A letter for the eldest daughter in me
This year, i turned 29.
And i have been thinking about all the things i wish someone had told me - not to fix anything, but to simply say: ‘i see you’ or, ‘this is a valid feeling’.
So here are 29 letters to myself. Maybe to you too.
Dear you,
I understand how you feel. You are not the oldest kid, so why are you expected to the responsible one?
Why are you the go-to for things like reading letters, paying bills, mediating and everything that comes in between?
More importantly, why are you the one who has to bear the responsibility of making sure everyone is doing okay, when no one is asking if you are doing okay?
This is more than feeling invisible at work, or feeling too nice, or not feeling enough. It feels like… you are expected to be Superman. Or maybe some other hero who is saving the world alongside Superman while you are never noticed.
People call you, expecting you to pick up. Asking you to run this errand, run that errand. Asking you to check in on this person, that person.
But no one ever stops to check in on you.
Instead, you are left to your own devices, expected to be able to navigate and experience life by yourself. Or maybe with a partner next to you. And that seems to be all they care about.
It’s hard to explain the family dynamics. But at the core of it, you know that it is you. You are the one who is expected to hold everybody together, and yet no one is holding you together. You just comfort yourself day to day, and that makes you a super “reflective” person who is highly self aware.
You go through days of trying to find your self worth. Trying to remind yourself that you are enough. Telling yourself that being invisible to one person doesn’t make you fully invisible. When in actual fact, the very people you feel invisible to, and “not enough” for, are the very people you live your life with.
Chad said, “it’s always been expected of me to be the bridge. But i have come to realise - just because i have been the one holding things together, doesn’t mean anyone asked me to. Or even appreciated it when i did.”
And that is exactly how it feels to be an eldest daughter, doesn’t it?
I lived my life thinking that i beat the societal and gender norms of being the “mother” of the family. That i am expected to do housework, cook, and clean the house. I felt proud that my family didn’t conform to the toxic norms. But little did i know, deep in the cervices, we had fallen into the societal norm that women are the ones holding the family together.
It is not about who is supporting the family. It is not about who is actually cleaning the house. But rather, the expectation that the eldest daughter would always “fix” things. that the eldest daughter is the mother’s emotional support, to help her through everything she is dealing with at home.
And at the end of the day, no one appreciates it. It is not looked upon kindly, with welcoming arms. Instead, it becomes a chain. A chain that traps not only the eldest daughter, but the rest of the family.
I don’t know what to say to make you feel better, because i too, don’t know how to feel better. But on days when you feel tired of being the eldest daughter, i hope you read and realise; that i am here with you.
I am here to hold you gently and tell you that it is alright to lose your temper. That it is alright that you don’t want to put on the front of the eldest daughter anymore. That it is alright, to be sick and tired of being the eldest daughter.
Love,
pf
Being the eldest daughter often comes with a unique set of challenges that many don’t openly discuss. From my experience, it’s not just about stepping into responsibilities but also about the emotional labor that quietly builds up. People tend to expect you to be the reliable one, the emotional anchor, and the problem solver, without realizing how taxing this role can be. I’ve learned that it’s essential to acknowledge these feelings instead of bottling them up. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed or tired. This emotional load doesn’t define weakness; it shows just how deeply you care. Finding moments to prioritize your well-being isn’t selfish — it’s necessary. Another aspect I’ve come to understand is the importance of setting boundaries with family members. As the eldest, it’s tempting to say yes to every request, but learning to say no is empowering and helps maintain your mental health. Connecting with others who share similar experiences has also been healing. Knowing you’re not alone can transform isolation into strength. Sharing stories, like writing letters to ourselves or others, helps release pent-up emotions and create a supportive community. Lastly, never underestimate the value of self-compassion. Celebrate the tiny victories and remind yourself that it's perfectly fine to step back and seek support. The role of the eldest daughter is complex, but so is the capacity for resilience and love that you carry within.
