As Told By Ada: I Waited 24 Years For My Life To Begin

As Told By Ada is a Culture Custodian weekly series exploring the unique and often chaotic experience of navigating life as the oldest daughter in a Nigerian household. Over the course of these mini therapy sessions, we give you a peek into the ups, downs and lingering effects of growing up “the first.”

I was always wanting. That was my childhood.

It was constantly just like, okay, so I can’t do this and I can’t do that, because my parents said so. At the time, it was easy to convince myself that it was my decision as well. I read the newspapers and it was true that the country was dangerous, people were stealing, there were kidnappers… all valid concerns, but the extent to which I wasn’t really living a life was an obvious problem.

I’m 24 years old, and I’m the oldest of three children. My immediate younger sister is three years younger, and our second sister is ten years younger than I am.

My position came with a lot of expectations, even if nobody explicitly called them that. Looking back now, I think a lot of my anxiety, my relationship with money, and even the way I move through the world comes from the fact that I always felt responsible for things that were much bigger than me.

My sisters have a lot more freedom to just be. The stakes for them have never been as high. I’m basically the family flagbearer.

My childhood was just … really lonely.

When I was younger, I was obsessed with British historical fiction and period pieces. Romance aside, those books make it very clear that the people you interact with growing up will probably remain in your life in some way forever. 

I used to worry about that. I was convinced I wouldn’t have any stories.

At first it was silly things. I would think, “Oh my gosh, there’s no romance for me. If I don’t have crushes now, who’s going to call me when I’m 30 and say, ‘Wow, I haven’t seen you in 15 years. I love you and I want to marry you?'”

Then, by the time I was sixteen, my worries became more practical. I started thinking, wait a minute, who is going to hire me because we’ve known each other since we were young? Where is my connect?

It felt like everybody else had these lifelong relationships. Their parents were friends, their families had annual gatherings, and somehow everyone already belonged to a community. 

I’m grateful that I’ve put in enough effort to build those relationships for myself now rather than later because I think it only gets harder as you grow older. People simply don’t have the same time or energy to build new friendships.

I went to university in Canada because I was looking for citizenship. Honestly, I feel like my entire educational life was about citizenship. The plan was always: I need to leave this country. Whether or not my parents intended it to sound this way, the message I received was that citizenship for me meant citizenship for all of us.

That pressure sat heavily on me. I already wasn’t having a great time in Canada, and then COVID hit during the second semester of my first year. I was really struggling mentally. I tried for four years, but it became too much. Eventually I decided to drop out. I didn’t know what my next steps were, but I knew I needed to leave because the level of anxiety I was living under had become unbearable.

Around that same time, my mom was going through her separation from my dad.

Because I’m her oldest child, she became very worried about what people would say concerning her parenting skills if I dropped out. Again, the stakes were different for me. My sisters had more space to figure things out. I was the one carrying the symbolic weight of success. 

So she convinced me to transfer to my sister’s university in the UK. But what I needed—and what I knew I had needed for some time—was a break. A gap year. A gap semester. Anything. I just needed time to get myself out of the terrible mental space I was in.

Instead, I said yes and moved to Leicester. Big mistake. I got there and it was worse than Canada. 

I was so isolated. My sister genuinely tried to be friendly, but I cannot maintain a great relationship with her when we’re living in the same city. I hated it. I didn’t do well. What made it worse was that I had done it to myself. My mom suggested it. I knew I didn’t want it, and I still agreed.

I’ve always struggled to override decisions my mom makes concerning my life because I’m painfully aware of the fact that she funds everything. It’s her money, not mine. Part of the reason I struggled so much in university but refused to change my degree when I should have was because I didn’t want to waste my mother’s money.

I knew people who could barely afford a semester. That wasn’t necessarily our reality, but my mom’s financial situation was precarious. My dad barely contributed financially, so she carried the tuition of three children almost entirely by herself.

I was already stressed out by our finances, and then, while I was in university, my mom casually informed me that she had just completed treatment for cancer. We didn’t even know she had cancer.

That kind of thing does something to your brain.

I was always worried. Always overthinking. Always uncertain about the future. I felt like I had no control over anything. I was stressed, sad and lonely. Partly because I had been sheltered and didn’t know anyone with the same experiences. I felt like I couldn’t talk about them. My sister probably would have been the best confidant, but we aren’t very close.

There was just way too much going on and being in that kind of headspace, there was no way I could have done well in school. It didn’t help that I felt like I could only rely on one parent. 

My relationship with my dad is very strained. Even before the separation, I didn’t particularly like him. Afterwards, it got worse. Ironically, my mom was very insistent on encouraging me to maintain a relationship with him. At one point, she even staged what felt like an intervention. She invited some of his friends over and asked me to sit with them and discuss my issues with him.

To this day, I don’t know what she expected to happen.

Now that enough time has passed, she has finally admitted that my dad wasn’t the greatest guy, and I’m just like, “Oh, so now you know?” 

That’s a recurring issue between us. I’ll notice something, tell her what I’ve noticed, and then spend years trying to convince her before she eventually arrives at the same conclusion. It’s frustrating because I spent so much time feeling like nobody was on my side.

Even the fact that my parents are separated rather than divorced is something I’ve actively campaigned against. My mom’s response is usually, “You’re so negative and jaded.” But why wouldn’t I be jaded? Look around, for goodness’ sake!

The issues I have with sex and sexuality, balancing work and play, money, and even interacting with people are all connected to the example I had growing up. As the oldest, I was influenced by my parents’ marriage more than anyone else. I witnessed a lot. I used to be really trusting, but now it feels like the scales have fallen from my eyes.

There are so many things to consider before making even the smallest decision, that for a while it stopped me from living. From making any decisions at all. 

I remember this time in secondary school, there was an excursion. I told my teacher I couldn’t go because we couldn’t afford it. She looked at me and asked, “Why are you always acting like you don’t have money?”

Honestly, I hated asking my parents for money because I knew things weren’t easy. There was a period when both of my parents were unemployed and I was convinced we were going to end up homeless. I became very aware that existing was expensive.

And it stressed me out. A lot.

I know people say you’re not supposed to tell children everything, but children are listening regardless. They watch, they hear things and the least parents can do is make sure they are properly informed. The information I received growing up was often incomplete or biased, and coupled with my already anxious personality, it kind of created a monster.

I’ve been in and out of therapy, but honestly, I don’t think I need to spend the rest of my life talking about my feelings. I need to get out of my head, go outside and actually do things. That’s where I am right now.

The way my life looks these days … well, we’re supposed to say “Thank God,” so thank God. There have been struggles, but we’re getting somewhere. I’ve been very optimistic these past few months. I think I’ve finally woken up. For years, it felt like I was asleep because genuinely, everything was depressing.

Now I’m trying things. I’m trying to think less and do more. I’m trying to let go of what some people have called an “unhealthy obsession with money” and just experience life. 

I’ve reached an age where it’s easy to feel like I should have accomplished more by now. But I’m trying to be kinder to myself and more accepting of where I am, considering my own journey. Right now, I’m focused on gaining experience as a human being. I’ve seen how I’ve changed over the last year, mostly for the better.

So yeah, I’m hopeful. That’s probably the best way to put it. I’m leaving the horrors behind.

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