I didn’t grow up planning to become a therapist. I grew up learning how to be THE steady one who was going to be a healer. Like many eldest daughters, I learned early how to read the room, anticipate needs, and hold things together. I learned how to be capable, responsible, and “fine.” I learned that asking for help felt like adding weight to people who already had enough.
So I stopped asking. That kind of self-sufficiency is often praised and overtime you learn to find pride in it. We’re called mature, strong, reliable.. the ones everyone can count on. What doesn’t get named is how that strength is often built through survival, not choice.
I knew the ache of being needed but not fully known. I knew how familiar it felt to carry things alone. And I knew how transformative it was the first time someone met me with curiosity instead of expectation.
Therapy became a place where I didn’t have to perform strength. Where I didn’t have to manage everyone else’s comfort. Where my needs didn’t make me a burden. Over time, not asking for help stops feeling like a habit and starts feeling like identity.
If you’re an eldest daughter who struggles to ask for help, I want you to know that you didn’t fail by becoming self-sufficient. You adapted, and now you’re allowed to adapt again. You’re allowed to rest without proving exhaustion, to need support without earning it, and to be held, not just relied upon. That learning is not weakness; for many of us, it’s the deepest healing there is.