For Natasha Harding, 49, 'middle-child syndrome' most definitely exists. She shares her experiences of growing up with an older and younger sibling - and how it continues to affect her in adulthood.
At a family meal in a restaurant with my siblings recently, I questioned my older sister about her holiday plans, and then I listened intently as my younger brother rattled on about his newest business venture and what a success it was.
By the time I started to speak, food had arrived and nobody seemed interested in what I had to say. I didn’t take it personally, though, because over the years I’ve learnt to embrace being the middle child of the family and everything that comes with it. They say that middle children are independent, rebellious and good negotiators. I think it’s safe to say that I tick all of those boxes.
My sister Amanda is four years older than me and was a real mummy’s girl growing up. She was incredibly clever and had a vast amount of extra-curricular activities that kept her busy, and my mum’s attention was firmly on her. My brother Jason is 18 months younger and being the baby of the family – and especially as the only boy – he was both parents' golden child. I often felt as though I was the spare part, so I worked hard to get attention from, well, everybody.
I often felt as though I was the spare part, so I worked hard to get attention
My brother (Boy, as I called him) rarely spoke before the age of four, because I did enough talking for both of us and made all our collective decisions. If he was invited to a birthday party, I ensured I was also on the guest list, and while there I'd dictate what games should be played and when.
Like many middle children, I was feisty and loved nothing more than to go on adventures. Even though Boy happily tagged along with me, if things went wrong, it was only ever me that was in trouble. It was always easier to blame me, as I was older than him, so I should know better!
Even as an adult, I tend to work harder than most to impress and to make a good impression
I was fiercely independent and went to the shops on my own from a young age, and didn’t think anything of struggling back with a plastic bag full of essentials. My sister was always ‘too busy’ to pop to the shop, and Boy was too young – so it fell to the one in the middle to run the errands. Rather than questioning my mum’s relaxed parenting style, or moaning that it was unfair, I relished being useful, and I became incredibly confident and sociable as a result of my independence.
I loved being outside and if I wasn’t with my brother, I happily played all day with friends. Of course, my parents loved us all equally, but I couldn’t help feeling ‘invisible’ sometimes, so I frequently visited my grandparents in Surrey. While there, I savoured the undivided attention and being the only child – as well as devouring my grandmother’s trifle.
As a teen, my determination to be noticed more meant I became a bit of a show-off. I adored attention from the boys in our neighbourhood. I loved making them laugh – and if they were doing tricks on their bikes, I’d join in, desperate to be liked.
Even as an adult, I tend to work harder than most to impress and to make a good impression. Mum apologised to me as an adult, and acknowledged she was stricter with me – which she put down to me being the more rebellious one. And I don’t harbour any resentment at all, because she’s right – I was the bossier, more daring, louder and feistier one out of the three of us. But I was sandwiched between two amazing siblings, so I needed to find a way to steal some of the limelight. While being a middle child had its struggles, I actually think it made me who I am today, and I wouldn’t change my position in the family for the world.
