Growing up, I was jealous of my friends who had siblings. I was bitter watching TV shows where the siblings of the show would argue, but would always have each other’s backs at the end of the day. While I wasn’t particularly upset with not having siblings, I always wished I could experience what it was like to have one.
Even after my friends would complain about how annoying it was to have an older or younger sibling, I yearned for that level of annoyance. To me, it felt like that sibling cares so much that I would be the first person they come to when they felt bored. There would always be someone there for you, yet I could never experience it.
To add salt to the wound, no one in my family was even remotely close to me in age. There was no one for me to relay my recess stories to, no one to connect with on the struggles of long division, no one to laugh with about random Youtube videos.
As time passed though, I learned to love my alone time and independence. It started ever since 1st grade when I realized that my parents sole responsibility wasn’t to play around with me 24 / 7. By this time, I had learned to play with toys by myself and act out scenes with me being director, actor, designer. This definitely helped as there were never any moments where I felt “truly alone” as all the moments that others would consider me being “lonely”, it was more my reality.
This led me to really appreciate the friendships and relationships I built at school as they were the closest things I had to siblings. I love my friends like they’re family to me because in a way, they’re my found family. The friendships I’ve maintained, especially from kindergarten all the way until now, are priceless to me. The amount of memories I’ve had with them fill the once empty void of not having siblings.
I also liked knowing I could rely on myself to deal with any situation that came my way. It also allowed me to pursue individual activities such as journaling and crafts. These individual activities became much more soothing and therapeutic in a way. It also allowed me to express my thoughts and feelings into physical media.
However, this level of hyper-independence comes at a price, as I’ve convinced myself that I can handle every situation thrown my way, when in reality, asking for help is completely normal. It has caused unhealthy coping mechanisms as being independent, for me, meant I kept all my problems to myself.
Other than that, to me, being an only child just means you have less family members. I don’t think the experience is particularly different, other than me having less stories to speak on. While sometimes I still crave a real sibling connection, I know I can live with myself being an only child.
