While we've talked a lot about the loneliness of being an only child, having many siblings has its own downsides.
Equal footing
In our family, everyone lived in one big heap. Not just my four siblings and parents, but grandparents, uncles, aunts, tons of cousins, and more. There was always arguing, hurt feelings, and scheming, and I wanted to get along with everyone—basically, I wanted everyone to love me. But that’s just not how it works: there will always be favorites and clashing personalities, and that’s totally normal. Part of my therapy now is learning to accept that I don’t have to be equally close to every family member.
The individual
It’s tough to build your own identity in a big family. As soon as I could, I moved far away because I needed to find out who I am without them: what kind of person I am on my own, not defined by my family.
At the bottom of the food chain
Our family had a clear hierarchy. My oldest brother was the “boss,” my sister was the loudest, one younger brother was the sweetest, and the other younger brother and I were pushed to the background. That didn’t bother him, but it hurt me. Maybe I was the only one who didn’t accept my place, which caused a lot of dissatisfaction growing up. I recently talked about this with my brother—something my therapist suggested—and I learned he didn’t feel the hierarchy as sharply, or if he did, he saw himself as a “fair” leader. Not surprisingly, those at the top didn’t see a problem, but I felt small and forgotten, like my opinions and achievements didn’t really matter.
Transparent
I never had any secrets. I went to the same kindergarten and school as my siblings: if I got a bad grade in math, they knew by recess. We knew everything about each other. Even in high school, I once wrote a love letter to a boy, which my siblings found in my desk drawer and loudly mocked me for. I wish I’d had some privacy back then, because as an adult, I fiercely protect my private life and find it hard to open up.
Elsewhere
Since I saw early on that I wouldn’t get much recognition or attention in our crowded family, I expanded my horizons and looked for friends mostly at school. My fiancé always wanted siblings because he felt lonely growing up, and he’s surprised I barely keep in touch with mine. I’ve tried to explain that even surrounded by many people, you can feel alone, and like him, I rely more on my friends. My relationship with my siblings is pretty surface-level.
Roles
A younger sibling has to fit into roles that are already taken. In our family, the oldest sister was the smart overachiever, the oldest brother the successful athlete, another sister the artist (she played music), and my two twin brothers were the troublemaker and the clown. My little sister was the adorable cutie, and my younger brother was the sickly drama king who demanded a lot of attention. In this chaotic circus, I never got a real role, just a background part. But I was smart too—I became an engineer. I’m an athlete—I run marathons and snowboard. I’m an artist—I paint and have had exhibitions. I’m adventurous, funny, and sensitive, but all those roles were already taken in my family, so I remained an outsider. Therapy helped me stop blaming my parents and resenting anyone for this.
Self-sacrifice
In a big family, it’s hard to make choices that don’t follow the family’s expectations. As I grew up, I increasingly felt it was my duty to sacrifice myself for the family, putting their needs before my own. The expectations suffocated me, and at 30, I took a bold step: I moved abroad for work. Of course, I struggled with guilt and needed professional help to stop feeling like it was wrong to finally put myself first.
Invisible
I had a pretty turbulent family background, growing up with abusive parents alongside my siblings. We each coped differently: my brother was the troublemaker, constantly acting out and rebelling against our parents. My sister was the perfect student, trying to earn mom and dad’s approval. One younger brother was the clown, using jokes to distract us—and himself—from all the pain, while the other coped by sleeping constantly as a trauma response. I was the bookworm, the quiet kid so I wouldn’t cause trouble. It’s interesting that although we love each other, my siblings and I don’t keep in close contact, maybe because we’d be reminded of our childhood if we did.
Boundaries
In a large family, there’s supposedly a big safety net, but that also means boundaries are scarce. We lived together, everyone was involved in each other’s lives, and that wasn’t healthy—at least, I hated it. Four siblings shared one small room, and there wasn’t a single square meter that was just mine. As an adult, I still refuse to live with anyone, fiercely protecting my own little space.
Notice me!
There are eight of us siblings, and we had to fight hard for our parents’ attention. Even now, I’m desperate for everyone to notice me, as if I’m trying to get the attention I missed as a child. My therapist and I are working on helping me stop acting this way.
