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There’s a certain mythic gravitas that comes with being the eldest daughter. Like you’ve got it together and have all the answers. You appear confident, composed, and yes, sometimes overachieving. But for some, behind that crown is a history of emotional labour, high expectations, and the silent struggle of holding everyone else’s weight.
The weight of being the eldest daughter can be heavy, and most of us never even asked to wear it in the first place. Allow me to introduce you to what TikTok has coined eldest daughter syndrome.
It’s not an official diagnosis, but according to hoards of eldest daughters on TikTok, it’s very real. It’s the ingrained sense of responsibility and people-pleasing, not to mention the way we hold everyone else up while folding our own feelings away in some mental drawer.
Many eldest daughters wear hyper-independence like a badge of honour — but often it’s just a coping mechanism with better PR.
A UCLA-led study found eldest daughters tend to mature earlier than their siblings, making them more likely to shoulder responsibilities they shouldn’t have to carry so young. For me, it started early. When my mum was diagnosed with early-onset dementia at 51, I was just 14. Overnight, I became the helper, the sounding board, and when my dad struggled under the weight of it all, I lost him in some ways too. There wasn’t time to fall apart. No space for teenage rebellion.
Later, I spent eight years single, doing all the hard things alone. With no partner to tag in, no family member to swoop in and save the day, I built a fortress of independence so strong that now, even with a loving partner, I find it hard to let him in. Asking for help feels unnatural, and it’s often easier to burn myself out than to admit I’m overwhelmed.
I know I’m not the only one. Eldest daughters are experts at staying composed — until we’re not.
My Self Help(ed) podcast co-host Maggie, an honorary eldest daughter in spirit, calls it the champagne bottle effect: you shake and shake and shake until pop! you’re everywhere. Messy, fizzy, impossible to contain. And apparently, Taylor Swift gets it too. On her upcoming album The Life of a Showgirl, there’s a track called “Eldest Daughter”, and though we don’t know the lyrics yet, eldest daughters across TikTok have lost their collective minds.
Because when someone like Taylor writes a song about your secret burden (as we hope this track may be about), it feels like permission to be seen. Like maybe it’s okay to admit you’re tired of being the strong one all the time.
“When someone like Taylor writes a song about your secret burden, it feels like permission to be seen.”
Psychologists note that eldest daughters often neglect their own boundaries, internalising guilt when they try to put themselves first. That’s the sting — while the competence, resilience, and independence we build can serve us in life and work, it often comes at the cost of our mental and emotional well-being.
The research backs it up. Studies show firstborn daughters are more likely to adopt a caretaker mindset, prioritising others’ needs and avoiding conflict. Over time, this can morph into perfectionism, people-pleasing, and an inability to ask for help. And while these traits are often praised in workplaces and relationships, they’re exhausting to sustain.
I’m not sure I’ll ever fully shake the eldest-daughter wiring. But I am learning that being capable doesn’t mean I have to carry everything alone. That letting someone else take care of me isn’t a weakness, it’s trust. And setting boundaries doesn’t mean I’m abandoning people; it means I’m protecting my energy so I can show up sustainably.
“Maybe the real sign of strength isn’t how much you can carry — it’s knowing when to put it down.”
To my fellow eldest daughters: you are not indispensable, even if your younger self had to believe you were. Asking for help isn’t failure, it’s visibility. You get to grow at your own pace, not the one your family clock set.
And maybe the real sign of strength isn’t how much you can carry, but rather, knowing when to put it down. Because sometimes, the strongest thing we can do is admit that being the strong one is exhausting.
The post The Hidden Burden Of Being The Eldest Daughter appeared first on ELLE.
