‘I was the child who was smashed in the middle seat’
Clearly, I have no idea what I am doing.
[Editor’s note: “I don’t know what I’m doing” is a recurring personal column that pays homage to Johnny Auping’s “I have no idea what I’m doing” personal column in The New Yorker. Opinions expressed here belong only to the author, and, we hope, nobody else on the planet.–Josh Towner, opinions editor]
By Tatiana Lee
I am the youngest of five siblings in my family. I learned these next few sentences the hard way.
The oldest child or known as the first born, is an experiment of which the parents coddle a little much. The first born tends to follow the rules and listen to mom and dad, otherwise sometimes known as the “golden child”.
The second oldest child or in my family, the middle boy of three, wears a leash looser than the oldest child. The parents figured out how to raise the first and with this, they raise the second, but less coddling.
Meanwhile, the third or so youngest of three boys, my parents still raised fairly well. He somehow wasn’t coddled much, and believe it or not made it to somehow being a good kid, one who asked too many questions, but never really pushed the line with my parents.
Then came along my older sister and I. After raising three boys, then adopting two girls, my parents began at zero again, clueless with where the rules stood with girls. What age is it okay to have them wear makeup? When is dating a conversation? Do I let them go over to boys’ houses? My sister again was the experiment child, one that followed the rules and was the “golden gal” of the family. However, somewhere along the first boy and the first girl, I guess my parents stopped raising kids. Even though, there was one left to raise; me.
Expectations. This is a familiar word that is used without actually saying it. It is one of the words that is there because it is apparent. My oldest brother was the smart, golden boy. My middle brother was a little bit of a trouble maker, came in late, partied a little too much. My older, but the youngest brother of the three was an engineering major, loved the outdoors, and did fairly well at school. My sister, the golden gal, graduating college with some fancy title I wish I could pronounce, then there is me.
I was the child that got lost at Valley Fair because I stopped to look at something, and my whole family kept walking away. Still to this day I believe it wasn’t my fault.
I was the child that had no say in events because the older kids always got their way, therefore, I quickly learned to never input ideas.
I was the child that was smashed in the middle seat because I was the youngest and the smallest.
I was the child that got tickled nonstop and made fun of because when I got upset I was told to grow thick skin.
Now I am the sibling, that has no idea how I got to be exactly how I am.
I am the sibling who battles depression, who didn’t and won’t graduate with a title she can’t pronounce. I am the sibling who still has no say in what my family does. I am the child who still gets picked on and still is smashed as the “middle rider” when taking family trips.
Now what does this mean for me? I feel as though I was given up on as a child and learned a lot on my own. But I also feel like I have no idea why I am the way I am. None of my other siblings dealt with depression, constant headaches or even getting put last over everyone in the family. When it comes to life and how I am, I have no idea who raised me because sometimes I feel like no one did.
I have no idea what I’m doing, but the one thing I know is that.
