Dear Firstborn Daughter, Ensure You Are Not Watering a Fake Plant

There is a saying that when people throw you to the wolves, you can come back leading the pack. I think about that sometimes when I reflect on certain seasons of my life. There were moments when I was left to navigate some very difficult experiences without the protection, compassion or support I needed from people who were supposed to care about me. I had to find my way through those experiences, make sense of what happened, rebuild my confidence and learn how to protect myself.

And somewhere along the way, I changed.

Not into someone who hates people or assumes the worst of everyone, but into someone who pays attention. Someone who understands that affection is not the same as accountability, familiarity is not the same as safety, and history cannot simply be erased because someone has decided to become affectionate again.

Lately, I've been reflecting on the relationships in my life. I've noticed people becoming more affectionate, reaching out more frequently, using familiar terms of endearment and expressing an interest in reconnecting. Some of this attention is lovely, and I don't want to dismiss genuine affection. But it has also made me think about how we evaluate relationships, particularly when there is history involved.

You see, I don't think we should evaluate people exclusively based on how they are treating us today. Sometimes, we need to look at the entire relationship. We need to remember how people behaved when we were vulnerable, what happened when we needed them, and whether their present behaviour is consistent with the relationship they are trying to establish.

Because one of the things I have learned is that you can spend years watering a relationship that isn't what you think it is. You can be emotionally invested in something that the other person understands very differently. And sometimes, you can be the last person to realize that the relationship you've been nurturing isn't growing.

Dear Firstborn Daughter, let's talk about it.

1. Stop evaluating relationships exclusively on what people tell you today.

Someone can call you baby girl, tell you they miss you, check on you regularly and express how much they value having you in their life. Those things can be lovely, but they are not the entire story.

You have to consider the history. How did this person treat you before the affection returned? What happened when you were struggling? Have they acknowledged anything that happened between you, or are they simply behaving as though the past never existed? We have all been in a situation where someone has reached out casually, trying to act normal when they owe you an apology. The`quiet implication is that time passing is the apology.

You don't have to reject someone's present kindness, but you also don't have to develop amnesia because someone has become nicer.

2. Pay attention to how people respond when you're vulnerable.

One of the most important things you can learn about a relationship is how someone handles your vulnerability.

When you shared something painful, did they respond with compassion? Did they treat your misfortune with the urgency it required, or respond at their convenience? Did they make you feel safe enough to be honest? Or did your experiences become gossip, entertainment, an opportunity for comparison or something they could use against you later?

There is a difference between someone knowing your struggles and someone being emotionally safe with your struggles. Not everyone who knows your story has earned the privilege of holding it.

3. Remember how people treated you during your difficult seasons.

It's easy to appreciate people when life is going well. But what happened when you were going through a difficult season?

Think about the people who made you feel inadequate when you were already struggling. Think about those who compared their blessings to your circumstances, dismissed your pain or made you feel less worthy because you hadn't achieved certain milestones.

For example, there was a season when I was struggling with childlessness after trying to conceive for years. Having someone repeatedly remind me how easily they had conceived was painful. I wasn't jealous of their experience. I was hurting because of my own.

And there were people who made me feel as though not having a child meant I couldn't be trusted around children. Experiences like these leave an impression.

You don't have to hold on to resentment, but you should be allowed to remember what an experience taught you. A difficult season can reveal things about a relationship that comfortable seasons never will.

4. Stop allowing the expectation to be the bigger person to override your judgment.

Firstborn daughters are often taught to preserve relationships, maintain family ties, forgive quickly and make peace even when they are the ones who have been hurt.

You are encouraged to be understanding, mature, accommodating and forgiving. Sometimes, this expectation becomes so deeply ingrained that you start treating your own discomfort as an inconvenience.

You convince yourself that you should move on because the conflict is over. You minimise what happened because you don't want to appear difficult. You resume relationships without addressing the experiences that changed how you feel about the people involved.

But being the bigger person doesn't mean pretending that something didn't happen. You can choose peace without pretending that trust has been restored. You can forgive someone and still acknowledge that the relationship is no longer what it used to be.

5. Accept that someone may not care about you as deeply as you care about them.

This is an uncomfortable realization, especially when you're a firstborn daughter who has spent much of her life being responsible for other people's well-being.

You may be the person who remembers birthdays, checks in, notices when something is wrong, offers support and makes an effort to maintain relationships. Naturally, you may expect other people to approach relationships with the same level of consideration.

But not everyone will.

Some people enjoy your company without feeling deeply connected to you. Some appreciate what you bring into their lives without necessarily being interested in your inner world. Others may simply have a different understanding of the relationship.

You don't have to force everyone to care about you. But you do need to recognize when you're investing emotionally in a relationship that isn't being experienced in the same way by the other person.

6. Not every relationship needs to be deep, but you should understand what kind of relationship you're in.

I don't believe every relationship has to be intimate, emotionally fulfilling or built around unconditional love.

Some relationships are casual. Some are based on shared interests. Some are professional. Some are mutually beneficial, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that when both people understand the arrangement.

