Chapter One:
From the outside, it might look like I'm the responsible one. The eldest sibling - the one who always knows what to do, who gets things done, who holds the house together when no one else can. That's the version of me that everyone sees and relies on. To them, I'm the dependable one. The rock. The girl who grew up strong and capable, someone they can lean on without hesitation. But what they don't see, what no one seems to pause and think about, is that I never chose this role. I didn't sign up to be the fallback adult when things got hard.
It was handed to me, not all at once, but slowly and silently, disguised as "helping out." At first, it was just small things - helping my sibling get ready for school, watching him while dinner was cooking, picking up around the house. They seemed like manageable tasks, simple ways to support the family. I told myself it was the least I could do. And maybe back then, it was. But then one task became another. Then another. Each time I stepped up, they stepped back. Each time I filled a gap, the gap became permanent.
Until, eventually, I wasn't just a sibling anymore. I was a stand-in mother. I was the one comforting my brother when he cried at night. I was the one reminding him to do his homework, getting him ready in the morning, making sure he ate, listened, behaved. I became the glue that kept things from falling apart, without realizing that, piece by piece, I was losing myself in the process. And no one ever asked me if I was okay with that. Because once I proved I could handle it, everyone assumed I would - and that I should.
And by the time I realized how heavy it all was, I was already carrying it.
From the outside, it might look like I'm the responsible one. The eldest sibling - the one who always knows what to do, who gets things done, who holds the house together when no one else can. That's the version of me that everyone sees and relies on. To them, I'm the dependable one. The rock. The girl who grew up strong and capable, someone they can lean on without hesitation. But what they don't see, what no one seems to pause and think about, is that I never chose this role. I didn't sign up to be the fallback adult when things got hard.
It was handed to me, not all at once, but slowly and silently, disguised as "helping out." At first, it was just small things - helping my sibling get ready for school, watching him while dinner was cooking, picking up around the house. They seemed like manageable tasks, simple ways to support the family. I told myself it was the least I could do. And maybe back then, it was. But then one task became another. Then another. Each time I stepped up, they stepped back. Each time I filled a gap, the gap became permanent.
Until, eventually, I wasn't just a sibling anymore. I was a stand-in mother. I was the one comforting my brother when he cried at night. I was the one reminding him to do his homework, getting him ready in the morning, making sure he ate, listened, behaved. I became the glue that kept things from falling apart, without realizing that, piece by piece, I was losing myself in the process. And no one ever asked me if I was okay with that. Because once I proved I could handle it, everyone assumed I would - and that I should.
And by the time I realized how heavy it all was, I was already carrying it.