That eldest daughter energy

When I first heard the lyrics to this song, I felt something inside me exhale. For me, it felt like a love letter to her inner child.

Because isn’t that what so many of us — especially high-achieving women, eldest daughters, and recovering perfectionists — have been quietly feeling? The urge to recommit to ourselves. To stop self -bandoning and pretending to be “unbothered” when underneath we feel deeply. To stop performing who we think we need to be for a sense of safety that can only come from self-love and authenticity. So that we can heal the wounded inner child, not just for ourselves—but for our own children and the future generations.

We’ve built a culture that worships performance over presence and toxic masculine energy masked as strength. For so long we’ve glorified hustle culture — being “boss b*tches”, “bad b*tches” and “unbothered” babes— “savage” is cool, and if you’re soft, you’re a “fool”.

We run through like, chasing that carrot— glued to work and our screens, and even our friends hardly see our faces.

We became hyperindependent so we only needed to rely on ourselves—but underneath what we really wanted is what we never had: someone to depend on. The only problem is we became that for everyone else, and once again deprioritized ourselves. What we pretend is confidence, most days, it’s a carefully curated armor. Underneath it, there’s exhaustion. The kind that doesn’t show up on our faces, but lives in our psyche and our bodies, creating anxiety, illness and a feeling of being lost in life, or completely disconnected.

We’re tired of pretending we don’t care—emotionally numbing for self-protection and survival. Tired of curating a façade of perfection and composure that keeps people at a distance when what we’re really craving is genuine connection. Tired of the endless ladder-climbing, only to look over and realize it’s leaning up against the wrong wall.

Because the truth is — we care deeply.
We always have.
That’s the heart of the eldest daughter archetype — the caretaker, the overfunctioner, the emotional anchor, the one who holds everything and everyone together.

We were the first to break the silence, the first to hold responsibility, the first to learn that our safety depended on compliance, because the world was made with rules were never made to suppress us, not support us.
And now, we’re the first to feel the ache of how unnatural that’s become. And to realize that it CAN be different. We no longer have to buy the lies they’re selling.

We’re realizing that we don’t want to be “unbothered.”
We want to be alive.
We want to feel again — to laugh, to rest, to be seen in our softness. To heal ourselves—to heal generational trauma. To break our silence and break the mold of what has been in order to create something that feels more true.

We want simplicity, innocence, and a return to creating a life that feels like love instead of fear.

Love for ourselves.
Love for each other.
Love for the world we’re part of.

We’re not trying to climb anymore.
We’re trying to come home.

Home to our bodies.
Home to our hearts.
Home to the versions of ourselves we left behind when we decided that being “too much” or “not enough” was unsafe.

So maybe this is the quiet revolution of the eldest daughters:
We’re trading performance for presence.
We’re reclaiming our softness as strength.
And we’re remembering that the most radical thing we can do in a world obsessed with being unbothered —
is to care deeply.