“Why does she get to!?!” Was (and still is) my favorite question to come out of my younger brother’s mouth because I knew what answer was coming from my mother….

“Because she’s older.”

YES. SUCCESS! Boom! Take that little bro!

I come from a long line of first borns. Well at least both my parents were first borns. So naturally, I’m the favorite child... But being the oldest has its ups and downs. I am a firm believer in birth order and how one’s rank in the family can determine some of their biggest personality traits. As for me, I fall right into the mold of the eldest child.

I have Eldest Sibling Syndrome.

I am through and through a people pleaser, yes man, control freak, party pooper, and hall monitor. Now typically, firstborns come in two flavors: nurturing or aggressive. I withhold the more nurturing traits. Firstborns are reliable, cautious, controlling, and achieving. We can also be described as being more mature. Not saying that younger siblings are not mature, but the eldest strive from day one to please adults. So from a young age we act like mini-adults.

It was a normal daily thing to hear, “Blakelynn Ann, you are not his mother!” come from my own mother.

I wanted to correct my brother! Make him do the right things! I wanted to see him grow up like me! But that wasn’t my place. I didn’t need to “mother” him. So why did I feel the need?

My Eldest Sibling Syndrome. I basked in the glow of my parents. I wanted to steal their hearts and hold them hostage, making them feel like I was the most perfect child. Which I was, and still am of course.

But having these traits ingrained into your DNA can take a toll as a college student and adult.

I very much strive to be the best. And I wear myself out. A lot. I must do my best. I must please you. I cannot let anyone see my flaws. I put myself up to such high standards that are sometimes impossible to reach all because I want to achieve. I want the people around me to be proud of me. So when I make a mistake or even consider the idea of failure, I tear myself down and let self-condemnation get the best of me.

For example, I was put in detention once back in fifth grade because I forgot to get my weekly planner signed by a parent (I know, what a rebel). Did I tell my parents, ABSOLUTELY NOT! They may not have punished me if I had told them, but just the thought of them being disappointed with me, would have crushed me.

And speaking of disappointment, I only needed to hear the phrase “I’m disappointed in you” once. This one time happened on the car ride home after basketball practice in ninth grade. I burst into tears as the words rolled off my mother's tongue. I had disappointed her. I displeased her. I made her feel the opposite of proud. Just this one incident would insure that I would forever try my hardest to never hear a parent say the phrase again.

But having ESS is not all negative. Don’t get me wrong, I love being organized and seeing people be proud of me and my achievements, but I have also learned that I am compassionate and observant to people’s feelings. I have a maternal instinct that has blossomed at college earning me the nickname “Mom.” I am very hardworking and willing to do my best.

Having ESS may cause you to feel overwhelmed and crazy about things but you are also a thinker, a doer, and a leader. You were born to do great things and no one, not even your pesky younger siblings, could take that away from you.

So go get em, you ESS survivor!