It often takes years to let go of things we didn’t fully understand at the time the
moments were occurring. In the meantime, we make a series of wrong choices and head
down the wrong road for the wrong reasons, becoming what we vowed never to become.
If we’re lucky, another moment happens that illuminates us. We make a wiser choice,
and then another. We are finally able to change course and redefine ourselves.
That’s what I did, but it took far too long to understand that I alone was responsible
for the outcomes of each wrong decision and why I had made them. Every moment,
every opportunity presented me with an option, and I had a choice to make. Not my
mother. Not my father. No member of the Sorkin family. The decision was mine.
The longer I continued to make snap decisions, unconstructive, harmful, selfish or
image-damaging decisions that seemed like solutions for filling my love-starved soul, the
more miserable I would be. Who did I want to become? The accomplished concert pianist
in my father’s dreams? No. Besides, I had killed the possibility for that achievement
when I resolutely determined, at age twelve, to stand up to the maestro and
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