Let me explain to you what it was like being the oldest child of immigrant parents.

I had to get a career that would make me a lot of money. That was always the goal.

I thought that it was going to be me that rescued the family and put our family name on my back. I had to behave because if I didn’t, I would risk my parents getting deported. Maybe not in those terms, but I had the pressure that if I weren’t a model citizen, I would not get the same opportunity as the rest.

I was a translator from the moment I learned English. I hated it. I didn’t know if I was doing something right. If my parents didn’t understand my translation, I would be upset. I would want them to learn English on their own.

I was scared of bringing new friends over to the house. My parents were not the shy type, and the last thing I wanted to do was translate for my friends.

I was scared of parent-teacher conferences because even though my parents hardly spoke English, they had tons of questions on how I could improve and what I could do differently. That was probably the last thing I wanted to translate if I wasn’t doing something correctly.

I got into trouble for speaking English in the house with my little sister. I was embarrassed only to talk in Spanish for a while. I loved being around my English speaking friends, but sometimes they used words that I did not understand.

There were times where I only knew the word for something in Spanish, and I didn’t have Google to help me out at the time. I would look up a dictionary just to learn new words and figure out how to use them.

I had the pressure of setting the bar high for my siblings. I was to be their second father in a sense because I knew what things were like, and I was supposed to help them out of trouble as often as I could.

I was obligated to take my younger brother most places with me because he was also my responsibility. I had to show him everything my dad taught me and more. If he didn’t turn out okay, that responsibility would fall on me.

I had the pressure of providing for the family because every opportunity wasn’t available for my parents. After the 2008 crash, so many more opportunities were not available for them.

When my father lost his job, I had to be the one to help him create a resume to get him another one. He was to learn how to apply for employment with my help, and I would be there to walk him through every step of the way. Just like they were when I got my first homework assignment in kindergarten.

I had to be the one to teach my parents the importance of keeping your money in the bank and that the bank was not going to report anything to the IRS unless you were doing something fishy. Which in my parents’ case, they never did anything out of line.

I write these things not to complain because I’m happy I went through these things. I genuinely believe I am a better person because of it.

I write this because I can’t imagine how tough it must’ve been for my parents—coming to a whole new country, sacrificing all of their comforts just to try and provide for a family they had yet to create. Then when they started seeing all of their hard work get lost and seeing their kid try and pick them back up.

I failed a lot. I allowed so many failures because I wasn’t taking the necessary steps to help them. In all honesty, if I had cared a little bit less about myself and a few more for them, we may have even gone through a better course. I can’t say I’m glad it happened the way it did because there were many dark days that I can’t even remember. My brain won’t allow it. I am pleased with how things have turned out because it was a valuable lesson I had to learn. Everything that they’ve done up to this moment, I pray it’s been worth it for them.