Responsible, Bossy, or Both?

If you're not an eldest daughter, you don't necessarily need to keep reading. Unless, of course, you want to get a sneak peek into what's going on in your older sister's head. If so, definitely keep reading!

I came across an article on The Atlantic the other day that gave me pause. It sounded like they were talking about me... "The Plight of the Eldest Daughter" with the tag line "Women are expected to be nurturers. Firstborns are expected to be exemplars. Being both is exhausting."

Yes! I get it! I am an eldest daughter and as I read the article, I found myself agreeing wholeheartedly. This line, in particular, had me nodding vigorously:

"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."

Ouch.

This is me. Totally.

I never feel like I'm doing enough, and yet I am always on the edge of overwhelm. I feel responsible for whatever goes on in our household (and sometimes other households). I believe that if I slip up, if I miss something, then the entire world is going to come down around my ears.

It's a relief to know that this is not just a "me" thing, but actually an "other people have this too" thing. Parents often expend a lot more effort on their first child, trying to "get it right". They expect more of Child 1 in terms of grades, career, health. By the time Child 2 comes along, the parents have relaxed and eased up on the micro-managing. Although parents still tend to load more responsibility on the first child. The eldest is expected to be a good example, to lead the way, to care for the younger one(s), to be a support for the mother. Add in the fact that girls/women are expected to be nurturers and it's easy to see the sticky trap of eldest daughter syndrome.

When my Dad could no longer live independently in another city, who offered to have him move into the basement suite. Moi. When he passed away, who took care of his estate? Me. When Mom passed away, who took care of her estate? Yep, me again. Who steps up over and over again to shoulder responsibility? Yeah. Me.

Yeah. It's exhausting.

And maybe it's a combo of several beliefs. Perhaps I don't believe that my younger sibling can do the job as well as I can do it. (Hello, Perfectionism) Or maybe I believe that since I don't have kids and a busy job like she does, it makes more sense to take this on because she's going to push back anyhow. (Yup, People-Pleaser)

Whatever it is, it is a well-worn track in my brain, a pattern that just snaps into place as soon as something shows up on the horizon.

A situation or problem needs to be handled? Obviously it is MINE to handle.

Even if it really doesn't involve me directly. 

Yes, eldest daughters struggle with boundaries.

Which may be why... when asked to describe the qualities of firstborns, people who are firstborns will choose words like "responsible" and "leadership", whereas people who are NOT firstborns will mutter words like "bossy" and "over-controlling". Um. Yeah. Possibly.

We first-borns are raised to take charge, to take responsibility, to lead the way, to set an example, to handle what needs handling. But I am seeing more and more that, eventually, it leads me into a nasty cul-de-sac of over-functioning, exhaustion and resentment.

It's not a pleasant realization, but now that I've seen it, I'm hopeful that I can alter the pattern. Even just a pause between seeing a responsibility and taking it on.

A pause during which I can ask "Is this mine?" And listen for the answer.

More Reading

What Is Eldest Daughter Syndrome? A Therapist Breaks it Down

The Atlantic article - needs a subscription - The Plight of the Oldest Sister - The Atlantic

The Year I Stopped Trying to Do It All

Sometimes I just need a reality check. It's odd though, to get it from an Artificial Intelligence, and somehow, harder to ignore.

2025 was a shit year. Mom died. Aunt died. Someone else died. Dealing with Mom's estate. Clearing out her apartment. Going to her funeral and then the laying of the headstone. Grieving (oh yeah, grieving). Along with some health issues. And the Airbnb. Working 12 hour shifts on some gig work for a few months (out of town for some of it). And I don't even know what else.

In the middle of that, I was beating myself up for not being able to stay on top of our Airbnb social media and newsletter campaigns. And lamenting the fact that the 3 or 4 blogs I work on were falling by the wayside.

Looking back, the problem wasn’t that I wasn’t trying hard enough. It was that I was treating everything in my life as if it all needed to run at full speed, all year long.

I took my inadequacy to ChatGPT who, after a pregnant pause, suggested, quite sweetly, that I was expecting WAY too much of myself. There was NO WAY anyone could keep up the pace I had presented. In essence... it suggested I was just a tad out of touch with reality.

This idea that I can do anything... but I can't do everything... all of the time. That's a hard lesson to grasp. In my skewed memory, I had done anything and everything, all of the time. To the point that my mother-in-law saying, "Everyone needs a Gigi", was a badge of honour. Not only could I do everything I wanted to do... but I could do everything that everyone else wanted me to do! And some things that they didn't even know that they wanted me to do...

Yeah. Well. This year jerked that rug out from under my feet. That explained why I felt like I was lying flat on the floor pinned down by a mountain of grief and expectations and demands, pretty much all of it self-imposed.

I thought I just needed some time to get caught up. Hah! I thought I just needed some good mornings at Starbucks with a hot chocolate. Nope. I thought I just needed life to stop for a few days or a few weeks. Yeah, right. Since when has that ever happened.

There was no pathway through this murky year. And I was carrying wayyyy too much. Not just emotionally — but logistically. Everything was expected to keep going, regardless of what the season actually was. Too many expectations and demands. Too many of these laments... "but I used to be able to do all of this!!"... My partner tried to give me a reality check but it didn't really stick.

Someone bringing all of this to ChatGPT, and it's electronic objectivity, hit me hard. And, honestly, when I laid it all out for it... I could see it a bit more objectively as well. It gently suggested that it was no wonder I was overwhelmed and flirting with burnout. No one could maintain that pace. On top of that... it actually had a most helpful suggestion.

Rather than trying to keep all of my balls in the air, all of the time... why not think of my projects as "seasonal".

Say what?

You know... seasonal... so rather than trying to do Airbnb social media posts 3 times a week, 52 weeks a year... and failing miserably and crashing out in July... why not plan for that? Why not do social media posts from Christmas to end of July? We usually have a longer term booking in the fall anyhow, and don't really "need" social media then. Why not just run it for a "season".

Huh. Why not, indeed? Good question and... well... huh. It's kind of what happens anyhow. Because even though I buffer and pre-post things a month in advance, by the time July and August hit, we are in full-blown garden and high- Airbnb-turnover mode. Plus, I'm usually sick of trying to drum of social media content ideas by that point.

The seasonal idea is all about pacing... it's all about times of productivity and times of rest. It's about taking a break and coming back later with fresh ideas and new energy. 

And so we sat down and mapped out seasons for my various projects. The Airbnb social media season was mapped out. My espionage blog, which is insanely research heavy and can suck hours out of a day... that one got a season from August to December. I had had similar expectations with it... that I should be posting 1 blog a week for 52 weeks. Yeah. In reality, not happening. But for 6 months? Definitely doable.

One of the things I am a firm believer in is building buffers into things... or parking downhill. If can have one or two months of blog posts pre-scheduled... I have breathing room for when life throws a monkey wrench or a boomerang... or it just goes sideways. And with a gap of 4 or 5 months... it's easier to build in a buffer.

There were other projects, that only need output once a month, and those... we agreed... were better to keep going throughout the year. Like a monthly newsletter for our Airbnb. 

All a sudden, it all looked a bit more manageable. There was less self-imposed pressure. Less expectations of myself. Less shoulda/coulda/woulda. More breathing space. More rest space.

I was able to lay down some projects and say “not now”. I was able to look at my overwhelming to-do list and kick a number of things down the road and say “not this month”.

There were days in my calendar with nothing scheduled. I could sit back and read a book, or get up and go for a hike, without projects calling my name.