The Guinea Pig’s Lament
It’s hard to come first. Not due to the uncertainty of life’s trials but rather because of how strange it feels to watch others follow. I watched my sister graduate from college this weekend and wondered, has it really been two years since I did the same? When you come first, you can mark the passing of time with others reaching the milestones you already have, and that can be hard.
Those who know me well understand how much I dislike growing up. Being first to take college tests, tour colleges, apply to internships and jobs, go to college, graduate college, move away from home—this all makes it both sad and bizarre when I watch my sisters take the same steps in their own ways. I long to be back there in their places, despite the difficulties these steps present.
When my sister graduated this weekend, it marked two years since I walked across my own stage. When my other sister finished her freshman year of college, it marked five years since I did the same. With each of their milestones, though I celebrate them, I also lament that time has flown so fast and silently that I barely noticed. When you come first, you watch others correct your mistakes and regret you did not act the same, or you watch others repeat your mistakes and wish you had led by better example.
I also am left to wonder how much my sisters compare themselves to me or weigh their experiences against my own. When they take tests, submit applications, graduate, are they thinking of how I fared when I did the same? Perhaps the weight of time that I feel is equalled by the weight they feel to follow “successfully.”
Don’t get me wrong—I love being the oldest of three for many reasons. The first being that I know no matter whether it’s spoken, I’m the favorite. Joking, of course. (But parents, feel free to silently confirm this as you read.) It’s also nice to be able to offer advice where I can, even if they don’t ask for it. And in true guinea pig fashion, it’s comforting knowing that any of the tribulations I face make life experiences more comfortable (or the tribulations more expected) for the two who come next. I’m the king’s food taster or the canary in a coal mine, to bring in two more metaphors for the heck of it.
But in the end, it’s hard, coming first. Cannot blame my parents, of course, because one of us had to be the oldest. Rather, I can blame myself for wishing for re-dos and thinking about my sisters’ milestones as reminders that I’ve been there, done that. We all make choices in life, and, retrospectively, some of those choices may not have been the “right” ones. When you come first, you live vicariously, you live once more, through those who follow, hoping they make the “right” choices and are happy with where they step.
It must be hard for parents, too—raising a guinea pig. Suddenly, after riding the grind of life, tomorrow becomes untrodden territory. Of course, I cannot speak to this personally. But I know that as kids two and three follow, each of my parents’ decisions and nuggets of wisdom is shaped by what they chose for or asked of me. Even the physical things, like what makes a good graduation gift. Well, what did we get Liv? I’m the control experiment, to bring in another metaphor for the heck of it.
But when this blog is written, when I opt for a black coffee over a cappuccino, when I graduate with a BA instead of a BEng, when anything happens, what’s done is done. You have to be entirely happy for those who follow, because for them, what’s done is done, too, and lamenting their decisions will not change them. (This is not to say I lament any of my sisters’ decisions thus far; I am just talking generally.) You have to be happy for yourself if you come first, because regardless of how you’ve chosen to lead, or how you chose to feel when looking back over your shoulder, what’s done is done. Look what happened to Orpheus.
So, congrats to my sister for completing four wonderful years of college, and congrats to my other sister for entering her last teenage year and completing her first college year of four. Congrats to my parents for holding onto sanity through it all. Congrats to those who come first, trek into the unknown, and lead by messy example. And congrats to those who follow, learning from the guinea pig’s mistakes and striving to mirror the guinea pig’s victories.
My sister just graduated from an Ivy League university with a higher GPA than I boasted. So I think any of the trials of this guinea pig were worth it. Maybe I have to be proud that I have the luxury to look back and know I’ve “done good,” as my grandma’s husband would say. Not that I am taking any amount of credit for her successes. Maybe a little, though.