I recognise the pressure there is to define ourselves at an early age, even when we barely know what's going on in our own minds. I remember struggling with the idea of who I was supposed to be, I even struggled to pick a favourite colour! I found myself grappling with the Power Rangers. Jason was the Red Ranger, just like me, and I always loved the colour blue. This coincidence is the perfect example of how torn I was as a small child. I was not sure if I could like the colour blue anymore.
Seventh grade was such a challenging period in my life. I cannot help but share massive respect for the boy who lived next door. Thinking about my bar mitzvah year and how fortunate I was to have him as a close friend. Even though his bar mitzvah had been the year before, he was incredibly supportive during mine. We had a long connection. He was a great guy who came from a good family. Our friendship continued through to the end of high school. I have so many fond memories of our time together.
Every weekend of that year was another celebration, and they were not small. They were banquets. It was compulsory to invite the entire grade. This automatically included me for the functions. I remember my favourite part was the speeches. I had butterflies in my stomach every time the friends grabbed the microphone. I would start taking mental notes of how I would conduct my speech when I had the chance. It would always leave me feeling excited and motivated. I just knew I could deliver a truly heartfelt speech.
It was a tradition for the kids to go for a photoshoot leading up to their big day. The photo would appear at the entrance to the venue in large format with a thick white frame. The trend was for the guests to be able to write little notes in the white space. I was relieved to have my braces removed the same day of my photoshoot. My mom and I argued over which photo we would choose. I took a look recently and remember the photo she chose of me, smiling and happy. We settled on the photo I chose. I showed no expression whatsoever. I was so scared of getting teased and judged.
Second to the big photo was the theme. Every kid had a theme for their reception. The sporty kids had football themes. The theme always suited the child. This put pressure on me to think about what I liked. My theme was racing cars. I did not even like race cars. I had to think about what the other kids would like. My parents ordered an ostentatious backdrop of a race car. It was meant to be a surprise. They only wanted what was best for my special day. I remember how underwhelming the whole car idea really was.
I chose two boys to say my speech. I remember their speech lacked a certain substance. There was little in the way of knowing anything about me really. It was as if there was no substance to me. I felt totally out of my depth. I was the centre of attention and I didn't know what to do or say. I blushed with embarrassment throughout the day. I simply never had such focus on me. I even danced with a girl at my reception and received my first kiss.
As bleak as the boy's speech turned out, I was looking forward to his special day where I could return the favour with an epic speech. I was already planning and deciding how I was going to tackle it. It would be my moment to prove I was an attentive friend. It was my moment. He didn't see it that way. He didn't include me in his speeches.
I was stunned, horrified, beaten down, and confused. He asked another kid to give his speech. I watched in horror as my only real opportunity to give a speech was blindsided and disregarded like it was nothing. I remember the feeling of loss as I knew this was the only opportunity I had for the entire year. I genuinely thought he would reciprocate considering how I asked him to give a speech for me.
Primary school was a roller coaster of ups and downs. I encountered bullying, peer pressure, and continuously getting bumped off the path I had set out for myself. I suffered with doubt and fear. I was certainly not ready for high school. My father always said my bar mitzvah was my shining moment before my downfall started. I never quite understood that even though thinking back it makes a lot of sense.
Growing up isn’t about knowing exactly who we are, it’s about learning that we don’t need to have all the answers early on. Childhood pressures, expectations, and the desire to fit in can make us bend ourselves into shapes we don’t recognize just to feel accepted. Whether it was choosing a colour that “made sense,” picking a theme that others would approve of, or longing for validation from friends, those moments weren’t failures, they were lessons.
What matters most is not that we stumbled, but that those stumbles helped us understand who we really are. Identity isn’t something we declare once, it’s something we build quietly, painfully, and proudly over time. And sometimes the moments that hurt the most, the speeches not given, the support not returned, are the ones that push us toward authenticity.
The truth is, finding yourself often starts with feeling lost. And the courage you showed then, even in confusion, embarrassment, and disappointment, is the same courage that shapes you now. You didn’t fall from a shining moment; you climbed from one. And you’re still climbing toward the version of yourself you choose, not the one the world tries to choose for you.