In my family, I’m the youngest, the oldest, the middle and the favorite. Growing up, my friends and their parents either pitied me or were jealous of me. I didn’t have to share a room, toys, my allowance or my parents' attention. My mom and dad only had one thing to keep track of: me.
My friends had built in playmates while I roamed around our cavernous house, a lone soul with no counterpart to balance me. I pitied myself in much of the same way I knew most adults pitied me and felt bad that my parents bereaved me of that treasured playmate, the second child many families admit they have so their first doesn’t have to grow up alone. The message snaking its way through society as I was growing up was that there is something innately wrong with only children; we were cursed with loneliness and precociousness and there was no way to get rid of it.
The stereotype of the only child: lonely, selfish and maladjusted. Ever since I was aware of this at a fairly young age, I worked to defy the stereotype. I was incredibly socialized, some of my teachers argued I was too social. If I wanted a new toy, I had to buy it with the money I earned through my allowance, much like my peers who had siblings. Often times I reveled in my aloneness, creating close relationships with my parents at a young age and learning to be a good companion to myself. I lived in a blissful ignorance until I was so rudely reminded that there was something unusual about the numbers in my family. As a child, I saw the difference in my family as something bad.
As I grew older, I began to cherish the gift of being an only child. The bliss of solitude began to overshadow the ache of loneliness. I realized all the things I liked the most about myself were side effects of growing up solo. I’m not afraid to go to restaurants alone and develop a strong relationship with myself. I never had a sibling to rely on or pass the blame onto. I can stand on my own and take responsibility for my actions. I appreciate my parents in a way that I’m not sure I would if I had a family companion my own age. I learned how to blend in with adults at a young age and value their company and conversation more than I think most of my peers with siblings do.
My role as an only child has helped shape my identity in more ways than one. I am proud to bear the label and I no longer cringe when people tell me how they feel bad for me and they could never live a life without their siblings. As I grow older and become more self aware, I continue trying to defy only children stereotypes. The joy of being one has become a blessing to me that I wouldn’t trade for the world.
