Women in the sandwich generation have gathered years of emotional intelligence that is dismissed by advice to “just put yourself first” as a way to cope with overwhelm.

This past weekend I reunited with two dear friends who are both squarely between their teenage children and their aging parents. They are not merely the mayo or lettuce in the sandwich generation, they are the meat and cheese of both operations. Each situation encompassed the typical stress, logistical zero-sum games and financial challenges that come with caring for two generations in a medical support system that prioritizes capitalism. It was evident as they spoke of the toll it had taken on each of them, mentally and physically. 

Even more stunning was how well they were tending to everyone in their care.

Here is one specific example. For her mom’s birthday, my friend had asked if we could all go over and sing happy birthday to her. Of course! Mom then called in a bubble of dementia, barking that she didn’t want anyone coming over today, especially not people she didn’t know (even though we all grew up together and knew Mom well). Frustrated at being yelled at and sad at the thought of not wishing her mom and HBD, my friend quickly pivoted. She went to see Mom later, unannounced but alone, to wish Mom a happy day. Mom was so touched that she gave my friend a gift. In the span of a few hours, my friend had changed plans, managed her sadness, and made her mom happy. 

My friend’s emotional skillset is pretty incredible. 

While Mom likely merits assisted living, and my friend has the legal authority to make it happen, she knows Mom doesn’t want it. With this nuance of understanding of her mom, it sometimes feels like an either/or situation. Her happiness at having her mom safe and cared for by others, or Mom’s happiness with her independence. It feels like managing a seesaw of one person’s happiness against another’s.

Not wanting to put yourself first is not necessarily about trying to be a martyr, or being a control freak, or being a perfectionist…all things that women in caregiving roles are regularly accused of. Maybe, it is that these women have a level of emotional intelligence, gathered from years of experience, that means that they understand their parents (their teens, and often many others in their lives) in a way that others do not. Rather than dismissing that skill, any advice or assistance from others should honor it. Recognize it for what it is, an ability that has taken years to learn and perfect.

While the support systems for aging are rife with issues, no amount of support is going to solve the reality that aging is difficult. That decision to take your mom’s car keys away will ever be easier. Watching the people you love the most deteriorate will never be fun. It will always require the emotional intelligence to love them and manage your own needs concurrently. 

An even more complex skill is to care for others and take good care of yourself at the same time. It requires a detailed understanding of the people around you and being able to anticipate their needs in order to balance them with your own. It also requires courage, which is something that takes both character and practice. As in, having the courage to go for a walk when you know that your disoriented mom wants you with her. You know that you need a break, and you know at this particular time your mom will be ok, if unhappy, without you. Walking this line is a muscle that needs training. It does not happen without intention. 

Sometimes I think the solution isn’t in revamping the medical or assisted living systems. It’s in growing emotional intelligence in others. If more people attempted to learn about how to care for self and others at the same time, and how to see it as a worthy goal rather than something to be ‘worked through’ so you can ‘put yourself first’. If women in the sandwich generation were told that their skills were paramount, something to be worked towards, rather than fought against. 

Maybe rather than a sandwich we would have a layer cake.