My Experience as The First Born and Eldest Daughter
My most revealing story yet and I’m terrified
I am glad that people are starting to see that birth order, and how we are treated as a result, can lead to issues later in life.
It was not in my imagination.
I’ll start with the good parts of being first born
To be honest, I wouldn’t say it’s all negative. And maybe even with the negatives, I can’t imagine switching if I was given an option. I’m so used to the good parts of being numero uno. Has a nice ring to it too. It made me a writer and an empath. I am aware I may be too much for people, emotionally, but I’m ok with who I am.
So happy that #eldestdaughter is trending
Even so. I’m so glad this grievance has started trending and first-born eldest daughters the world over have united in sharing their struggles. Finally, we don’t feel so alone. All those feelings we had were valid.
My first born aunt from the silent generation had it the worst
I would say that first-born eldest daughters from the silent and boomer generations, like my mum’s eldest sister had it far worse than me in terms of having to take on adult responsibilities at a far earlier age.
She was definitely like another mother and never got to be a kid. On the other hand, she was immensely loved by 6 younger siblings as she was just so lovely and nurturing. She did well in school and could have studied further, but had to get married at just 20. Usually, this is the case in South Asian families where there is pressure on the eldest girl to get married so the next eldest daughter can and so forth.
I also heard that my eldest aunt was trusted and depended upon by my grandfather, so that must have been pretty sweet. To be trusted as a child and given that respect can truly transform you.
First born boy
I would not discount that a firstborn boy in these slightly less sexist days would have similar pressures, being the Guinea pig and test subject. The one where the parents are without experience, at their youngest and most anxious. This anxiety gets transferred to the child. So my sympathies are with the firstborn, no matter the gender.
Too young parents in the 70’s who didn’t know any better
My parents were young parents by today’s standards, being in their twenties. Honestly, I felt my mum, especially at 24 was so innocent and just a little girl.
So even though I may sound harsh here I couldn’t have done any better myself at their age and with the limited knowledge they had about child development.
Mental issues were taboo and highly stigmatised. Let alone knowing that raising children a certain way can trigger it.
Deprivation and never really being a kid
Being the eldest could be great, but even as a little kid, it very often sucked for me. Just simple things like feeling I could never sit on my mother’s lap if my younger sister was on it. And it felt like she was permanently attached.
Being 15 months older, I was relegated to my dad. I always wanted my mum over my dad as a child. Even on my first plane journey at 10, I was seated next to my dad and my sister got my mum.
I still feel guilty about my dad feeling rejected and dejected especially when I was a teen. The sadness could be seen on his face.
But in a way seeing how happy my dad was to have me by him made up for it. It didn’t fully dawn on me till shortly before I lost him.
Firstborns tend to be relegated to their dads rather than their mums by default. I’ve noticed this in my own extended family. Not due to a lack of desire to be with their mum, mind you.
I relished every cuddle I could get with my mum. In my memory, I just felt deprived in some way. The younger one always gets to be a kid longer as they will always be the baby at every age.
Strangely when I was little, my mum’s younger sister compensated for this feeling in me, as she always gave me extra attention and made me feel like we had a special connection.
I’m putting this out there so that mums will think twice about their oldest child needing attention as a kid too. We are still a kid and not that resilient.
There was always that longing and feeling of having to grow up faster. Even though I was older by a small age gap I felt the pressure to be the more mature one. The more grown-up one. The pressure was more from my dad than my mum.
Oldest daughters and dads
I won’t discount the benefits which included my father treating me as more mature, always confiding in me and trusting me like an adult, resulting in us being really close. He spoke to me like I was an adult. Perhaps I should thank him for my language abilities.
I wouldn’t trade all that for the world. It gave me a kind of self-assurance, but that self-assurance was tethered to him. It made losing him unbearable. It shifted my entire universe and I never felt so alone & lost.
Without him, I crumbled. No one else treated me with trust, respect and dependence that way. So no more benefits of being the eldest, but all the downsides.
Deep insecurities and maybe even paranoia developed. Suddenly I wasn’t consulted about anything important anymore. I felt like I was in the dark and it led to my deep depression.
More benefits of being first
I never had hand-me-down clothes and always got the new textbooks. To this day I am finicky over books being treated well and I am careful not to break their spines or ever get them dog-eared.
