The Middle Child Dilemma

I've always been the middle child in my family. My brother is three years older than me and my sister is two years younger. For a long time, I felt like I was sandwiched between two stars while I struggled to find my own place under the sun. Mom would often say things like, 'Why can't you be more like your brother? He's so responsible!' Or to my sister, 'You're just like your big brother.' It wasn't until recently that I noticed a pattern in how my parents handled things when we were kids. Every summer, our family went camping. My mom would plan the trip meticulously and tell each of us what she expected from us regarding set-up, meals, and cleanup. My brother was tasked with finding campsites for weeks before our trip, setting up the tent, making sure everything on our checklist was ready. To my sister, Mom always gave tasks that involved less responsibility but still had a positive impact, picking berries to eat for breakfast or collecting firewood. I was left with these vague instructions: 'Keep things running smoothly when we're there,' which mostly amounted to not getting in anyone's way. That one time at camp, it was really windy and my brother’s tent blew away. Instead of helping him set up the tent again (which could have been a team effort), Mom told me I should handle it, despite not having much experience with tents myself. Meanwhile, she praised my sister for finding some pretty wildflowers to decorate our makeshift shelter. I did end up setting up the tent on my own and got quite a few blisters in the process. But here's what happened next: when we got home from camp, Mom sat me down at the kitchen table and asked why I didn't help my brother more during the camping trip. I had to explain that he was already busy trying to get his tent reassembled with no luck, but she seemed unsatisfied with this answer. That’s the day I realized how little of a voice I have in our family's expectations and dynamics. While I try not to take it out on anyone else or let it ruin my relationships, sometimes the resentment still builds up. This isn’t an indictment of Mom or Dad; just me figuring out where I fit into this dynamic without them always dictating what that should look like.