Eldest: our in-visible curse

There are moments in university, once a couple of months have passed since I’ve last seen my family, in which I indulge in feeling normal.

I bask in the daily, squabbling over nonsense, allowing myself frivolous conversations and distant plans.

I have fun feeling normal, I give it to myself from time to time.

The problem arises once I go back, I come back and everything else does too. As I take the first step into the door I’m bashed with all that makes me not really normal.

That everything that has tied me to a bed, making me choke for freedom. I glance at the numb emptiness as I’m not really greeted if not by that bundle.

I’m the eldest, I was born to bare a thickness that can’t be explained.

Yet maybe I can explain it.

I guess that’s why my writer’s block has dissolved after just a couple of hours of being here.

Many maybes, yets and guesses but who am I to make a statement if not just an older sister.

I write my anguish to lessen that hollow feeling and cracks I can’t seem to be able to fix.

Yet I fixed many things, not the most important. I wasn’t able to fix that, nor the bundle. It is far too … complicated, maybe?

I punish my self preservation, I fear my joy, yet I happen to be happy when I allow it. As joyful as it gets.

Someone would call this misery, I’d much rather call it the invisible burden. It’s a package of responsibility, adultness and overachievement that is gifted to those girls that happen to be born first.

“You’re such a mature girl for your age”

If only I could recall the countless times I‘’ve been addressed this sentence I’d… well. I’m not sure what I’d do but I guess my aim was to emphasise. Emphasise the fact that exploitation and abuse is acceptable if perpetuated on us special kind of creatures.

Many wish for boys as the first newborn is brought to life to lengthen the family name through centuries. But deep down we all know that their wish is for a girl, not for the pure joy of it but to take care of her younger siblings.

“You’re a second mum to your brothers”

Again, countless times. But rather than a second mother they would have needed their father. Absence is the root of many different illnesses, one of those is the call of the eldest to step up and take a place that was never fulfilled.

Works wonders I guess.

But don’t judge me when I tell you I don’t want kids, I raised ones that weren’t mine.

Once I’m out and about I look back to those I’ve left home. Am I to blame? Was I selfish? Did I put my needs in front of their wants?

So when I’m back in uni don’t judge me if I act as if I were just me. Just a girl living. Without that depth that ploughs my every breath.

Love that for me and us.

I hear you, older sisters around the world.

I share your bundle, your burden, your conflict, your grief.

I’m proud of you.