roommate was (this was 1996, after all), I only had my imagination to work with. Using J and my initial awkward conversation as the baseline, I was certain our living situation would be terrible.
With the standard of replicating my sister’s unique experience, I was bound to fail. D, my sister’s roommate, was attractive, in a down-to-earth kind of way. D was the kind of girl who probably had a boyfriend since preschool. Everyone who met D liked her. In the split second when I first laid eyes on J, I knew she was the polar opposite of D.
To briefly summarize: J had long, bright red hair that she wore in a messy ponytail. J was over six feet tall, but lacked the supermodel looks or athletic ability that would put that kind of height to good use. If there was someone who was going to stand out in a crowd, it was J—and not necessarily in a good way.
The best way to describe J was awkward. She wasn’t someone who could glide into a room and chat it up with a stranger. It took me less than thirty seconds to decide that my freshman year living situation was going to be a disaster. Even if J did bring a nice fan from home.
Room and gloom
For the first few weeks of our freshman year, I couldn’t get over my frustration of not having my sister’s roommate experience. It seemed like everyone else’s roommates were better than mine. Even though my sister (and D, ironically) were sympathetic to my situation, I still felt resentful that my sister’s college experience was “better.”
I’m embarrassed to admit, I wasn’t my best self around J. I was standoffish and sulky whenever we were together. While we were each respectful of our shared space, I avoided J as much as possible. Looking back, I was probably taking out my “college transition” frustration on her.
Instead of focusing on J’s positives—which I later identified as being kind and a good listener—I focused on all the things J wasn’t. J wasn’t “cool,” she wasn’t sociable, and she didn’t seek out the typical college social experiences I was. (Yes, I’m talking about fraternity parties.) J was happiest staying in and watching a movie with a bowl of popcorn. That was fine for high school, but this was college!
It wasn’t until after my midterms were over that I realized clinging to an idealized view of my sister’s freshman year was negatively impacting my own experience. I finally could admit I’d been schooled by my own pride.
Break in routine
Perhaps my view of J changed because I’d finally adjusted to college life. Or maybe it was because I knew I’d soon be back in my old bedroom for Thanksgiving break.
On the last night before we all went our separate ways for break, a bunch of the girls on our floor decided to go to a fraternity party. J agreed to come—something she’d never done. We spent the time before the party hanging out and getting ready. For most girls, that meant doing hair and makeup. One thing that J and I had in common (finally!) was that we both had a very limited beauty routine. For me, that meant putting on lipstick and attempting to tame my unruly wavy hair.
One of the girls convinced J to wear her hair down and encouraged her to apply some lipstick. Although it wasn’t a huge transformation for J, it was just enough to shake things up.
At the party, J still clung to the corners of the room. But we were all together. Given J’s height and mane of red hair, she became sort of a beacon for where we’d intermittently reconvene during the party. We made the best of her awkwardness.
Even though J wasn’t the roommate of my dreams, she was still a decent person. I stopped feeling resentful of who J was—and who she wasn’t (i.e., my sister’s “better” roommate). I even grew to appreciate some positives about J. The biggest ones were that J never came home from a party drunk, and she was always in bed at a reasonable hour. Not to mention having the use of her turbo fan.
Flip the script
Once I’d accepted I had been schooled by my ego, my living situation improved.
Things between J and me were markedly different after Thanksgiving break. While we didn’t become best friends, we eventually became…friendly-ish. J enjoyed hearing the stories about my social outings and the interesting people I’d met at parties. I did my best to make the stories colorful—great training for my future aspiration of becoming an author!
For her part, J would give me movie recommendations based on the ones she’d seen with her friends. By the end of the year, our roommate situation sort of, kind of worked.
Not surprisingly, J and I mutually agreed to go our separate ways the following year. I decided to wipe the slate clean and try my hand with a new group of girls. At least I knew what not to do the second time around. I wasn’t going to get schooled twice by my roommate drama. Though I’m sad to say that my sophomore year roommate ended up being worse—she had an annoying boyfriend who often came around.
While I’m sorry it took me three months to learn a life lesson at J’s expense, I am grateful for what she taught me. It isn’t healthy to compare yourself to others—especially when it comes to a sibling’s life experiences.
These days, I’m glad that I can share in the joys and challenges of my sister’s life, as she can do for mine. And I’m pretty sure that, at this point in our middle-aged existence, we are content with the lives we’ve created for ourselves. Because they’re just that—our own lives.
Do you recall any childhood memories that had a strong impact on you later in life? Please share your stories with me in the comments section.
