I'm not sure whether this falls under depression or anxiety, but I'm going with anxiety because of how "active" and "keep me up at night"-ish this is for me.

My only brother, seven years younger than me and crushing it at his idyllic Florida college, was described as a "miracle child" when he was born, and the moniker turned out to be very fitting. He's always been charming, social, generous, academically successful, and all-around healthy. He was valedictorian at the same high school I attended (and barely ranked top 10 at). He played a crazy number of sports (and excelled at them all, while I quit the dive team after my freshman year and then stuck with marching band). I just learned that he was voted captain of his college's sailing team (if you're thinking that's the whitest thing you ever heard, you're right), and that he's doing great at his difficult biochem classes.

I'm so proud of him, but I'm guilty of bitterness, too.

I can't stop comparing my experiences and accomplishments to his. I studied psychology and studio art in my frozen midwestern college, and to my parents' chagrin, never wanted to get a master's in psych, making it a pretty useless degree. I worked at an insurance claims office out of college, which paid well but wasn't very prestigious, considering my family of doctors, lawyers, financial planners, and advanced degree therapists.

Even that job was too much for me, and drove me to a pretty low (like, hospitalization low) point in my life. Now I'm working for my uncle as an administrative assistant at his firm, and while I know my very businesslike family would never hire me if I weren't up to snuff, I still worry that I was offered the position in a gesture of pity.

I look at my brother, and I see what I can only assume my parents always wanted: a smart, healthy, straight young man, considerate of other human beings and destined for success. Then there's me: not quite as smart, collecting all sorts of physical maladies, genderqueer and gay as a $2 bill, and stocked to the brim with neuroses.

I know my family loves me, but I get so self-conscious at family gatherings. I'm desperate to prove that I'm just as good as my brother. I self-published a novel and maintain an active blog primarily for my own enjoyment, but also because I feel compelled to produce things that prove I'm valuable to the family and society.

I frequently feel embarrassed for existing. I can't stand the thought that my parents think less of me, and I stay up at night panicking about it.

Anybody relate, or have any advice to share?