Two and a Half Years

Prompt: What’s your role in your family?

Much can happen within the span of two and a half years. From seventh to ninth grade, a global pandemic and a personal deep dive into the world of Brawl Stars. From ninth to eleventh grade, a shift in focus from math competitions to pure mathematics. 

But the most important two and a half years in my life aren’t related to any specific time period. These two and a half years remain constant no matter how much time has passed–the age difference between myself and my older brother, Andy.

In my early childhood, this two-and-a-half year gap translated into an unquenched competitive drive, as my brother had a head start of both wisdom and experience. I was far behind in science, reading, and math, but I discovered other metrics that were more favorable to me. I wanted to establish myself beyond the title of Andy’s younger brother, so I took on chess, soccer, and swimming. My skills improved rapidly with these competitive goals in mind.

However, it was much, much later that I realized that I was deeply involved in these activities for the purpose of being different, rather than finding activities I was truly interested in. Being better than my brother had no correlation to my enjoyment and success, and even though I could out-dribble my brother on the pitch nine times out of ten, my lack of agility and size became a liability as an offensive player. The soccer world was much larger and far less forgiving than the sibling world of myself and my brother. Soccer was not the right fit for me.

When I was 13, and when my brother left home to attend a STEM boarding school, he left the second floor of my house with an uncomfortable emptiness. His bedroom, once full of books, clutter, and his laughter, became vacant for most months of the year. My identity had been so closely tied to this sibling dynamic that I found myself grappling with a silence I didn’t know how to fill. As the distance between myself and my brother became apparent in both age and miles, I turned my perspective inwards to understand my own identity.

I gradually learned to distance myself from the activities I stopped enjoying. Soccer turned into Brawl Ball, and when I uninstalled Brawl Stars, distance running. I left my local youth orchestra, but discovered joy in photography. Six days a week of competitive swimming became Sunday afternoons of swim coaching. When my brother was away, I took responsibility for my decisions and gained a sense of independence of who I was and what I valued.

Although my pseudo-rivalry with my older brother offered a clear goal and sense of security, it also hindered me from searching for a deeper understanding of my own values and aspirations. Because, in my childhood, I’d tied a substantial portion of my worth to a comparison with my brother. I’ve come to realize that this viewpoint was both myopic and unsustainable in high school, as my brother is not myself, and I am not my brother.

Now that my brother’s in college and only home for a rare month or two throughout the year, I’ve gained a new appreciation for what it means to be a younger brother, and what it means to have an older brother to look up to, as a source of wisdom rather than competition. As I’ve grown older and experienced high school, I’ve found people and experiences that created that older-brother wisdom for myself. I’ve irreversibly changed.

I’ve changed from the hyper-competitive younger brother I once was into a more grateful, intentional, and responsible part of my household. By grappling with and understanding the two-and-a-half year age gap that has shaped my life, I have learned to incorporate older-child traits into my younger-child self, and the distinctions will continue to blur as I move into adulthood.