I’m also more selfish as I also had to share and nothing quite belonged to me. My sister has always been more generous. I’m neat and quiet. She’s messy and loud. She’s good at numbers and I’m good with words. Her brain is quick and sharp. Mine is slow and dull. Even more so after chemo. Total opposites even though strangers always mistake us for twins. Which we kinda like.
Not so fun to be number one
Even a favourite dress would be handed down. So the younger one always had extra clothes. We both got an equal number of new outfits, on special occasions, but she got my hand-me-downs too. There was just one time I got a dress meant for her as it was too big for her. Yes, one victory.
On the other hand, I wrote notes and answers neatly on the text book which would be of a huge benefit to learning. Whether that was appreciated I have no clue. Perhaps a brand-new textbook is always best. I would pick brand new myself.
Minus all these perks, I would trade the rest.
Trauma: Why it still sucked big time
I was the test subject. I bore the brunt of the worst tempers. My mum was the epitome of angelic patience. It was my dad and I feel so disloyal revealing it was him even though I know he wouldn’t mind. That was how open he was. Definitely a writer at heart.
I was expected to take sides. Both parents wanted me on their side which even now I think was an unfair burden. The amount of responsibility and guilt I felt crushed me.
I was fighting for love. I remembered in great detail the trauma of every argument. I was the only one hit by my dad. All when I was age 6 and under. It kinda makes you feel worthless.
He later apologised saying he was afraid I would be hysterical and go into clinical depression and be hospitalised like his mum so he slapped me when I cried. I still recall him telling me to stop crying. Why do they do something so counterintuitive. It’s no wonder I’ve had anxiety for as long as I can remember.
He apologised to me about a month before his sudden death. At that moment, I was dumbfounded, but now I wish I could have an open conversation with him about how detrimental that was. I would have loved to scold him in person. And you know what? He would give me the go-ahead to write this.
In my twenties, we grew very close as we were just so alike. And in my life, he was the most open and honest with me. He fully trusted me and respected my opinion. I miss that so much.
And of course, I forgive him if it was done due to fear. Fear that I might be hospitalised for depression like his mum was. It was so easy to forgive because I knew he loved me. Undeniably so. I am sustained because of that love.
Back then my mum was more protective over me because of my dad’s explosive temper. My parents had an arranged marriage and you know how those always work. (Sarcastic tone)
His cutting words towards her made me hate him. I saw tears roll down her cheeks when I lay with her in bed trying to comfort her and it filled me with rage against him. I was the confidante to both parents from age 5 onwards for my dad and perhaps around 11 onwards for my mum.
I was a little girl but her protector. Maybe as a child, I just registered everything intensely. Even now it’s like video clips playing in my head. My elephant memory can be a curse.
I remember wanting to protect my mum and feeling like I was the only one who could, since my dad was clearly affected by what I thought. There were times when he told me to forget it and attempted to apologise, but I glared pushed him away and said I’m not the one he should be saying this to.
Maybe being the eldest gives you a superpower. It makes you bold and a protector for sure. In those moments I was filled with with rage and fearless.
Unfortunately I protect others better than I protect myself.
Always the baby and blissfully unaware
Maybe I was resentful.
My sister was in her own blissfully oblivious world. To me she was always just a little kid. Emotionally though I wish she would share more but she’s optimistic, highly ambitious, competitive, logical and stoic.
We are opposites that way. I wouldn’t mind having some of that optimism. She has tons of friends she initiates contact with regularly and I have none. Well just 2 but we hardly even meet.
My family are my friends. I place the highest importance on family since I lost my dad. Still. I often feel like the defective unlikable unsuccessful one.
Constantly anxious over my mum’s safety
I felt sorry and worried for my mum. I didn’t like leaving her to go to school. I would worry for her safety till I got home. Worried about her being home alone and prey to a robbery. There were many back then, some at knife point and it terrified me. It just seemed so abnormal for me to worry this much as a child. And that intense anxiety never went away.
I used to throw all my hatred and my anger at my dad and he looked quite broken and full of regret. I guess I’m able to forgive as he was clearly sorry. But it sure was a toxic environment to grow up in.
No surprise that I have anxiety issues for as long as I can remember. No surprise that I told no one about the repeated sexual abuse I was to encounter aged 12–15 when that pedophile was engaged as a tutor. My parents had enough troubles as it is.
