Being the first daughter is one of those things that you’re never really ready for. The constant pressure to be everything for everyone, the ‘disappointment’ when you’re unable to be those things, even once, the need to make everybody happy while dealing with your stuff. I was suicidal at some point this year and no one in my family knew. My friends got me through that and ever since, I promised myself I’d live, even if that meant not showing up for my family when it would be a burden to me. My mom has been on about how much I’ve changed and how unhelpful I’ve been this period. I feel some guilt but I know I’m better off putting me first, for my sanity.