The weight of expectation (and the space it creates)
Hi, I’m Omar, the founder and CEO of Kinnect. This blog is part of the From Omar series, where I share my reflections on family, relationships, and connection. These aren't clean-cut lessons or tidy takeaways — they’re raw thoughts that I’m still working through myself.
There’s a lot of pride in being the one who “goes beyond.” For many of us, especially those from immigrant families, Latino families, or any family where "doing better than your parents" is more than a suggestion — it’s a mandate.
That pride is layered with love, hope, and belief in your potential. Your family pours into you so you can do more, be more, and have more. And when you do, it feels good. It feels like everything they hoped for is coming true.
But no one really talks about what happens next.
When you’re the first to achieve something, you also step into new spaces that are completely different from home. These new spaces aren’t just physical — they’re mental, cultural, and emotional spaces too. You’re navigating new interests, experiences, and relationships that your family might not fully understand. And while that’s not always a bad thing, it can feel isolating.
For me, I’ve had to learn how to hold space for two parts of myself — the person I was raised to be, and the person I’m becoming. And sometimes, those two parts of me don’t fit neatly together.
The very success our families push us toward is also the thing that pulls us further away from them.
What distance actually looks like
If you’re the first child, the first in your family to go to college, or the first to "make it out," you probably know this feeling. Distance isn’t always physical.
Sometimes, distance shows up as "interest distance" — when your hobbies change, your goals shift, and suddenly the topics that once bonded you with family don’t hit the same anymore.
For others, it’s physical — moving to a new city, going to college out of state, or taking a job in another country. But even if you live close, distance still finds a way to show up.
And it’s not like there’s one big dramatic event that causes it. Distance just happens.
One day, you realize you haven’t called someone you love in weeks. Or you sit on the phone and realize you don’t know what to talk about.
It’s this subtle, quiet space that grows between you and people you love. You know you care about them. You know you want to stay close. But the distance — mental, emotional, or physical — makes it feel harder than it should be.
This isn’t a solo experience.
Through Kinnect, I’ve had so many conversations with people about how "hard it is to talk to people you love." People don’t talk about this enough. We assume love should make connection easy, but it doesn’t always work that way.
Sometimes, love makes you feel more pressure, not less.
How do we stay close when we feel far?
This is the question I’m asking myself every day. It’s also one of the driving questions behind Kinnect.
How do you stay close to the people you love — even when life, distance, and different interests pull you apart?
I don’t have a clean answer for this. I’m still figuring it out. But here’s what I do know:
Connection takes effort — on both sides.
One of the biggest myths we tell ourselves is that closeness should feel "natural." That if love is strong, connection should just happen. But that’s not real. Connection is active work. It’s about taking initiative, asking better questions, and showing up consistently.
The questions we ask matter more than we think.
One of the things I love most about Kinnect is the way it helps people ask better questions. Sometimes, we get stuck in this cycle of, "Hey, how are you?" and "Good, you?" conversations that go nowhere.
But when you ask a more thoughtful question — like "What’s something you’ve been thinking about a lot lately?" or "What’s something you learned this week?" — you create space for something deeper.
Proximity isn’t everything.
I used to think that being physically close to family would solve everything. Like, “If I just lived closer, I’d call them more.” But that’s not it.
I know people who live with their parents and still feel distant. Closeness comes from connection, not proximity.
The role of Kinnect in all of this
At its core, Kinnect is about helping people feel more connected. And not just in the "we’re on the same text thread" way, but in a way that actually bridges emotional distance.
The way I see it, connection isn’t just about saving memories — it’s about creating opportunities for new ones.
One of the reasons I’m building Kinnect is because I know there are people like me — people who want to be close to their family, but aren’t sure how to make it happen. They want to ask better questions. They want to capture the kinds of memories that actually matter. They want to feel like they’re building something meaningful with the people they love.
Right now, Kinnect helps people capture and share life stories. But the future I’m dreaming about is one where Kinnect goes even deeper.
I want it to be a tool that helps you know:
- What to ask
- When to ask it
- How to ask it
I want Kinnect to help bridge the emotional distance between you and the people you love.
What i’m thinking about now
If I’m being honest, I still don’t have all the answers. I’m still learning how to stay close to family and friends. I’m still figuring out how to maintain relationships that change as I change.
But one thing I’m holding onto is this:
The memories we want most aren’t the ones that happen naturally. They’re the ones we create on purpose.
I’m working on that. I’m working on showing up better for the people I love. I’m working on making the effort to call, to ask better questions, and to bridge that space between us.
I’m also working on building Kinnect so that all of us can do that together.
If this resonates with you, I hope you’ll sit with it for a bit. Ask yourself this:
What’s one question you haven’t asked someone you love — but you’ve been thinking about it?
For me, that question is:
"What’s something you never got to do that you wish you had?"
I think I’ll ask someone I love that today.
abrazos,
omar
