Good morning. I’ve had the most restful, restorative, balancing weekend. My husband has off of work today, so we both slept in. When we finally woke up, after experiencing a weekend full of rain showers, we looked out of our windows to witness a marvelous, sunny day. The picture above is the top of our screened in porch. The rain drops are sitting on top and they are being kissed by the sunlight and so they are creating the most beautiful, rainbow-y, glittery cover you’d ever want to see. Nature never ceases to amaze me.
Yesterday, I read an interesting article. Sarah Sloat wrote an article for The Atlantic about “eldest-daughter syndrome”. Here are some quotes from the article:
“Women are expected to be nurturers. Firstborns are expected to be exemplars. Trying to be everything for everyone is likely to lead to guilt when some obligations are inevitably unfulfilled.”
“Being an eldest daughter means frequently feeling like you’re not doing enough, like you’re struggling to maintain a veneer of control, like the entire household relies on your diligence.”
“At least, that’s what a contingent of oldest sisters has been saying online. Across social-media platforms, they’ve described the stress of feeling accountable for their family’s happiness, the pressure to succeed, and the impression that they aren’t being cared for in the way they care for others. Some are still teens; others have grown up and left home but still feel over-involved and overextended. As one viral tweet put it, “are u happy or are u the oldest sibling and also a girl”? People have even coined a term for this: “eldest-daughter syndrome.”
I’m the eldest daughter and I found the article to be relatable, but I’m not convinced that it is just an “eldest daughter” thing. I think that it is a daughter thing. I think that it is a woman thing. I’ve known many eldest daughters who didn’t fit the definition of “people pleasing kin-keeper.” They set out on their own, striving for adventure and independence much like their brothers. However, unlike their brothers, they were often shamed for their actions, or made to feel selfish or unnatural.
Last month, my daughter brought home some college friends to attend a local festival in our area that is somewhat akin to our city’s own Mardi Gras. She also included some dear high school friends who attend different universities. Her boyfriend, who is also a student at a different university than our daughter, was also in town to celebrate with his friends. And our youngest son lives downtown near to where the festivities would be, and so our daughter wanted to be sure to see him and celebrate with him as well. At the end of the night, when our daughter and her friends, who were staying with us, came home, they all looked exhausted but happily satiated . . . . except our daughter. She looked mostly exhausted. She had been so busy trying to coordinate everyone else’s great times that she felt depleted, frustrated and slightful resentful that no one seemed to notice the efforts that she had gone to for this event. I hugged her hard and I snidely said, “Welcome to womanhood.”
What woman has not felt any of the emotions above? What woman has not felt any guilt for not fulfilling traditional society’s definitions of nurturer, daughter, sister, mother, etc.? What woman has not felt some secret resentment that the men in her life are not subject to these same standards and expectations? What woman has never asked herself, “I’m happy that everyone is having a wonderful time, but who in the hell is taking care of me? Who really cares if I am doing alright?”
When we “give to get” that’s called codependence. When we get all of our self-worth from what we do for others, without keeping what we are doing for ourselves, as an equal part in that equation, that’s called martyrdom, and martyrdom has a way of going down a dark road to a desperate loss of our own individual identities. When we define ourselves only as somebody’s wife/daughter/mother/sister, etc. we find ourselves empty when we ask ourselves, “Yes, but who are you?”
How to heal this? It’s the same as being able to heal anything. It starts with self-awareness. It starts with asking hard questions and being able to feel the uncomfortable feelings that often come with the true answers. It’s being able to define for yourself what your roles mean in your life, and what you are willing to do in these roles, even if others don’t agree with your choices. It’s creating boundaries. It’s defining “self-care”, and what that means for you. It’s developing self-worth that isn’t reliant on other people’s judgments and values, but those of your own. It isn’t easy. Healing is never an easy process, but to live the fullness of life and our own individual purpose, healing is crucial.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:
1446. What have you done that is out of character for you?