Therapy for the Sandwich Generation
When Your Parents and Your Kids Need You in the Same Week
The cardiologist has an opening on Thursday at two. You take it, because openings like that don’t come twice. Then the rest of Thursday gets rebuilt around it.
Your daughter needs a ride at three. The new pill schedule goes on the back of a receipt, because your hands are full. By the time you sit down, the whole week has been arranged around people who aren’t you.
At 11, you’re still awake running the ledger. Refills. The tuition portal. Whether anyone remembered to eat.
Even sitting still, your mind runs through everyone’s appointments.
Medications. Schedules. Finances. None of it is written down anywhere else.
There’s no setting on this marked off.
Being in the Middle Costs You Twice
You left your mother’s house 40 minutes early to make the game.
You spent the second half answering messages about her insurance.
Both of them got the version of you that was already somewhere else. The guilt arrives twice for the same afternoon.
From the outside, this looks like ordinary family life. A daughter who calls her mother. A mother who drives her kids.
What nobody sees is one person running the logistics for two households from a single head, on the same Thursday, forever.
Who takes care of the person who’s taking care of everyone else? You asked it once, late one night. Then the phone lit up, and you set it down.
Find Out What You Want With Every Hour Already Spoken For
The love your family gets from you stays exactly where it is.
I won’t be telling you to hand any of this off or how to manage your mother’s care.
Your mother still needs a cardiologist. Your kids still need you on Thursday.
We work on the part of this that lives inside you. A lot of our time goes to questions you’ve had no room for: What do you value, and what do you want an ordinary week to hold?
That sounds like luxury questions when every hour is already spoken for. It’s the questions that decide where you go when something has to give.
Getting Specific About What’s Yours
Something gives every week. So we get specific.
Which parts of caring for your parents do you want to be the one who does?
What a Sunday afternoon would hold if 45 minutes of it were yours.
Where the guilt tells you something true, and where it’s just loud.
The Thursday That Still Has You in It
The cardiologist still calls with an opening. You still take it.
Three things still need to be moved to make it fit.
What’s different is that you feel yourself making the decision.
You know what the trade costs.
An hour with your name on it goes into the week and survives until Thursday. You sit at your mother’s kitchen table without half of you drafting the next three days.
Your son tells you something on the drive home. You get all of it.
The list stays long. Your own life stops being the thing you fit in whatever time is left.
Tell Me What Your Week Looks Like
You’ve booked appointments for everyone in your family this month. One of them can be yours.
I work with women across Washington State via video from whatever room you can have to yourself.
The consultation is free. Tell me what an ordinary Thursday takes out of you.
Come Home to Yourself
Rebuilding trust in yourself doesn’t happen in a single conversation, and it doesn’t ask you to become a different person.
It starts with one honest hour, with someone who’s genuinely interested in what you think.
You don’t need a diagnosis, a plan, or a tidy explanation of what’s wrong before you reach out.
This time, the person you’re consulting is you. I’m here to help you hear the answer.
Reach out today, and we’ll find a time to talk. I’d love to hear your story and help you write what comes next.
