The Big Brother Nobody Taught Me How to Be

A raw reflection on brotherhood, individuality, and trying to re-find your light when you're lost in the dark.

Nobody teaches you how to be a big brother. You just… are one. And honestly, sometimes, that shit’s kinda hard.

Especially when you’re the first kid—the parental trial subject.

Your parents are figuring it out in real time, just like you are. And suddenly you're expected to lead someone else without ever having had someone lead you. And when you’re wired the way I am—craving individuality, carving your own path, figuring yourself out, and constantly trying to understand the “why” behind everything—that can be… a lot.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.

I’m not friends with my brother. Not in a bad way. It’s not hate or anything like that—we’re just polar opposites. Different personalities, different interests, different lives. The only thing we really have in common is blood. And that’s totally fine.

I’d still do literally anything for him. He could call me right now and I’d be there. (I might miss the call at first because if my phone ever makes noise without my permission, it’s getting shot—but like, I’ll call you back as soon as I see it.) And I am damn well the only one that can talk shit or call him a bitch. I'm the only one allowed to play the mean game.

But we don’t relate on… basically anything.

Meanwhile, all my cousins on my mom’s side are best friends. The three boys are like clones—athletes, doctors and business guys, cookie-cutter white collar. And the three girls are all artsy fartsy, creative, I-see-dead-people, pretty plain-Jane blue collar. And sometimes I look at all that and recognize a type of connection and upbringing I’m not entirely used to relating with.

I’ve always felt like I’m right in the middle. Of everything.

I grew up right in the middle of it all—between rich and poor, white and blue collar, creativity and logic, arts and science, freedom and structure. My whole life feels like a constant state of duality. Like I’m half of everything and whole of nothing. And I don’t say that as a bad thing—just a weird realization that hit me the other night like a software update straight to the brain right from the universe itself.

And reflecting back, I think my dad was a major component in a lot of this duality stuff.

He 100000% parented my brother and me differently. But in the best kind of way. He treated my brother and I like actual individuals, not carbon copy kids raised by the same playbook.

My dad grew up without a dad. And then spent every single day of my life doing everything in his power to make sure I never knew what that felt like. And if you ask me (in my UNhumble ass opinion)—he did a really fucking great job.

He wasn’t perfect. Nobody is. But overall? My dad gave us freedom. He let us be who we were. And he gave us love the way we needed to be loved. And that’s some high-level parenting right there.

But although we were parented individually… I wasn’t necessarily the best big brother.

Not because I didn’t care. Not because I wasn’t there. But because I was so focused on being me—on becoming myself—that I didn’t know how to be anything for someone else yet.

Let me explain a bit.

My #3 CliftonStrength is Individualization. I see people. I notice what makes someone unique. I spot those little quirks and traits and tailor my approach based on that. But as a kid? I didn’t know how to express any of that. I hadn’t yet understood my empathy enough to fully step out of my own shoes.

So when my brother would copy me—like younger siblings do—I didn’t see it as flattery. I saw it as disrespect. But not toward me—toward himself. I didn’t fully understand and often thought, “Why are you doing this just because I do it? Why don’t you keep doing your own thing?”

But my dad tried to explain it: “He’s not copying you to be you. He’s doing it because he looks up to you. Because you’re cool to him. Because you're his big brother.”

That didn’t fully click for me until way later, and maybe I never will fully understand the weight of that.

I’m not trying to deflect blame, but I do think it’s important to acknowledge that we live in a society that glorifies individuality to the point of narcissism. It tells us that if someone copies you, they’re stealing from you. That they’re fake. That they’re trying to be something they’re not.

But sometimes… they’re really just trying to feel close to something real. Something that makes them feel something, too.

And sometimes, that real thing might simply be you.

And I think that’s the part I didn’t fully understand until recently.

I didn’t have a big brother to look up to. To copy. To learn from. I didn’t have someone stumbling through life a few years ahead of me unknowingly and unintentionally showing me the ropes. I was figuring it all out on my own. And now that I’m older, I realize how hard that really is.

I think my dad knew that too. He and his brother had a rough childhood, which we didn’t really know about until after he passed. Once they were both out of high school, they kinda ran—hard and far—and I don’t think either really looked back. But I think my dad realized how hard growing up was on my uncle. Especially with the lack of a big brother or fatherly figure to guide him.

And I think my dad tried to be the kind of older presence for me that he and his brother never had. That perspective of being a younger brother to a firstborn older brother. A sounding board. A flashlight in the dark.

And now that he’s gone, I realize how hard it is to walk through life without someone older who’s been there before. But that’s also what I think has made me who I am today.

I’ve had to find my own light, reflect a lot, and learn to shine it back outward to find my way. And trust me, there are many days when that bitch is dull—but just as many when it’s bright as hell. Like one of those ASSHOLE PICKUPS WITH LED HEADLIGHTS. WE GET IT. You’re trying to beat the sun AND God himself for the “Brightest Asshole in the Universe" award.

But maybe—just maybe—now that I kinda understand how this reflective light shit works, I too can be that for someone else now. Maybe now I can be the big brother my little brother deserved—and the kind of influence my dad was to me—for the ones growing up without a big brother of their own.