I Wish You All the Best

Think of a name as a key. Not a generic one, but a custom-made key, forged from years of private thoughts and quiet feelings, designed to unlock a single, very specific door: the one to your truest self. For most people, the key they're given at birth works just fine. It turns the lock, the door swings open, and the world they see inside matches the world they feel within. But what happens when your key doesn't fit? It scrapes and grinds in the lock, refusing to turn. The door stays shut. You're left standing on the outside, looking at a version of yourself that everyone else recognizes, but you can't get into. Every time someone uses your name, it's like they're rattling the wrong key in the lock, a constant, grating reminder that you're stuck, unable to simply be.

This is the feeling that sits at the heart of Ben De Backer’s story, a teenager who is kicked out of their home after telling their parents they are nonbinary. The painful dissonance of having a key that doesn't work, of hearing a name that feels like a costume, was a deeply personal one for the author. Mason Deaver, who is also nonbinary, wrote “I Wish You All the Best” because it was the book they desperately needed to read as a teenager. They wanted to create a story where a character like them could not only exist but could also find love, acceptance, and a key that finally, beautifully, fits.

Module 1: The High Cost of Concealing Your Identity

The story opens with Ben, a high school student living under immense pressure. They are about to come out as nonbinary to their parents, and the stress is physically debilitating. This is a profound internal conflict that manifests as a loss of appetite, anxiety attacks, and a deep sense of disconnection from their own body.

Ben’s experience shows that hiding your authentic self is an active, exhausting job. It requires constant performance. When Ben’s parents ask how they are, Ben defaults to "fine" or "just tired." This is a strategic move to deflect, to avoid scrutiny, and to maintain a fragile peace. Ben even fakes agreement with their father's casually sexist comments during a movie, all to avoid conflict. This performance of "normalcy" is a survival tactic, but it comes at a tremendous psychological price. The energy spent maintaining this facade is energy that can't be used for growth, creativity, or connection.

This leads to a critical insight. Conditional acceptance is a form of control, not true acceptance. Ben's parents offer love and approval, but it's tied to specific conditions. Ben can be Art Club president, but only if their grades don't slip. Their mother suggests a haircut, a subtle pressure to conform to a masculine appearance. Their father's approval hinges on shared, traditionally gendered perspectives. This dynamic creates an environment where Ben feels their worth is transactional. It’s tied to what they achieve and how well they conform, not who they are. This is a quiet but powerful form of control, and it forces Ben into a corner where authenticity feels like a dangerous risk.

So what happens when the pressure becomes too much? Ben feels a compulsive need to tell their parents the truth. It's about wanting a complete, honest relationship. The pursuit of authenticity is a fundamental human need, even when it’s terrifying. Ben relies on scripts and supportive texts from a friend, Mariam, to prepare. But in the moment of truth, the script vanishes. It becomes a raw, vulnerable act. The initial feeling is relief, a breath of fresh air after years of holding it in. But that relief is short-lived. The story immediately signals that this act of courage will have devastating consequences, setting the stage for the crisis to come.

Module 2: Surviving the Fallout of Rejection

We've just seen Ben take a leap of faith. Now, we witness the fall. The second module explores the immediate, brutal aftermath of rejection and the first glimmers of hope in an unexpected place.

Coming out doesn't lead to a difficult conversation. It leads to a crisis. Ben's father yells. He demands they leave. Their mother stands by, silent. Ben is kicked out of their home on a freezing night with no shoes, no phone, no coat. This is the ultimate fear realized. The book makes it clear: Authenticity can trigger immediate, life-altering rejection. It’s an explosion. Ben is suddenly homeless, alone, and grappling with the shock of being discarded by the people who were supposed to love them unconditionally.

In this moment of total crisis, a lifeline appears from an unexpected direction. Ben calls their estranged sister, Hannah, who they haven't spoken to in ten years. This introduces a powerful lesson. Support often comes from unforeseen places, especially when traditional structures fail. Despite the years of silence and distance, Hannah answers. She drives to get Ben without hesitation. She provides warmth, food, and a safe place to land without demanding immediate explanations. Her actions are a stark contrast to their parents' conditional love. Hannah’s support is practical and immediate. It’s about a warm car seat, a quiet room, and the unspoken promise of safety.

But here's the thing. Safety doesn't mean the pain disappears. The trauma of rejection leaves deep emotional and psychological scars. Ben is physically and emotionally numb. They can't sleep. The sound of their parents' yelling replays in their mind. Even in Hannah's home, they feel like an intruder, awkward and unsure. This is a critical point. Healing isn't a straight line. The immediate aftermath of trauma is a state of disorientation. Ben is safe, but they are not yet okay. They are haunted by self-doubt, wondering if they should have just kept their mouth shut.

This module also underscores a difficult reality for many. Explaining your identity is often a recurring, exhausting burden. Ben tries to explain what being nonbinary means to their parents, but they are met with anger and misunderstanding. Their father uses hurtful, misinformed language. Their mother invokes religion as a reason for her disapproval. This is a shutdown, not a dialogue. Ben's experience shows that the act of coming out isn't a single event. It often involves educating others, correcting misconceptions, and facing down prejudice, all while dealing with your own emotional fallout. It's a heavy lift, and it highlights the immense courage required to simply exist as yourself.