I’m a first child, with all the responsibilities, attitudes and whatnot that comes with.

I am responsible for my siblings, the one they look up to, the one who has to have all the answers, the one who has to push them to achieve, because if I can so can they.

I am the one they run to when it all hits the fan, the one who can clean the mess, frighten the boogie man and make it all better. They believe I can do it all.

The problem begins when I believe it too.

When I believe I’m Superwoman, and that my primary duty is to make it all go away. And then I torture myself with guilt when I fail them, and blame myself for their every mistake, disappointment or sadness. Where do I draw a line? Should there be a line? Where do my responsibilities stop and their need for to be independent begin? Just the thought of trying to draw a line provokes shame at being disloyal. I have no answers.

Or maybe I do.

Maybe I’ll stop trying so damn hard to be perfect, and a shining example. Maybe I’ll admit I don’t have the answers. Maybe I’ll let them solve their own problems. Maybe I’ll swallow my pride and finally realize that they don’t “need” me and that’s good. It’s like my mentor said, “If you’re indispensable, then there’s something wrong.”