A self-help guide for eldest daughters

After reading the Refinery29 article entitled "6 Women On The Pressure Of Being The Eldest Kid Of Immigrants," I couldn't help but see the parallels to my own experience. The women discussed serving as the guinea pig for their parents, taking over familial responsibilities that are typically reserved for adults, and becoming the designated third parent.

As the eldest daughter in my family, I've had similar experiences: I consistently provide significant emotional support to each of my family members when they navigate intrafamily turmoil, serve as a role model for my brother in every aspect, and ensure that peace is kept within my home.

The best way I can describe myself is that I am the designated Family Manager. 

Those who experience "eldest daughter syndrome" typically feel a strong sense of responsibility; they are considered type A, overachievers, or perfectionists; they struggle with people-pleasing behaviors; and they have a hard time setting boundaries. This list isn't all-encompassing, but these are some of the most common traits that eldest daughters share. 

After reading through this blog, it appears I am not the only one who navigates the dynamics that come with being the oldest child in their family. As such, I decided to compile a "self-help" guide for those of us suffering from eldest daughter syndrome. Implementing the recommendations below is easier said than done, but it is a first step in prioritizing our well-being.

Develop Boundaries

One of the most important ways to combat eldest daughter syndrome is to create boundaries with your family members. This can be especially difficult when our families consistently rely on us, but establishing your limits and learning to delegate responsibility is one of the most important ways to avoid emotional burnout. 

Learning to set boundaries involves recognizing that saying "no" is not only acceptable but necessary for maintaining our well-being. This can start with small steps, such as limiting our availability to others, avoiding phone calls after a certain time, or declining requests that drain our energy. 

Differentiating between independence and excessive self-reliance is also key. Becoming independent can be seen as a strength and is commonly associated with being the eldest daughter. However, when that independence morphs into an unhealthy inability to depend on others, it can become a serious impediment to our health. If you find yourself slipping into the habit of refusing to ask for help, it is best to pause and remember to reach out when a situation become overwhelming.

Find a Community and Share your Experience

Finding a community of like-minded individuals is a powerful tool for eldest daughters navigating the challenges of our role. Connecting with others who have experienced similar pressures and responsibilities can provide us with a sense of validation.

For example, after reading a satirical article detailing the LinkedIn profile of an eldest daughter, I forwarded the piece to one of my childhood friends who--like me--is also the oldest daughter in her family. We shared jokes about which portions of the fictitious profile page was most applicable to us and we found it amusing, relevant, and almost too accurate. Reminiscing over our shared experience as eldest daughters reminded me that my experiences are not singular and that other people share the same struggles that I do. 

Practice Self-Love and Self-Appreciation

Practicing self-love is essential for eldest daughters seeking to overcome the pressures of our role. Growing up as a caretaker often means putting others first, which can lead to neglecting one's own emotional and physical needs. Self-love involves prioritizing personal care and recognizing that take care of ourselves is not selfish but necessary. This can include activities like spending time alone, engaging in hobbies, or simply taking moments to reflect on our own needs. 

In an effort to practice more self-appreciation, I created a list of traits I developed which can be attributed to being the oldest child in my family. For example, I love that I prioritize family time and I am extremely proud of my ability to be a problem-solver while also being empathetic; I attribute each of these qualities to my experience as an eldest daughter.

By implementing these strategies, eldest daughters can begin to break free from the pressures of our role, prioritize well-being, and cultivate a healthier balance between family responsibilities and personal fulfillment. As eldest daughters, we have to remember that we cannot pour from an empty cup. 

Lessons from a little golden wiener dog

A Long-Awaited Yes

Nearly 14 years ago, my parents finally agreed to let us get a dog.

I was only 10 years old when they gave in to our constant begging. We visited several shelters before one little golden puppy, shaped like a tiny hot dog, caught our eye. He was a blur of energy, racing up to us as we stood outside his kennel, wide-eyed and hopeful.

Several families were already interested in adopting him. It was easy to see why. He was the most beautiful, curious, and loving creature we had ever seen.

Yet somehow the stars aligned, and despite the odds, he became ours.

Learning Through the Unfamiliar

At the time, we were one of the first Punjabi families in our area to adopt a dog. Pets were often seen as an extra responsibility or financial burden, something unnecessary when life already came with enough challenges. Adopting him was a choice that felt unfamiliar, something that set us apart from those around us.

When we brought him home, that unfamiliarity became clear. None of us had grown up with dogs. For the first week, we felt unsure, maybe even a little afraid. We questioned whether we were ready, whether we knew what we were doing, whether we had made a mistake.

Over time, though, that little golden puppy taught us not to be afraid. His love was patient and steady. Slowly, he turned uncertainty into trust, fear into comfort, and transformed our house into a home filled with laughter, care, and growth.

The Lessons He Left Behind

This past Saturday, we lost our sweet boy.

The grief is heavy. Yet what remains is everything he gave us—his spirit, his loyalty, and the quiet lessons he taught us over the years. Most importantly, he showed us how to face the unknown without letting fear take over.

That lesson became even more important years later when I entered law school as a first-generation student. 

Walking into law school felt much like bringing him home for the first time. No one in my family had walked this path before. I didn’t have a roadmap or someone who could tell me exactly what to expect. 

Instead, I had to figure it out on my own, balancing the pressure of my own doubts with the weight of my family’s hopes.

First-generation students often live in two worlds. We carry the experiences and sacrifices of our families on our backs while trying to navigate spaces that were never built with us in mind. 

It is isolating at times—constantly feeling like you’re translating, adjusting, catching up. There is a quiet pressure that comes with knowing you are the first, and that your success feels like it carries more weight than just your own future.

I felt that pressure every time I stepped into a classroom filled with people whose parents were doctors, lawyers, professionals who could guide them through the process. I didn’t have that. 

What I did have, though, was the knowledge that unfamiliar things become familiar over time. My dog had shown me that firsthand. He taught me how to be patient with myself, how to lean into the discomfort of not knowing, and how to trust that I could figure things out along the way.

It is a lesson that grounded me when I questioned whether I belonged. When imposter syndrome crept in, when the workload felt endless, when the stakes felt impossibly high—I reminded myself that I had once been afraid of something as simple as bringing home a dog. Over time, I learned to love and care for him without hesitation. 

Law school, in many ways, was no different. The fear never completely disappears, but it no longer controls you.

Paving the Way Forward

His impact extended far beyond our family. 

After we adopted him, other families in our community began to feel more comfortable welcoming dogs into their homes. What once seemed unusual slowly became something others felt they could do too. That shift, small as it may seem, reminded me how much one decision, one act of bravery, can ripple outward.

Being a first-generation law student feels the same. 

It is not just about my own journey. It is about making the path clearer for others who will come after me. It is about showing my younger siblings and my community that we can belong in spaces where we have not traditionally been represented. 

Every time I take a step forward, I hope it becomes easier for the next person to take that step too.

The stars aligned for us once, all those years ago, when that little golden puppy became part of our family. I like to think they are still aligning now, in ways I may not fully see yet, guiding me forward.

He was the first of many.

So am I.