eldest daughter syndrome

postcard 10: on being the eldest daughter, selfishness, and identity

This, I think again, is what it is to dream.

---

prelude

You are in control, I tell myself, you won’t let anything bad happen to her again.

—Book Lovers, Emily Henry

I am the eldest daughter of an eldest daughter of an eldest daughter of an eldest daughter of an eldest daughter.

That means that my mother is the eldest daughter of my grandma, who is the eldest daughter of my great-grandmother, who is the eldest daughter of my great-great-grandmother—who is the eldest daughter. I’m not sure about the rest of my family tree, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the line continued even more.

My mom jokingly calls me the “super eldest daughter” because not only am I the firstborn of my family, but I am also the firstborn grandchild. I was an only child for nine years until my sister was born, so I was treated like the third parent while she was growing up as well. This is all to say that much of my identity was shaped around responsibility and the limitations of those responsibilities growing up.

A few months ago, I came across an article called The Plight of the Eldest Daughter. Not only did I come across it, I was sent it a few times. In the article, Sloat writes,

To be clear, birth order doesn’t influence personality itself—but it can influence how your family sees you, Brent Roberts, a psychology professor at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, told me. Eldest kids, for example, aren’t necessarily more responsible than their siblings; instead, they tend to be given more responsibilities because they are older. That role can affect how you understand yourself.

Both of my best friends are eldest daughters, and I’ve realized lately that a good 90% of my close friends are too. I guess it is something I have naturally gravitated toward people who can understand the same feeling of the often crushing responsibility of being the eldest daughter, especially when it comes to younger siblings. I always tell people that to know me, to truly know me, you also need to know how much my sister means to me.

I have never been a sentimental or emotional person, but sometimes when I was fourteen, fifteen, I’d watch my baby sister sleeping and just feel so overwhelmed. Or two years ago, I was on the mall escalator listening to Slipping Through My Fingers while watching my sister smile at me from four steps down, and had the strongest urge to cry because when did she get so big. When I asked my mom why I felt like someone was squeezing my literal heart, she told me that it’s how she feels when she looks at both of us. In an odd way, I’ve become a pseudo-parent, like all older siblings do.

I think the most significant byproduct of being the eldest daughter manifests in the form of certain character traits that I know I wouldn’t have if I wasn’t one. My control freak nature that comes in the form of my three planners and ten-year plan. My knee-jerk tendency to repress my emotions because I don’t think emotions are more important than rationality (especially my emotions, because they’re simply counterproductive). My delusional confidence that I can stretch myself thin across multiple different responsibilities and still accomplish everything, which very frequently clashes with my crippling perfectionism.

I sometimes feel ill-equipped to talk about this because nobody is forcing me to carry the burdens of these responsibilities. I am so privileged to have parents who are extremely understanding and encourage me to prioritize myself and explore what makes me happy and what I want to do. But even then, there’s a baseline expectation that I should be responsible for my sister. My friends and I sometimes joke that our little siblings are our “one and done”, as in, we became parents at seven, eight, nine, and we’re done after our siblings grow up.

I am still learning to separate my identity and dreams from my role as the eldest daughter. Learning to let go of control, letting people help me, and prioritizing myself are habits that I am trying to develop. It is hard because I have wired my brain to do the complete opposite for two decades, but I want to be able to love being the eldest daughter and treat it like a privilege.

But I think a lot of the good milestones and big events of my life occurred because I was the eldest daughter. My sister is currently fourteen, which is the same age I was when I started boarding school. My parents constantly tell me that they would have never sent me had they known just how young fourteen really is. Watching my sister grow up and comparing it with myself at that age is truly a study in retrospect—a lot of I was that young when I ___? But because I never grew up with an expectation of how I was supposed to be at a certain age, I had the freedom to pursue whatever I wanted regardless of my age. I was never told “aren’t you too young for that?”, at least from my parents.

And most importantly, it created the best relationships of my life—between me and my parents. I’m closer to them because I’m their daughter, but also a co-parent in a way. Having them by my side, sometimes as parents, sometimes as friends—I wouldn’t trade their unwavering support in everything I decide to do and their uncanny ability to make me laugh on even the worst days for anything.

interlude i: what i read this week

My 30+ books have arrived this week. I managed to squeeze them on my shelves, but they are looking extremely messy so will have to reorganize this week. Stay tuned for a post on that! And my book haul. I read Mrs. Caliban by Rachel Ingalis, which was…bizarre, to say the least. It was amazing to read in the first half, and then the second half just lost me completely. But the first half is definitely worth a read!

I also read Down and Out in Paris and London, which is a fictional memoir written by George Orwell. This book is two hundred pages of a realistic depiction of destitute poverty and oftentimes gets very bitterly bleak. However, Orwell’s writing shines through and he manages to bring so much life and technicolor in through his beautiful prose.

Here are some articles I read this week:

1. The Plight of the Eldest Daughter

2. This Is Why You Love Taking Personality Tests So Much

3. Terrifying Vistas of Reality (H P Lovecroft)

4. Who’s Behind All the ‘Pussy in Bio’ on X?

5. The Case for Marrying an Older Man

6. What is it like to remember all the faces you’ve ever seen?

7. The Rise and Fall of the Trad Wife

8. Can you ever really escape your ex?

9. A Puffin Comeback

10. How Caravaggio Destroyed (and Saved) Painting

interlude ii: what i watched this week

I finally watched Past Lives! I loved it so much more than I expected to. It gave me the same sort of muted melancholy heartache that Aftersun gave me. I think it has to do with the fact that these movies with no real neat resolution reminds me that such is the nature of being a grown-up (which prompted me to start a list of books and movies that make me feel this way—stay tuned!)

I also rewatched Mamma Mia and finished season 2 of Abbott Elementary. It’s definitely my favorite sitcom since Modern Family and Schitt’s Creek ended—it has the same humorous moments while being heartwarming. I might finally start season 2 of Yellowjackets next week!

Here are some video essays I watched this week: this video on an untranslatable royal title, this video on my favorite painting ever, and this video on Twilight’s place in 2024.

---

postlude

Vittorio Reggianini, La Soirée, ca. 1880-1938

things i love: parfum de marly’s delina, peonies, yellow tulips, gucci jackie bag in red patent leather, jellycat bunnies, toast with salted butter and raspberry jam, reading in the sun outside.

love,
elle