Love, Leadership and The Life In-Between Between

By Julie Ashlock

Some mornings, I wake before dawn to review a financial forecast, and by mid-morning, I’m reviewing my father’s blood pressure log. By lunchtime, I’m balancing a global expansion strategy and my daughter’s teenage mood swings - both equally unpredictable.

I used to think “having it all” meant success, stability, and maybe a little serenity. Now I know it often looks like holding everything together with one hand while answering an email with the other.

I’m part of what sociologists call the sandwich generation - professionals who care for aging parents and growing children at the same time. It sounds almost cute, like something you might order with a latte. But the truth is, it’s not a neat little sandwich. It’s more like a buffet of responsibilities, served daily and never cleared.

The Hidden Job Description

As a C-suite executive, I’m accustomed to long hours, high stakes, and the relentless pace of leadership. But caregiving introduced a new kind of pressure - emotional, unpredictable, deeply human.

I can manage a crisis in the boardroom with practiced calm, but nothing prepared me for navigating my mother’s medical appointments in one time zone and my son’s university applications in another.

I once chaired a global meeting while sitting in a hospital parking lot, the sound of ambulance sirens bleeding faintly into the background. “We’ll circle back on that,” I said smoothly, though what I really meant was, I need five minutes to remember how to breathe.

It’s in those moments that the illusion of balance dissolves. You realize leadership doesn’t stop when you leave the office. It simply changes shape.

The Humor That Keeps Us Human

Humor has become my oxygen. Without it, the weight of so much responsibility might crush me.

Like the time my father called mid-board meeting because he couldn’t find the TV remote, which, after much detective work, turned out to be in the refrigerator. “Cold entertainment,” he said cheerfully. Or when my daughter rolled her eyes at me for missing her soccer game, only for me to find her later using my corporate laptop to research prom dresses.

I used to apologize for these interruptions, for not being the perfect executive, perfect mother, or perfect daughter. Now, I see them as proof that I’m fully alive, juggling lives, not roles.

Leadership Lessons from Caregiving

Caregiving has changed how I lead. It’s stripped away the illusion that control equals competence. Now I value empathy as much as efficiency, patience as much as profit.

I’ve learned to listen more deeply - to the colleague who’s caring for a sick spouse, to the young manager balancing work and newborn twins, to myself, when I need rest and rarely grant it.

In many ways, this season has made me better at what I do. My priorities have sharpened; my perspective has softened. I see the people behind the titles, the humanity inside the hierarchy.

Because when you’re caring for someone who once cared for you, or raising someone who’s learning to care for themselves, your understanding of leadership expands beyond job descriptions. It becomes something sacred.

The Myth of “Balance”

Let’s be honest: balance is a myth we keep trying to manifest with color-coded calendars and morning affirmations.

There are days when I close a deal and forget to eat. Days when I forget the deal but remember every detail of my mother’s smile. Some days I win at work; others, I win at patience.

I’ve learned to redefine balance not as symmetry, but as grace. Grace to fall short. Grace to recover. Grace to laugh in the middle of exhaustion and still mean it.

What We Leave Behind

When I look at my daughter, I hope she doesn’t see someone stretched thin. I hope she sees someone who loved deeply, her work, her family, her life - and refused to choose between them.

When I sit with my parents, I feel the quiet legacy of their care in my own heartbeat. I’m reminded that strength is often invisible, that love is a long game, and that success has many languages.

In this global sisterhood of women who lead and care, we may not all share the same circumstances, but we share the same rhythm, the constant dance between purpose and presence.

We are not divided between our professional and personal selves. We are layered, luminous, complex.

So no, I don’t have balance. But I have meaning. I have motion. I have mornings that begin with spreadsheets and end with soft goodnights.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s what real power looks like.

Connect With Julie

www.julesbodyshoppe.com

www.linkedin.com/n/julieashlock