When I was a sophomore in high school and my brother was a senior, he applied to colleges as a pre-med student. My father works in the medical field, so he was elated that his son had chosen a similar path. As a former nurse, my mother was also proud of him. My parents expected the best out of my brother and me; they wanted us to achieve our highest goals, preferably in medicine. My parents praised my brother for his determination to be pre-med, while the sciences simply did not interest me.
Seeing the approval my brother gained from my parents, I couldn’t fathom how I would tell them that I did not want to be pre-med. I felt that my parents were evaluating me on the same scale as my brother in terms of determination to be a doctor, and that my parents valued his achievements and goals over mine. I felt neglected and inferior to my brother. I thought that I could only accept myself if my parents supported me 100 percent. I tried to find interest in the sciences by interning at the hospital, but ever since I was a child, I’ve disliked science.
When I told my parents that I was not interested in the sciences and wanted to pursue writing, they seemed disappointed that I gravitated towards the humanities instead. They wanted me to pursue something like medicine that would give me a more stable future career; they argued that being a successful writer is extremely difficult and depends on luck. But my goal was to improve my writing skills -- not become a doctor. I didn’t want to do something that I was apathetic about.
Although my parents seemed to appreciate my aspirations less than my brother’s goals, I did not let it stop me from developing and improving my writing skills. I began keeping multiple journals, documenting my thoughts, and recording possible story ideas. I wrote for myself.
Eventually my brother went to college. As their only child in the house, my parents became increasingly interested in my life. They began to notice how focused I was on writing and storytelling. I began writing poetry, short stories and articles -- really anything that provoked my thoughts. My parents noticed my commitment and read my work. They began to understand my interest in writing and fully supported me.
I’ve realized that as I was growing up, I tried to live up to my older brother's example. I used to believe that my parents would only appreciate me if I excelled in science -- something I had tried but lacked the passion for. By exploring my love of writing and improving my editorial skills, I was able to gain my parents’ respect and appreciation by excelling in something that I am passionate about.
The most important lesson I’ve learned from this experience is that, in order to be accepted by others, you must first accept yourself. I developed confidence through writing because it is my passion. By developing confidence in myself and improving my skills, I gained my parents’ acceptance; I didn’t try to be someone I was not. Writing taught me to be true to myself and not let any social preconceptions get in the way of that.
