Beyond Boundaries: Why Discernment Matters for Eldest Daughters

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard this advice — from well-meaning therapists, self-help books, and friends who genuinely cared about me. And for years, I tried. I really did. I read the books, practiced the scripts, and tried to compartmentalize my life into neat zones of what was and wasn’t “my responsibility.”

But something always felt off.

As the eldest daughter in my family — an Ada in Igbo (a language from Nigeria, where I’m from) — I grew up with a deep sense of responsibility for others. My ability to read a room, anticipate needs, and navigate complex family dynamics wasn’t just a personality quirk. It was a refined skill set, shaped by years of lived experience, cultural expectations, and genuine care.

So when I tried to implement conventional boundary-setting advice, I didn’t feel liberated. I felt… disconnected. From myself, my people, my culture. And the relationships I cared about most? They began to suffer too.

When "Just Set Boundaries" Falls Short

A few years ago, I hit a wall.

Within a matter of months, I lost both my grandmother and my mother — two of the most grounding forces in my life. I was navigating profound grief, job loss, and serious health issues, all in the surreal stillness of the pandemic. Life had unraveled in ways I couldn’t control. The one thing I could control — or so I thought — was how I showed up in relationships.

So I did what I was told: I set boundaries.

I said no when I used to say yes. I stopped overextending. I declined calls when I was drained, didn’t rush to fix things, and paused before offering help.

At first, it felt like progress. Like I was finally protecting myself.

But over time, something far more painful began to unfold.

The calls slowed. The invitations disappeared. My once-busy phone fell silent. Family members who once leaned on me grew distant — confused by my change, hurt by my limits, or unsure how to engage with this “new” version of me.

Months passed. The grief deepened — not just from those I had lost, but from the living relationships now withering in silence.

Then one night, I got a call.

It was a relative I hadn’t heard from in weeks. The conversation was short. I listened. I held space. I did what I always used to do — except now, I noticed how automatic it still was. I hung up, sat on the floor, and finally let the truth land:

I had followed the rules. I had set the boundaries. And I had lost my entire family. I had never felt more estranged, more alone in my entire life.

That was the moment that cracked something open.

Maybe the problem wasn’t that I lacked boundaries.

Maybe the problem was that I had started in the wrong place.

The Missing Piece: Discernment

What ultimately transformed how I show up in relationships wasn’t learning how to build walls — it was learning discernment: the ability to assess each situation with nuance, taking into account not just others’ needs, but my own capacity, context, and care.

Discernment is the wisdom to distinguish between:

• Moments when giving strengthens me versus depletes me

• Relationships rooted in mutual care versus patterns of disregard

• Challenges that build resilience versus those that cause harm over time

And here’s what I realized: this wasn’t a new skill I needed to learn.

It was the same intelligence I’d been using all along to read rooms, anticipate moods, and defuse tension. I just hadn’t been taught to include myself in the equation.

I remembered how, when an elder in my family would call me at 11 p.m. for a “quick talk” that would stretch into the early hours — even after I had shared, over and over again, that I had to be up early for work — my first instinct was always the same: scan what he needed. Think about what others might expect of me now that my mother was gone. Consider the unspoken role I was supposed to play — the one who always listens, the one who everyone can depend on, the one who never complains, the “Ada” of the family.

Everything except what I needed in that moment.

When Boundaries Serve, When Discernment Leads

To be clear: boundaries are essential. Especially in situations where:

• There’s harm, manipulation, or disregard

• The relationship container feels unsafe

• There’s a desire to heal, but patterns need clearer definition

In those cases, boundaries protect our emotional and physical wellbeing.

But in relationships rooted in love and mutuality — especially within cultures that value interdependence — leading with discernment rather than defaulting to boundaries creates space for something deeper.

It honors complexity. It honors care.

And it makes space for transformation — not just distance.

The Practice of Discernment

The beauty of discernment is that it builds on strengths you already have as an Ada. You already know how to:

• Read complex social dynamics

• Navigate cultural expectations with grace

• Hold multiple truths at once

• Find creative, relational solutions

Discernment simply invites you to extend that care and clarity inward — toward yourself.

When we practice discernment — assessing whether to give, compromise, or step back — we begin to rewrite the terms of care. We start making decisions that protect our wholeness without betraying our values.

We stop seeing self-care and caregiving as opposites.

Instead, we begin to understand them as partners in healing.

We give from fullness, not obligation.

We choose presence over performance.

We build connection, not resentment.

Beyond Individual Transformation

This isn’t just a personal shift — as vital as that is.

I believe that as more of us — especially those raised to prioritize others — reclaim discernment as a core practice, we open the door to new kinds of relationships.

Imagine:

• Families where care flows in all directions, not just from eldest daughters

• Cultural traditions that uphold both collective responsibility and individual wellbeing

• Communities where giving stems from desire, and receiving is met with gratitude, not guilt

This isn’t just a self-help strategy.

It’s a blueprint for collective healing — for a future where we can be fully ourselves while remaining deeply connected to those we love.

As I began sharing these insights with other eldest daughters, I was struck by how deeply they resonated across seemingly different backgrounds. Caribbean and South Asian women nodded in recognition. First-generation immigrants shared parallel stories. Friends from Irish-Catholic families saw their experiences reflected. Black women from diverse communities worldwide related to the pattern.

What connected us wasn’t just being eldest daughters — it was navigating the tension between collectivist cultural values and personal wellbeing. While the specific expectations might differ, the underlying dynamic was remarkably consistent: how do you honor connection without losing yourself in the process?

I realized that the Ada experience transcends not just cultural boundaries but also rigid gender binaries. Many who were socialized as daughters face these challenges, regardless of how they now identify or express themselves.

Why I Created Ada Love

In the wake of that realization, I created Ada Love — a space where eldest daughters and recovering self-sacrificers could find language, support, and solidarity.

Through our interconnected offerings — community gatherings, culturally-sensitive coaching, thoughtful content, and our new research collective and a research collective designed to equip mental health practitioners with the insights they need — we’re creating a comprehensive ecosystem that supports Adas at every stage of their journey toward discernment and self-sovereignty.

I’m building this community because I don’t want anyone to experience the level of severing I did — to lose their most valued relationships in the name of healing, simply because the only frameworks available were built for entirely different cultural contexts.

Not only is Ada Love a platform where eldest daughters and other recovering self-sacrificers can feel seen, heard, and held — it’s a space rooted in a different philosophy. One that centers people from collectivist cultures who want to live in interdependence without the negative impacts of co-dependence.

An Alternate Path to Healing: Community

At my lowest point, I had no resources outside of therapists trained in Western, individualist models of mental health.

There was no roadmap for how to care for others and yourself in a way that honored your cultural values.

This is the heart of what I’m building.

I want the Ada Love community to be:

A source of wisdom, not rupture.

A place of options, not ultimatums.

A community that refuses to accept the binary or the zero-sum game of self versus family.

Because you deserve relationships that nourish, not drain you.

You deserve to give from desire, not duty.

And you deserve to be as deeply attuned to your own needs as you are to everyone else’s.

Ada is the founder of Ada Love, a global community dedicated to supporting eldest daughters and recovering self-sacrificers in developing practices of discernment, self-atunement, and emotional sovereignty. Ready to become the only one whose approval you’ll need? Subscribe to our newsletter at adaloveletters.com to receive weekly community wisdom and practical guidance from our culturally-sensitive expert community for navigating your most important relationships with both courage and care.