The Unpaid Job Most Women Do Until They Finally Don't
What happens when you stop managing everyone else's feelings
A friend of mine turned 65 a couple of months ago. During her birthday dinner, one person at the table asked her what she hoped for in the coming years.
As she refilled her wine glass, she replied, “I want to quit being the go-to person for everyone’s emotional messes.”
You could have heard a pin drop.
We all can relate to this
You’re managing your partner’s anxiety so they don’t get stressed.
Absorbing your adult children’s disappointments so they don’t feel bad.
Smoothing over tension at family dinners.
Reading the room constantly, adjusting your energy to match what everyone else needs.
It’s exhausting. And here’s the thing most people don’t realize: it doesn’t actually help anyone.
You end up handling your partner’s worries, so they avoid falling apart. You take on the disappointments of your grown kids to spare them the pain. You ease the rough spots at family gatherings.
You shift your own mood to fit what others require.
That kind of work wears you down completely.
The invisible promotion nobody wanted
Most of us got promoted to Chief Emotional Officer somewhere in childhood.
Maybe you learned to manage a parent’s mood swings. Or you became the peace-keeper between fighting siblings. Maybe you figured out that if you stayed small and accommodating, things went smoother for everyone.
The problem is that the job description follows you into every relationship after that.
You’ve spent decades managing everyone else’s emotional state. Who’s been managing yours? How did so many of us end up in charge of everyone’s feelings?
It starts at a young age
Most people picked up this role when they were young.
For me, it was having to help my father take care of my ill mother. For a long time, we struggled because we didn't know the diagnosis. And my sister, 3 years younger, needed my emotional support.
Maybe you had to manage around a parent’s temper. Maybe you stepped in to calm things between arguing brothers or sisters. Or, you may have realized staying quiet and easygoing kept everything running better for the family.
Children pick up on those patterns quickly. They figure out what keeps peace. Experts call it “parentification.” In simple terms, you took on grown-up emotional duties way too soon.
The issue stays with you, though. It tags along in your partnership. It shows up in your close friendships. It even creeps into your job. It lingers in just about every connection that follows.
A study at the University of Texas showed that individuals who are deeply involved in caring for others’ emotions face way more burnout and worry by middle age.
Not surprising.
Other people’s feelings aren’t your responsibility
“You are not responsible for how others process their emotions.” Let me say this again: “You are not responsible for how others process their emotions.”
This sentence stops people dead in their tracks.
“But what if they get upset?”
They might.
When you manage everyone else’s emotions, you’re actually doing something subtle and damaging: you’re telling them they can’t handle their own internal experience. You’re saying their feelings are too big, too scary, too much.
You’re also teaching them that your needs don’t matter.
Research in emotional regulation shows that when we constantly buffer other people from their own feelings, we prevent them from developing their own coping skills. We think we’re helping. We’re actually creating dependency.
You’re an expert in everyone’s feelings but your own
Here’s what I see in my therapy practice constantly: women in their 40s, 50s, 60s, and beyond can tell you exactly how everyone around them feels. They know when their partner is stressed before he does. They sense their friend’s disappointment from a three-word text.
Ask them how they feel. Blank stare.
“I’m fine.”
Translation: I haven’t checked in with myself in 30 years because I’ve been too busy checking in with everyone else.
One client told me she realized she’d been holding her breath for two decades, waiting for permission to exhale. “From whom?” I asked.
“Literally anyone,” she said.
The rebellion starts quietly
My friend did not declare her break from handling emotions on the morning of her big birthday. Things built up over time.
Six months ago, her son called, upset about a work conflict. Instead of spending an hour coaching him through it—her usual routine—she said, “That sounds really hard. What do you think you’ll do?”
She asked what he planned to try next. After that, she ended the call. And guess what? He sorted it out without her input.
Imagine that.
Then she stopped pre-apologizing for everything. Stopped soothing her husband’s grumpiness with cheerfulness.
“The first few weeks were weird,” she told me. “I felt selfish and self-centered. Then I felt free.”
What happens when you quit
Some people will be confused. They’ve gotten used to you absorbing their emotions.
Some will be angry. They’ll accuse you of “changing” or “not caring anymore.”
A few will step up. They’ll start managing their own feelings. They’ll ask what you need for once.
The relationships that survive your resignation are the ones that were real in the first place.
One of my clients, after six months of practicing emotional boundaries, told me, “I lost two friendships. I gained my life back. That’s a trade I’d make again.”
The second half requires different job skills
If you’re over 40 and reading this, you’ve got enough life experience to know what doesn’t work.
You’ve got enough years ahead to actually enjoy the freedom. And you’ve probably got enough evidence that people-pleasing doesn’t earn you the love you thought it would.
The second half of life asks different questions. Not “How can I make everyone happy?” but “What do I actually need?” Not “How do I avoid conflict?” but “What’s worth the discomfort?”
Your new job description
Notice your own feelings before everyone else’s.
Say what you need without apologizing for needing it.
Let other people sit with their discomfort. They’re adults. They’ll survive.
Stop preventing problems that aren’t yours to prevent.
State your needs without “sorrys” attached.
Ask for what you want, knowing you might not get it.
That’s still better than never asking.
The permission you’ve been waiting for
You don’t need anyone’s approval to resign from this job.
You don’t need to wait until you’re 60 or until everyone else is ready for you to have boundaries.
The person who needs to be ready is you.
One of my clients said, “It turns out the world doesn’t end when I don’t fix everything.”
She chuckled, then said, “I should’ve quit this job 30 years ago.”
Better late than never
The job you never applied for is the easiest one to leave. You don’t even need to give two weeks’ notice!
You just stop showing up to manage everyone else’s emotional state.
And suddenly, there’s room for you.
What’s one thing you do regularly to manage someone else’s feelings that you’d love to stop doing?
I’m reading every word here. Can’t get to everyone, but thank you for sharing.
I’m building a space for women who are done performing. If this resonated with you, stick around. There’s more where this came from, and we’re just getting started.
My adult daughter and I were just navigating this “when and where does it ever end?” So rather than orchestrate everyone else’s dream thanksgiving, we started a new direction. Pies to bake because yes - it is the piece everybody suffers through turkey for, and Chinese takeout for cook’s choice. This may be the best holiday ever!
Beautifully written. I was the emotional caretaker for my mom as a child. It led to decades of people-pleasing. Thankfully, I hit a brick wall a few years ago and have now dedicated my life to (learning) and teaching boundaries.