Flaming Truths.

word to Monaleo

Ever since I was a little girl, I knew I was meant to be an adult. And before one of you narrow-minded asswipes says, “well duh, we’re all meant to be adults,” listen before you speak. I knew I was meant to be an adult then.

For as long as I can remember, adults have entrusted me with their secrets, bore their problems to me, and asked for my opinions in the form of advice. As I’ve gotten older, my role has only expanded and gotten heavier. I am bonus parent, emergency contact, confidant, mediator, counselor, playmate, disciplinarian, crying shoulder, teacher, chef, maid, black sheep, golden goose (I could go on, but I sense you catch my drift). All of my life, I have been an adult. I have proven myself nurturing, generous, understanding, logical, selfless, and sacrificial more times than any person should feel proud to. I have proven for over two-and-a-half decades that I am willing to bend to the will of every single person around me to be exactly what they need at the drop of a dime.

While adaptability is a strong suit that not every individual possesses, being too flexible, too adaptable, can be detrimental. When you consistently put the greater good of the group before that of the self, you ultimately completely deplete the self. You know that quote, “you can’t pour from an empty cup,” well, the world sees the eldest girl as a bottomless pitcher. The thing about pitchers is, they too require some kind of source to fill them….or they’re still going to end up empty. And an empty pitcher is a much bigger emptiness to feel than just a regular old empty cup. Recently I’ve reflected and realized that all I have ever done is pour into others. As I sit in the ruins of being the sacrificial lamb, and pick parts of myself up out of the rubble; I am forced to a conclusion. Something has got to give.

I was the first born everything of my family. Perpetually stuck in the middle. The children find solace and a sense a wonder within me that draws them in and makes them forget I’m still an adult; while adults see an ever-so-reliable scapegoat. Even on the dating scene, my ability to solve, transform and give until I am empty is exploited and abused. The entire world is consistently laid in the palms of my hands because everybody just knows they can trust me with it. Do you know how exhausting that is?

Many, many moons ago, I decided I didn’t want children. When asked why, I’ll say it’s because “I don’t like kids,” or other witty jabs at them; but honestly, I don’t think it’d be fair to give my children the scraps of whatever everyone else decides to leave of me. I also just don’t want to be responsible for anyone else. Not in the sense of selfishness, but in the sense that I’m already responsible for everyone else. I’ve mothered so many other people, including my own mother; the act itself isn’t the problem. I mean, I’ve essentially been trained for it, and I’m damn good at it (dare you to ask anyone). It’s the intent behind it. I want to be able to approach the family that I make with an abundance of untainted love, not just obligation.

I just want better.

Better than I have been shown. Better than I have been given. Better than I have accepted. Better than I can even dream of.

And I won’t stop or settle until I get it.

An eldest girl deserves at least that, right?

talk soon.