Responsibility

I am the oldest child and that means I have responsibilities I never signed up for. It means that I work hard in school and plan my schedule to make sure that my parents can take care of my brothers and sister. It means I work all summer long to support myself, so that money that could have gone to me can go to a sibling who needs it. Not to me. I can handle things on my own.

It means that cleaning the house on Sunday was more important than helping me with rental applications. It means that I will pay every single cent out of my own pocket—and that the one purchase you did help me make is held over my head time and time again.

It means that purchase—that lovely car that I absolutely could not afford on my own-- is treated as family property and is only viewed as “my car” when it is convenient. You took my car on Saturday without even telling me. Why? Why couldn’t you have just called and asked me?

Because what’s mine is yours even if I don’t want to give it. Because I have responsibilities. And those responsibilities are to the family and not to me.

Granted, these are things that I should be doing. It’s great that I’ll pay for school on my own, that I earn my own money, that I’m essentially self-supporting. Fine. Great. Thank you. But now let’s talk about the things that aren’t so great, the things that aren’t so fair or right.

I worked eight and a half hours today. Just as much as either of you. And then I drove home and you left. So I made dinner.  And I got the kids ready for bed, mediated their fights. I guess I’m sorry I didn’t have them in bed by eight-thirty, but since when have they EVER had a consistent bedtime? I had no idea when you were coming home. I figured it’d be worth it to see if you’d make it home in time to say goodnight to them.

Being the oldest means always thinking of how your actions affect the people around you. It means I’m the one who remembers birthdays and anniversaries and buys the gifts while signing the card from all of us. It means that I couldn’t go have a drink with my best friend tonight if I wanted to—I had to make sure it didn’t interfere with familial obligations. It means that I’m not allowed to be cranky for one goddamned second and snap at any sibling for fear of the impact it will have on them and their development. It means that I am allowed to be the second mother—until you disagree with me or notice the parental role I have.

And it’s fine. It’s all fine. They’re my brothers and sisters. And you’re my parents. I love you. And I do want to do everything I can to help you. All of you.

All I ask for in return is that you acknowledge that I play a huge, important role in this family. You spend next to no money on me because I support myself. I watch your children when you want me to. I pick babies up from daycare, go home early on snowdays, cook dinner when you’re not here, change(d) diapers, rocked babies until they fell asleep, read bedtime stories, make sure plans are set for holidays, arrange presents, live outside my fucking house, carpool, give up museums and restaurants, and so many more countless, little, daily things.

And tonight, because you didn’t tell me when your children should be in bed, I was ignored. Which is typical.

The thing about responsibility is, you’re not supposed to do them to earn thanks or acknowledgment. A responsibility is something you have to and should do. It can be defined as something “within one’s power to accomplish.” Responsibilities are only really noticed when they’re not accomplished. When someone doesn’t live up to them. They didn’t accomplish what was within their power.

And that generally works, because the other part of responsibility is that, 90% of the time, they’re something that individuals sign up for out of their own free will. You know how much you can take on, or you just simply know what you want to do. And so you shouldn’t expect thanks for that. If you can accomplish something, something you said you’d accomplish, it shouldn’t be necessary to be praised for that effort.

But what about the responsibility that you don’t sign up for? The responsibility that was heaved upon you because of the choices made by others. Heaved upon you without a second thought…  Choices that you had no say in. Your say wasn’t even considered. But that responsibility is there, and the same rules apply as if you’d willingly signed up for the obligations. Even though you didn’t.

I do a lot. And it’s even hard to admit that, to myself, because it’s been hammered into me, time and time again that “this is what I do. This is what I have to do.”

It’s my responsibility.

But I do so fucking much and it is not openly appreciated or even oftentimes acknowledged.

So where does that leave me? What do I do?

I know, I know. I do my responsibility.