One of the deepest realisations I have had in my early adult life is that my brother is nothing like me, and this realisation has percolated down to my outlook on friends, acquaintances, and even my parents.
You see, when I was younger, there was a time when I didn’t really do as well at school as I think I should have. I would by no means fail multiple subjects, but I certainly wasn’t the top of my class either. I was quite average. But sometime in high school, I realised that I liked studying. I enjoyed the process of sitting down for hours with my books, reading, and penning down answers. I wasn’t really into the subjects I was learning, so again, didn’t do as well in school as I should have, but I performed when it mattered. My grades for my board exams, both in the 10th and 12th grades were good, but I didn’t really care for many of the subjects I followed. I really came into my own during college. I enjoyed the things I was doing (but not enough, I think). I did well, grade-wise and made myself worthy of the master I wanted to pursue. And now that I’m nearly at the end of my master, I feel the same. I do well, but not enough. But maybe that’s my imposter syndrome, because I have been privileged enough to have so many opportunities given to me because of my performance (not just gradewise, but in general).
But I’m digressing. Back to what I really wanted to write about. My brother is nothing like me when it comes to these things. He was never as attached to his books as I was, although he has been working incredibly hard lately and seems to be moving in that direction. He was never a high-performer, sometimes even when it mattered. And as I grow older, despite what my father thinks, I think it’s okay for him not to be. I think it’s OKAY for him to perform the way he does as long as he consistently puts the work in and believes in himself. I am okay with whatever path he chooses for himself as long as it’s what he wants. I used to be afraid that he thought he was living in my shadow. I’ve compared him to myself in the past. I would wonder why he wasn’t like me the same way I would wonder why my friends didn’t value the same things I did. But as I grow older, and as I come to love him more for who he is, not who I wish he was, I realise that he’s perfect just the way he is. He’s so different than me when it comes to the pursuit of knowledge. This is not to say that he doesn’t value it, but I think we may see it a little differently, I’m not sure.
He’s so incredible. And for so long, I was so afraid that he would live under my shadow. That he would always compare himself to me, and the things I have done so far. I think he does, because, as different as we are, I see parts of myself in him. But I want him to know that regardless of his grades, regardless of his achievements at the age of 18, he is absolutely perfect. I feel so deeply protective of him. And I am so afraid that he will stop believing in himself and give up. I don’t want him to do that because he hasn’t found his path yet. I think my father pressurises him about it, but I hadn’t found my path until I was 21, I think. And my little brother is so young. He’s 18, all the experience he has is all the experience he’s been guided to have either through school or family. I want him to explore things, I want him to know things beyond what he has been shown so far. I want him to know, with all my heart, that I don’t give a single fuck about his grades. I want him to do well, of course. But not at the expense of him losing parts of himself. I want him to work hard because he wants to, because he finds fulfillment in the things he pursues, not because he feels the pressure to perform. I don’t know what he wants, because I’m not sure that he fully knows what he wants yet. And unlike my father, I think that is absolutely okay.
I don’t mean to villianise my father. But I’ve been through the pressure my brother is going through right now. I know what those expectations are like and how much I was pushed. And he’s probably going through something similar right now, and I’m an ocean away, unable to be there to support him like I want to. He’s so precious. And nothing matters to me more than him. He’s it.
This was a bit of a ramble, but I just wanted to word-vomit onto the page, because I’ve been really in my head about this.
Memoirs of a Muse 