Torn between work, caring for children or grandchildren and caring for elderly relatives at the same time, the sandwich generation certainly don't have it easy. Author Rosie Staal describes that feeling of being pulled in too many directions by family life - and why she counts her blessings anyway.
Rosie Staal
Feeling squashed - life in the sandwich generation
Posted on: Thu 21-Aug-14 10:40:48
(49 comments )
Nothing can describe the feeling of suffocation mixed with terror that comes from being in the middle of a generational sandwich.
It's mostly a nice kind of suffocation and a bearable sort of terror, but it can sometimes threaten to overwhelm. Take the occasions when I'm alone with my mother who is aged 92 and suffering with Alzheimer's, breast cancer, hearing loss and poor sight, and the sense of responsibility is immense. It's only me, I think. Just me and you, mama, against the world and all it's throwing at you these days.
I'm the little one, the younger daughter whose head was always filled with irresponsible dreams while the world went on around her. Now, my world is only too real. I find myself having to keep my feet on the ground and make decisions and be a bit bossy. "No, mum. You don't need more lights on. It's dark in your flat because you're wearing sunglasses. Take them off."
She's sweet, affectionate, funny, quick-witted and cannily adept at disguising her limitations when in company, but she lives almost entirely in the moment. Conversations, always shouted because she won't wear or can't find her much hated hearing aid, consist mostly of mundane matters. She reads her daily Times newspaper, often several days out of date, and two weekly newspapers, studying every picture, reading every line. Within one minute, she has not the slightest recollection of any of it. Never mind. It's all part of her daily routine, which is so important when memory loss dominates.
I feel torn in so many directions, spread too thinly to be entirely useful and I suspect I don't come up to scratch in all areas of the daughter, mother, grandmother and wife stakes.
Although mum is enviably agile and can even run when the mood or occasion demands, she is physically small and I worry she'll break if bumped by passers-by when we're out, our arms linked for extra safety. Few people give way on pavements these days, have you noticed?
I'm lucky, I know, not just that I have my mum and that she is still able to show her love in many ways, but that I share her care with my big sister. If I were truly alone, with all the responsibility on my shoulders, I wonder how I would cope.
The reason I have doubts is that it isn't just mum who takes my time and attention (and big shares of my caring gene), but it's my husband, my children, and my six grandchildren as well. I feel torn in so many directions, spread too thinly to be entirely useful, and I suspect I don't come up to scratch in all areas of the daughter, mother, grandmother and wife stakes. Yet no one is judging me. No one has said I'm rubbish at this. I guess they trust me to do my best.
It's not easy. The young ones lives miles from us, so it's upsetting that I don't have the time to see more of my grandchildren and frustrating that, for instance, I can't relieve my daughter's appalling sleep deprivation by helping with her two boys, especially the insomniac toddler. She'll cope and get through it. I did, I tell her, unhelpfully.
So on I go, wondering what the future holds while counting all my many blessings and sharing the immense love I have for all the players in my mad game of Happy Families.
I'm the only one who knows that my head sometimes feels as though it's in meltdown and my feet are paddling frantically under the surface.
Rosie is the author of What Shall We Do With Mother, available now from Amazon.