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Eldest syndrome is real—and it could be ruining your adult friendships

They do care, but when care turns to control and support becomes surveillance, even the most loyal friendships start to fray.

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We all have that one friend—the mom or dad of the group. They're the ones who plan your birthday, know your Wi-Fi password, remind you to drink water when you’re crying over a breakup, and is always the first to say, “What you need to do is…” Generous, dependable, and impossibly put together, they hold the crew together. But spend enough time with them, and you realise: they don’t really know how not to be in charge.

This is what's called eldest syndrome, and it’s not a diagnosis but rather a cultural and psychological pattern—one that’s quietly reshaping how friendships function in adulthood. It springs from the eldest child instinct to manage, mediate, and sacrifice. However, when these instincts extend beyond the family into our adult relationships, it can slowly erode connection.

“The concept was first explored by Alfred Adler,” says Sweta Bothra, lead psychologist at Amaha. “He studied birth order and how it influences personality. According to him, the eldest child is often the most responsible one—because they grow up with their parents’ full attention and expectations.” Over time, this attention mutates into pressure. They’re told to set examples, keep their siblings safe, and rarely mess up.

“Because of high parental expectations, they may come off as perfectionists. That responsibility doesn’t switch off in adulthood. They may expect their partners or friends to behave in a certain way in their environment. For example, ‘If you’re coming over, I expect you to keep things in their place, be on time, do things efficiently.’ Whether it’s objectively necessary or not isn’t the point—it feels necessary to them,” Bothra explains.


Psychiatrist Dr Shorouq Motwani from Mumbai’s Lilavati Hospital unpacks the root of this control in a concept known as parentification. “Eldest children are often praised for helping exhausted parents or managing younger siblings. Over time, they internalise the idea that loving someone means managing them.”

This creates what she calls a conflation of care with control. “They may give unsolicited advice or intervene in others’ decisions, not because they’re arrogant, but because their identity is entwined with being the capable one.” For them, love is responsibility. But for friends, it can feel like micromanagement—or worse, emotional colonisation.

Signs you’re in a friendship with an 'eldest' energy

If you’re constantly being given advice (even when you didn’t ask), if your plans are always set by one person, or if you tiptoe around them for fear of disappointing them, you might be in a friendship governed by eldest dynamics.

“These individuals often become de facto emotional managers,” Dr Motwani says. “They organise group plans, act as mediators in friend conflicts, and become the ‘go-to’ person for emotional labour.” But with that comes burnout. “They often feel unseen because, while they are providing support to everyone else, their own emotional needs go unmet.”

Bothra agrees. “It can make relationships feel deeply lonely, even when you're surrounded by people. You don't know how to sit back and let someone else hold space for you.”


When help feels like surveillance

Eldest children in adult friendships can also be inflexible. “They may not be okay if a friend is five minutes late because they’re used to being on time or before time,” Bothra explains. “Over time, friends may feel they have to walk on eggshells—that they’ll disappoint this person if they aren’t perfect.”

The emotional fallout? “Friends feel parented rather than supported,” Dr Motwani says. “And the eldest sibling eventually feels unappreciated. In therapy, this often reveals a deep-seated loyalty to early family roles—and a fear that if they’re not useful, they’re irrelevant.”

What goes unseen is the inner pressure these friends carry. “They feel like, ‘Unless I achieve, unless I’m responsible, unless I’m perfect, I am not worthy,’” Bothra says. “It’s deeply internalised.”

She adds, “Even when they realise they’re the ones doing too much, they often don’t understand the perpetuating pattern—that they aren’t allowing others to show up for them. There’s a belief that letting go means letting things fall apart.”

Relearning love without leadership

So what can be done? For those who recognise themselves in this pattern, Bothra suggests starting with distress tolerance—learning to sit with imperfection. “Anything done is better than doing it perfectly. Slowly help them delegate tasks. Teach them it’s okay to ask for help.”

Dr Motwani adds that inner child work, genograms, and role reversal exercises can help oldest-sibling types understand where these behaviours stem from. “Once they label the pattern, they can begin to disconnect from it. The goal is to have pure relationships—not performance-based ones.”

For those on the receiving end of an eldest-style friendship, Bothra encourages “I” statements to initiate a feedback loop. “Say things like, ‘I feel anxious when I can’t meet your expectations.’ Help them understand that this is a relationship, not a project.”


As friendships replace traditional family structures—especially in urban life—this dynamic feels increasingly outdated. We crave reciprocity, not roles. Shared space, not silent hierarchies. And while it’s important to have dependable people in our lives, it’s equally important that they let us breathe.

To be a good friend doesn’t require control. It requires presence. Vulnerability. The ability to say, “I don’t know, but I’m here.” The era of friendship as caretaking is ending—and with it, the belief that being loved means always leading.

After all, you don’t have to be the eldest to be enough.

Lead Image: Netflix 

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