Only later on as an adult did I realise that adult relationships are complicated. It honestly put me totally off marriage. I’m not against companionship, but marriage with all the legal notes has a sour taste for me as I’ve yet to see a good one. They are all so toxic. Especially for the women who suffer so much emotional abuse and always have to put their dreams aside.
And now that I’m a failure, I am unable to come to terms with it. Failure in terms of societal norms of having a career, a good salary. Either that or be married with kids. Even better if you have both.
I have neither, but I’ve reached peace with my lot and count my blessings of which there are many.
Raised by middle children
Perhaps it was because I was raised by middle children who have also experienced being the youngest at some point.
How would they ever get the burden of being the eldest. That even when you were little, you’re always expected to behave better because you are older. As early as age 6 I was told to set a good example for my sister who was 5. How is 6 so much wiser than 5 I want to chide my dad now. It’s pretty darn ridiculous.
I always vowed if I had kids I would never place that burden on my eldest. I may have overcompensated as a result so it’s a good thing I didn’t birth any. I may also have transferred my unresolved anxieties to them. But I sure would have showered them with love and made sure I was fair.
I was always expected to help my sister with her homework and even though I was two levels above in school years I was a year older and struggled. My sister aced through everything. I didn’t begrudge her and was always proud.
I used to boast about her to my friends. I thought she was the cutest thing that ever existed and showered her with affection. My mum said I was very affectionate towards her.
Usually I got rejected as she wasn’t the type who liked physical affection. After many years I stopped after repeated rejections, and you just can’t get that back. I wish my parents had encouraged it more. Affection wasn’t encouraged in my opinion. She always screamed and I was told to leave her alone. Perhaps I was squeezing her too hard, but I had no clue. In my mind it was pure love, she was my baby and I just adored her so much. It saddens me when I think back on it.
The rules are tighter for the eldest. I wasn’t allowed to join the Brownies but my sister was. They were afraid I would hurt myself. I was bubble wrapped basically and she was allowed to do anything she wanted. Well it felt like that. Except when it came to dating of course. That’s when the restrictions came down on her too.
She probably has a whole long list of why being the youngest sucks but since this is my story I can only speak my truth. She’s just lucky our government had a two child only policy and she dodged being a middle child. Another cousin of mine who is the younger one confessed she would have serious issues if she had ended up as the middle child instead of the youngest. So here’s some sympathy for the middle children out there. Can’t be easy.
Older Cousins: sweet relief from being the eldest
In terms of cousin order, it was quite a relief to be number 3 and have an older cousin brother and sister. Oh that buffer sure felt good. I could lean on and rely on someone else. Everyone looked to them instead. So this how it feels to not be the eldest. A relief from the expectation that you should set a good example, take care of the rest and behave the best.
My eldest cousins were so loving and nurturing. It felt so good to be looked after for a change. They were 7.5 and 13 years older than me so big age gaps.
But to be honest I liked being the boss, the one deciding things. Guess it gets coded in your DNA. Is this why I’m a control freak with perfectionist tendencies. I’m always scanning the room to make sure everyone is ok.
Eldest girl syndrome
I see this syndrome in the eldest girls in my circle even more intensely and how they have suffered as a result.
In one case the eldest was the favourite and so she thrived. But all responsibility was placed on her even though she was only 3 years older. Even at the tender age of 10 she behaved like a mother.
In another case the youngest was the obvious favourite so the eldest withered away with deep clinical depression. I feel for her so much. Maybe they felt being 4 years older she could take it. But no one can take favouritism without falling into a deep depression.
So please parents, don’t do this. I have seen it too much and it pains me to no end. It’s so detrimental to the child with repercussions into adulthood. You are also ruining what would have otherwise been a wonderful sibling relationship.
Sibling relationships need to be nurtured. Favouritism destroys it.
Of the best sibling relationships I clearly see the parents should take credit as they nurtured it above all else. Great sibling relationships need to be nurtured and encouraged. I know kids don’t come with a manual but I want to raise awareness for what works.
My perfectionist control freak tendencies make sense to me now. I don’t think this would have developed if I was the youngest and treated as the baby always and not the one who should know better, help with homework and set a good example.
I write this so parents who are not first born get an idea of how a first born kid gets the short end of the stick and perhaps have some empathy for them.
Please Comment Your Birth Order
I’m so grateful you read this long piece and I’m so keen to hear from you about how you think your birth order affected your psyche.
Thank you for indulging me
🌹
Shanti