The problem begins when you believe you're building a genuine emotional connection while the other person is approaching the relationship primarily for what they can gain from you.

You don't need to turn every acquaintance into a confidant. You don't need to expect friendship from everyone who is friendly. And you certainly don't need to give everyone access to your personal life.

Understanding the nature of a relationship helps you manage your expectations and decide how much of yourself you want to invest in it.

7. Love bombing is real, but affection alone isn't evidence of change.

Sometimes, people become unusually affectionate when they want to regain access to you. They may suddenly become attentive, call frequently, use endearing names or express how much they have missed you.

But renewed affection doesn't automatically mean someone is love bombing you. People can genuinely change. They can reflect on their behaviour, mature and develop a different appreciation for a relationship.

The important thing is to observe what accompanies the affection.

Has there been accountability? Can they acknowledge the past without becoming defensive? Do they respect your boundaries? Are they consistent even when you aren't giving them what they want?

Don't confuse a sudden increase in attention with evidence that a relationship has become healthier. Let people's behaviour over time tell you more than their words in the moment.

8. Evaluating someone's behaviour doesn't mean you are paranoid. It means you're participating in your relationships consciously.

Firstborn daughters can spend so much time examining their own behaviour that they forget to examine the behaviour of the people around them.

You question whether you were too sensitive, too demanding, too distant or too difficult. You replay conversations and scrutinise your reactions. Meanwhile, you may give other people endless opportunities to explain away behaviour that repeatedly hurts you.

Of course, you should examine yourself. You should be willing to acknowledge when you've misunderstood someone, communicated poorly or contributed to a difficult situation.

But accountability cannot be a one-sided exercise.

You are allowed to notice patterns. You are allowed to ask questions. You are allowed to consider whether someone's behaviour is consistent with the relationship they claim to want.

Just remember that one missed call, one awkward conversation or one disappointing interaction doesn't automatically reveal someone's intentions. Look at the wider pattern, the context and how the person responds when concerns are raised.

Discernment requires honesty, including honesty about your own assumptions.

9. You don't have to wait for someone to destroy your life before reconsidering their access to you.

Sometimes, we think we need another major incident before we are justified in changing or rejecting a relationship.

We wait for another betrayal, another humiliating experience, another painful conversation or another moment that makes it impossible to ignore what we've been noticing.

But you are allowed to make decisions before things become catastrophic.

You can decide that a relationship no longer feels emotionally safe. You can reduce how much you share. You can stop making yourself constantly available. You can choose to keep a relationship cordial without allowing it to become intimate.

And as a mother, I think about this differently now. I have a responsibility to consider the environment I'm creating around my family and the people I allow close to our lives.

Closeness is not proof of safety. Familiarity is not proof of good intentions. You can be respectful and kind while still being intentional about access.

10. Remain genuine, but stop being committed to relationships that require you to abandon your judgment.

The goal isn't to become suspicious of everybody. It isn't to punish people for their past mistakes or assume that nobody can change.

You should remain open to genuine relationships. You should allow people the opportunity to demonstrate growth. You should also be willing to acknowledge when you have been wrong about someone.

But don't become so committed to being a loving, forgiving and understanding person that you stop paying attention to what is happening around you.

You can welcome someone without immediately restoring the relationship to its former level of intimacy. You can appreciate someone's affection without interpreting it as proof of trustworthiness. And you can allow a relationship to develop at a pace that gives you enough time to understand what you're actually building.

Sometimes, the kindest thing you can do for yourself is to stop investing in the potential of a relationship and start looking honestly at its reality.

A little reflection as I approach 35...

As I approach my 35th birthday in December, I have to say that I'm genuinely proud of myself. In fact, I could kiss myself if I could.

I think I've become the kind, wise elder I needed when I was growing up. I see it in the way I think, the way I communicate and the way I move through life. I'm more introspective. I hold myself accountable, and I expect accountability from others, but I've also learned not to be unnecessarily brutal with myself.

I'm not as easily triggered into anxiety and depression as I used to be. Not because I no longer experience hurt and disappointment, but because I have a much better understanding of myself, my intentions and the things I am responsible for. I'm confident that I will survive any more bad days I will experience because I know I'm not entitled to a life free from suffering but I can make the most of it.

There was a time when 35 felt dangerously close to 70, and I would panic whenever I thought about getting older. Today, I'm actually looking forward to it. I like the emotional intelligence I've developed. I like the woman I'm becoming.

For years, I was so occupied with surviving difficult experiences, navigating manipulation, dealing with financial struggles and trying to make sense of the way certain people treated me that I didn't always stop to appreciate how far I had come. I didn't notice how much respect I had earned, how much I had grown or that people, both old and new, were interested in being part of my life.

And when I think about the woman I was five years ago, or even twenty years ago, I know she would be proud of me.

But most importantly, I'm proud of myself.

I'm learning to welcome people without assuming everyone deserves the same place in my life. I'm learning that I can be warm without being indiscriminate, forgiving without being forgetful and loving without abandoning my judgment.

And that, to me, is growth.