When I was thirteen, my brother took me aside to impart his wisdom on achieving success. I do not remember the details of the conversation, but the idea was that I should put more effort into blending in by hanging out with the right people, dressing like the right people, and discard the kooky idiosyncrasies that made me the person I am, which was likely an embarrassment to him. Perhaps he thought I did these things as a cry for attention.
In his limited sphere of understanding, I believe his heart was in the right place. He wanted to spare me (and himself) the embarrassment of not belonging. While charismatic and savvy in the art of belonging, he rather clueless as to the person I was both then and now.
I can’t dispute that aspects of life, especially social ones, would have been easier had I taken his advice. If only I could have passed as normal, sociable, charismatic and popular it might have made relationships easier. But if I had caved to the social pressure, I probably would have hated myself more for struggling to be so disingenuous than I already hated myself for not belonging.
I don’t hold any resentment for his intervention, and I would be surprised if he remembers the conversation. He did not know much about me, but I learned much about him.








