I Was The First But I Always Put Myself Last

There have been many times when I have been the first in the room, blazing a trail, breaking ground, and setting precedents and yet, for years, I quietly put myself last in my own life. It’s an odd paradox being celebrated for leading while simultaneously denying your own needs, pretending that exhaustion is a badge of honour and that rest is a luxury you cannot afford.

Being the first comes with pride, yes, but it also carries a weight that rarely gets named. It is heavy in ways that go beyond recognition or achievement. You navigate systems your family may never have had access to. You learn rules that no one at home could have prepared you for. You carry the unspoken understanding that your progress is not yours alone, that each success is entwined with the hopes, expectations, and sacrifices of those who came before you. For me, this has been the lived reality of being a first-born daughter in a British Nigerian household in Hackney, East London.

Being "the first" represented hope and possibility, but it was also a responsibility that shaped me from a young age. I became the reliable one, the strong one, the person who absorbed pressure without complaint. I became the trustworthy, consistent presence in a world that demanded proof of competence at every turn. In those years, I told myself that rest could wait. My own needs became negotiable. I believed that perseverance was enough and that strength was measured by how little I faltered under weight. Many people call this resilience, but sometimes it is something simpler and sharper: survival disguised as strength, a relentless drive to succeed that leaves no room for pause, for true rest, for actual relaxation.

For a long time, I measured my value by how much I could carry without anything falling apart. Achievement became my reward, a confirmation that exhaustion was acceptable, even admirable. And yet, that exhaustion never felt temporary, it actually became normal and even though it was invisible it became the quiet rhythm of my life, a background hum that went largely unquestioned.

What I am learning now is that putting myself first does not betray where I come from. It is not a rejection of my roots, my family or even my culture. It is a protection of the very things that allow me to keep going, the foundation that allows me to continue being strong without losing myself in the process. I can honour my family while still acknowledging my limitations. I can celebrate being the first while also deciding that I will not come last in my own story. The two are not opposites they are complementary.

If you are carrying the weight of being the first too, know this: you do not have to break yourself to prove your worth. You are allowed to breathe. You are allowed to pause. You are allowed to set down some of the burdens you have carried silently for so long. Putting yourself first is not weakness; it is strategy. It is sustainability. It is the most radical act of care you can offer yourself in a world that rarely teaches you that your own wellbeing matters as much as anyone else’s.

So breathe. Deeply. Fully. And know that it is not only okay but necessary to put yourself first wherever you are on this journey called life. You are worthy, and your story deserves to be lived on your terms not at the expense of your body, your mind, your soul or your heart.