6Part 4 of Starts at 60’s Sandwich Generation series

When 66-year-old Margaret Lewis finally broke down at her kitchen table, it wasn’t because of her mother’s latest fall or another medical form to fill in. It was a text from her younger sister that pushed her over the edge. “Can you just keep doing what you’re doing? You’re so good at it,” it read. For Margaret, it summed up how many in the Sandwich Generation feel – stretched between generations, taken for granted, and terrified that saying no will cause family fractures that can’t be repaired. “I love my family,” she says softly. “But sometimes it feels like I’m the glue holding everyone together – and I’m running out of stickiness.”

The burden behind closed doors

Julie, 65, knows that feeling all too well.

“I’ve been the carer of the family to varying degrees,” she says. “So much unseen by those outside the family.” Her story could fill volumes. Over the years, she’s cared for her parents, her brother and her daughter – all while navigating the daily grind of transport, appointments, emergencies, and housework.

“I was there 24/7,” she says. “Then there were the fights and battles for outside help that never came. They’re stories on their own.” When flu swept through her household, all three – mum, dad and daughter – were bedridden. Her mother developed pneumonia so severe she began hallucinating. “She was seeing elephants all over the place,” Julie recalls. “I had one neighbour helping with shopping and pharmacy pickups. That was it.”

Living in a regional town made everything harder. Specialist appointments were 400 kilometres away. “Don’t get me started on the so-called Patient Transit Scheme,” she says wryly. “That’s why we eventually moved closer to a city.”

Her daughter, who had foot surgery at 14, missed six months of school because it wasn’t wheelchair accessible. Her mum stopped driving, her dad refused to travel outside the local area, and one day her mother tripped over loose wire and hit the ground hard. “Again,” Julie says, “I had to care because the system wouldn’t.”

After decades of unpaid, relentless care, Julie has nothing left in superannuation. “I’ve been told carers aren’t recognised as workers because ‘you do it for family’,” she says. “I’ve worked 24/7, and I’m in a rental because so much money was spent moving around trying to find help that didn’t exist. For me, and for so many like me, this is as good as it gets.” She takes prescribed medication to cope. “Only goes so far,” she says. “I looked one day at the UN slavery charter – it describes carers. I’m so beyond tired. And burned out.”

Why boundaries matter more than ever

Julie’s exhaustion is what happens when boundaries and communication fail – not because she didn’t try, but because the load was invisible to others. A Brisbane family therapist, says this is one of the great hidden pressures facing over-60s in Australia. “When care work is informal – done out of love or duty – it often goes unnoticed,” she explains. “That invisibility erodes communication. People assume the carer will keep coping, and by the time resentment shows, it’s already become burnout.”

For carers, the healthiest thing isn’t to keep saying yes, but to define what yes means. “A boundary isn’t rejection,” she says. “It’s clarity. It says, ‘I want to keep caring – but I need help to do that safely.’ ”

Turning family chaos into collaboration

Margaret, after months of quiet resentment, eventually called a family meeting. “I was terrified it would turn into a blame session,” she admits. Instead, she laid out a handwritten list of tasks – from doctor visits to shopping runs – and next to each, wrote who she thought could take it on. “I didn’t lecture,” she says. “I just said, ‘This is what I’ve been doing. This is what I can keep doing. And this is what I can’t.’ ”

Her brother, who lived interstate, offered to manage the bills and medical claims online. Her sister began coordinating home visits twice a week. “It wasn’t perfect,” Margaret says. “But for the first time, I didn’t feel alone.”

Experts say that’s exactly what good communication looks like – specific, practical, and respectful.

Tips for healthy family negotiations:
• Start from shared values (“We all want Mum safe and comfortable.”)
• Use “I” statements instead of blame (“I feel overwhelmed” versus “You never help”).
• Be realistic about what you can give.
• Revisit agreements regularly.
• Ask for professional mediation if conflict becomes entrenched.

When adult children add to the load

For many carers, the demands don’t just come from ageing parents or siblings – but from adult children who still rely on them. “It’s common for over-60s to be the backbone for multiple generations,” says Sydney counsellor David Healy. “Financial support, emotional support, childcare – it’s a constant drain. But if boundaries aren’t set, resentment poisons those relationships too.”

Healy encourages parents to have upfront conversations about limits: “You don’t need to apologise for having boundaries. You just need to communicate them with kindness and consistency.”

Finding a voice – and some peace

Julie reveals her pain when she talks about the toll caring has taken, but there’s also defiance there. “I might be angry,” she says, “but I’m not giving up.”
She now sees a therapist and has joined a local carers’ support group. “It helps to talk with people who actually get it,” she says. “They don’t tell you to just ‘take a break’. They know there’s no break to take.”

The family therapist says that even when outside help is limited, regular communication with family can ease the emotional load. “If you can’t divide the work, at least share the understanding,” she says. “Even acknowledgment can lighten the burden.”

The takeaway: care, but with clarity

Families under pressure don’t fall apart because people stop loving each other – they fall apart because people stop listening. For those in the Sandwich Generation, learning to communicate openly, ask for help, and set limits isn’t selfish – it’s survival.
As Julie puts it: “All I ever wanted was for someone to see what I was doing, to know I wasn’t Superwoman. I’m just a daughter, a mother, a sister – trying to hold everyone up, when no one’s holding me.”