My mom was 14 when she had me, and I helped raise my siblings. In the process, I lost myself.

• My mom had me when she was 14, and by the time she was 18 I had two siblings.
• She had two more daughters when I was a teenager. I helped raise my siblings.

My mother gave birth to me at 14. She concealed her pregnancy from my grandmother, delivered me herself, and didn't reveal her secret to anyone until I was born.

My mother, an incredible and resilient woman, had three children by the time she turned 18. She had two more kids when I was a teenager. My second sister was born when I was 17, and my third sister arrived when I was 19. My mother was a single mom.

When we moved, I became a co-parent

When my mom decided to move out of my grandmother's home, I was about 8. I went from being the oldest child to being a co-parent to my siblings and a close friend to my mother.

Balancing these dual roles in my household was challenging and confusing. I was just as immature as my siblings, but I felt almost as grown up as my mother. I could discuss anything with her — she was the cool mom. We shopped together when I felt down, and I'd do thoughtful things to lift her spirits when she felt low.

Though my mother worked tirelessly to provide for us, we didn't have a lot of money. For back-to-school time and Christmas, I was OK with receiving gifts a little later so my siblings could get the things they wanted.

I felt like I needed to be a good role model

As the oldest, I felt the need to be a positive role model for everyone. I did well in school and did what I was told most of the time. Some of my responsibilities included babysitting, cleaning, and assisting with homework.

When my youngest sisters were born, I was mostly away at college, but I remained their go-to person for life advice and college guidance, and I was a shoulder to lean and cry on.

I wasn't a perfect daughter. I went through a rebellious stage when I was 12. I got in trouble with boys and would hang out too late. I felt like I deserved more time with my friends. I thought my mother was cool; she'd understand. But she didn't. I was still grounded.

I thought these punishments were unfair because I was helping her and we were equals. I didn't take them seriously, so my mother would add chores on top of chores, no time outside, and no phone calls.

I eventually realized that I was still a child and that my mother wasn't my friend. She was my mother, and my behavior wasn't good for our relationship. So I stopped misbehaving.

I felt embarrassed about my family dynamics when I left for college

When I left for college and observed the dynamics of some of my friends' households, I felt embarrassed that my childhood experiences were so different from theirs. They had family vacations and two-parent households.

I experienced depression in college because I missed my mother and my siblings. We were a team.

I felt some guilt for leaving everyone behind to be on my own. No one made me feel this way; everyone was proud of me. But my mental and emotional struggles took over. Years later, my siblings told me they felt I had abandoned them, though they understood it was a necessary step for me.

My siblings often tell me they see me as a mother figure. I even get Mother's Day messages from family members because they say I help raise the kids in our family. But I don't want that.

I'm grateful for these experiences; they've shaped who I am today, but they're also part of my trauma. I sacrificed parts of my childhood and adulthood to be the go-to person for everyone's problems. At times I neglected myself. I didn't know how to have a healthy relationship with myself for a while.

I am not a mother; I am a sister and a daughter. We all have challenges, and it's important to understand we can create boundaries with family and still be there for each other.