Let’s start by clarifying that I am the oldest daughter of three girls. To all my oldest children out there, I know you’ll feel me when I say it is an experience not many people can say they relate to. I grew up to be very Type A, competitive, academically focused, independent and responsible, especially concerning my little sisters. Despite the unique set of struggles that come with being the oldest child or daughter, my relationship with my parents was never memorably difficult until middle school. Right before I started sixth grade, my parents decided to move from a small town in Pennsylvania to South Florida. This started a completely new stage in all our lives and a drastic change in my relationship with my parents. I was never really the kid that talked back or had attitude problems (that role was easily filled by my middle sister), but I started to do these things to my parents. To a degree, this is normal behavior of a hormonal middle schooler, especially one who just had a major life change. Still, there were other factors at play that amplified the cracks forming in our relationship.
Around seventh grade, I started to struggle mentally and physically. I tried to hide how much these disorders affected me, especially knowing how genetically predisposed I was because of my extended family history. I wanted to maintain my image both within my family and socially. I didn’t know how much I wanted and needed my parents’ help, but I unfairly blamed them for not seeing it on their own. I grew private and secretive with my parents, essentially shutting them out of my life and at the same time resenting them for letting me do this. I don’t blame myself for the toxicity that grew between us. There were definitely many occurrences on their side that continued to push us apart, but I didn’t make it any easier on myself or them. As I grew up throughout middle school, my struggles got much worse, which continued to separate us as I got more reckless with my words. I can honestly say that although I may have reasons for saying the things I did, I owe my parents a huge apology for that time in our lives. We were not thriving, and I think a lot of it had to do with my own demons and struggles connected to our relationship. Eventually, I got the help I needed and saw them make an effort in that direction as well, and I saw the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak.
I started to make more effort to foster my relationship with my parents both as a unit and individually right before I went to college. I knew I wasn’t going to stay anywhere close to home, and I also knew I wasn’t going to be coming home a lot while at school, so I didn’t want to leave on a bad note. Things definitely improved that summer, but the true solution to a great relationship with my parents was leaving for college. The distance college provided, the independence and the experiences helped me forgive and recognize why we all had such a rocky relationship for so long. I could talk to them about things I was learning, people I was meeting and just college in general. My parents always encouraged my independence to a degree and college was that diving board. I was able to eventually come out to them, work on myself physically and mentally without their oversight and spend my time the way I wanted while working on our long-distance relationship. I never thought I’d be the girl to call home every week or even come home for holidays, but I found myself calling them almost every day when walking to class and surprising them on weekends when my friends could drive me home.
If you’re reading this as a student, I urge you to reach out to your parents or get the help you need to be able to do so. If you’re my parents reading this, I love you!
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