Being the First Daughter Is Ruining My Relationship

Tochi is 27, in love, and exhausted. Not because of her partner, but because she’s the first daughter in a Nigerian family. And that role? It doesn’t end when you grow up.

It follows you into your relationship, your career, and your peace of mind. In this interview, she shares how being “the strong one” is slowly pushing love out of her life.

So, tell us. What does being the first daughter mean to you?It means you don’t get to be a child for too long. You grow up early. You become everyone’s helper, everyone’s strength. Even when you’re tired, you show up.

I was the one my parents left my siblings with. I was the one who remembered birthdays, packed bags for school, settled fights. Nobody ever sat me down and said “This is your role”—but” it was just expected.

Now I’m older, working, and living in Lagos, but I still feel like I’m parenting everybody. And it’s not cute anymore — it’s draining.

Has that affected how you show up in your relationship?Completely. My boyfriend says I don’t open up. That I’m always ‘handling’ things instead of letting him in. The truth is, I’ve been the strong one for so long, I don’t even know what softness looks like.

When I’m overwhelmed, I retreat. I don’t want to cry or break down because I’m scared it’ll make me look weak. But that same thing ends up creating distance between us. He wants me to be vulnerable, but my default setting is “I’ve got it.”

What kind of things cause the most friction?Whew. So many. Like when I cancel plans because my mum needs me to send money. Or when I’m mentally checked out because I’ve been solving my sister’s school drama all week.

He’ll say things like, “I feel like I come last,” and I get it. But I don’t know how to explain that I’ve always had to carry people. It’s wired into me.

He wants a girlfriend. I’m out here playing elder sister, daughter, emergency contact, and therapist — all before I show up as a partner.

Have you tried setting boundaries?I’ve tried. But boundaries feel like betrayal sometimes. When my mum calls crying or my dad drops another bill on me, saying “no” feels like I’m letting the whole family collapse.

And when I do try to rest or enjoy a date, I’m thinking about what’s happening at home. There’s always something.

My boyfriend once asked me, “When do you ever just breathe?” and I couldn’t answer. I didn’t even know what breathing felt like anymore.

Do you ever feel resentful?Honestly? Yes. Sometimes I do. Not because I don’t love my family — I do, deeply — but because I feel robbed. Robbed of my own space, my own softness, my own joy.

And when I see girls who just get to be loved, who don’t have to hold everything together, I envy them. Because I don’t know what that life feels like.

What would you say to anyone dating a first daughter?Love her gently. She’s not cold — she’s just tired. She’s had to be strong for so long that asking for help feels foreign.

She may not always know how to express her needs because she’s spent most of her life ignoring them.

She’s not hard to love. She’s just unlearning how to survive.

And to other first daughters reading this?You don’t owe the world your exhaustion. You deserve joy that isn’t tied to sacrifice. You deserve to be held too. And if your relationship — or family — can’t see that?

You’re allowed to put yourself first for once. That doesn’t make you selfish. It makes you human.