By: Resmiel Irish Matre
Copyedited by Stacie Catallo
Publication: Ysabel Tagon and Yelena Fabricante

Whenever we meet new people, one question that they would ask as a way to get to know you is “In what birth order do you fall in?” I am the eldest daughter. So whenever I say that to people I’ve just met, they would often say “Ah, so you’re stubborn.”, “Ah so you don’t take others’ opinions?”, “Ahh perfectionist ‘to.”.

People often profile you depending on your birth order. Alfred Adler actually introduced the Birth Order Theory. It states that your birth order dictates a part of your personality.

I was 8 years old when I became an older sister. I was supposed to still be playing with dolls, games, princess tea parties. However, while fantasizing about being a princess wearing a plastic tiara in my castle in the hills, I received a crown.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” a quote rephrased from Shakespeare’s Henry IV.

The crown we hold is not one of royalties but of service, duty, and sacrifice. Being the eldest daughter meant you had to prioritize everybody else before yourself.

You’re the second parent. You’re expected to teach your younger sibling everything you know. Once your sibling cannot handle something, you’re expected to do it for them. Once they get in trouble, you also get in trouble as if their mistakes are a reflection of our guidance. You have to solve problems that should be handled by an adult. You already know how government processes work.

Overwhelming, isn’t it? It’s a heavy load to carry and the expectations are endless. As the eldest, mediocre is not good enough, you have to set the standard. You also have to step into the role of being a mediator. Sibling arguments, parental conflicts, you’re expected to be calmer than everybody else in the room. And complaining is NOT an option.

The pressure to be perfect, to care for everyone around you, to meet standards set by the people around you. It can have an emotional toll on yourself. You know to yourself that there’s no use of expressing yourself, because there’s always someone who seems to need you more. As the eldest, you must wear a mask of capability. Moments of exhaustion and being utterly overwhelmed are locked away because you’re too busy holding everything together that you don’t have the time to let yourself fall apart.

But though the crown is heavy, it is also forged in fire. Despite the trials and hardships, I have developed strength and character. The unique pressures can make you fall apart however it can also build an incredible amount of resilience and strength. As time goes by, you learn how to navigate situations, be independent and handle multiple roles at once.

Yet, even with these strengths, it is important to remember that no crown should ever weigh so heavily that it consumes you. It’s not about giving up your responsibilities but rather creating balance, setting boundaries and making sure that your needs are tended to.

For years, I thought that wearing the crown meant that I had to be perfect, that my worth had to be tied to how well I would tend to others’ needs. But as time passed, I realized that it didn’t have to be that way. Everyday I learn how to wear my crown without letting it wear me down. But now I understand that I deserve to reign my life as well. I am more than just an eldest daughter. So, to all of us who bear the weight of the crown, remember that while we lead others, we must also lead ourselves to a life that would fulfill us, too.

Editor’s Note: This piece is part of a performance task for the Oral Communication class of Mr. Mark Reniel Balolo, where students were tasked with creating their own TED Talk.