How to Avoid the “I Don’t Know How She Does It” Syndrome
Women are applauded for doing the impossible: work, parent like a superhero, buy thoughtful gifts, work out 5x a week (make sure it’s cardio and strength!), bake, read, make time for our husbands, extended family, friends, schedule flawless photo shoots of our perfect families, have the best outfit for every event, and still make it to regular doctor, dentist, and personal care appointments.
There are also the metrics we keep tucked in the back of our minds: how much we weigh, how much money we make, and how many children we have (or don’t have).
We compare ourselves, our schedules, and our ability to accomplish the impossible. After comparing ourselves, we then try to use it as motivation: If she can do it, so can I.
I find myself rejecting all of this. Maybe it’s the rebel in me.
First of all, no one can do it all. Not by themselves. Not well. Or not happily.
Second, even if someone is, why are we admiring unrealistic workloads? Why is busyness such a virtue in our culture? Do we actually think someone is going to come down from the heavens and grant us a gold star for doing everything (the childcare, the career, the perfect workout schedule, the homemade cookies, the flawless photos) to precision? Why are all of these impossible standards often falling on women in particular, especially the weight, the outfits, the perfectly happy family, the clean houses, the perfect skin?
I define the “I don’t know how she does it” syndrome as the moments when we celebrate women who manage to keep up with unrealistic standards, praise them for it, and then quietly assume we should be doing the same. We exclaim to each other, “I don’t know how she does it!” But what we’re really saying is, “This woman has more on her plate than any human should.” Because it’s kind of…inhumane…at a certain point.
I’ve been asking myself lately how to avoid this “syndrome,” especially as a new mom.
I’ve come up with a new experiment:
What if I became the woman doing the least, with the most support, with the most boundaries, and no explanation?
I’m not suggesting that I want to become the laziest version of myself. But I’ve found this question so enticing, almost as if the question itself is infused with pleasure: How can I do less?
It opens up so many possibilities.
What if I asked for help pre-emptively?
What if I felt so well-resourced that stress melted away?
What if I opted out of “doing it all” or “having it all” and just do what feels right for me?
What if I opted out of comparison?
What if I set boundaries with zero explanation?
What if I never inspire anyone ever to say, “I don’t know how she does it!” because I don’t glamorize impossible work conditions for myself?
What if I limit what’s on my plate to something very, very reasonable because my priorities are clear, I don’t get distracted, and I’m not afraid to disappoint others?
What if I actually don’t need 10k steps per day because the research shows 7k is what you need?
What if I worked out less and actually felt better in my body because my stress lowered?
What if I stopped consuming as much content?
What if I stopped asking AI as many questions?
What if I didn’t touch my laptop for a week and just rested?
In writing this article, I’ve started asking myself: what if the secret to success was rooted in the reduction (not addition) of what’s on your plate?
What if doing less actually made me more successful?
Because there’s a COST of “doing it all”
People who “do it all” often run themselves ragged. Their creativity is tapped out and offline. Their patience is thin. They’re working out a lot, which might actually be stressing their hormones. They’re sometimes hitting the mark flawlessly — and sometimes not — and either way there’s stress humming beneath it all.
Sometimes I find myself comparing myself to women who are doing a lot more than me, and I have to remind myself: I’m doing less with intention and that’s kind of…the whole point. I signed up to be a stay-at-home mom so I wouldn’t have to juggle a job and parenting. That was…kind of the whole point. To be present with my kids while they’re young. I don’t work out at 5 am because that’s not what feels good in my body, which is…kind of the whole point. You get the idea.
Ever notice how people will work REALLY hard to get wealthy, claiming they want more freedom, but their pursuit of more wealth is actually doing the opposite? I love the concept of exiting races, or hopping off the hamster wheel. That is freedom. A certain number in your bank will never allow you to turn off your pursuit of more and enjoy the moment. You have to give yourself permission to do that, and you can do it at any time.
The secret fear behind doing less
It’s ironically hard to do less. That’s why doing less and having time freedom is such a merit, luxury, and freedom. It’s not laziness; it’s proof that a person has precision, boundaries, and skill. It’s an exercise in rejecting the norm, which I believe brings out a secret fear:
If I stop “doing the most,” will I be vulnerable to having less than others: less achievement, less money, less security?
If I don’t put an impossible amount of work on my plate, where’s my badge of honor?
If I choose to do less, does that mean I’m less capable?
If I opt out, where’s my gold star?
Maybe that’s a perk of being out of the workforce for so long: I no longer need anyone to tell me I’m doing a good job, give me a good performance review, or recognize my worth in the form of pay or promotions. I’ve learned to decide on my own — what’s my work worth? Am I doing enough? Am I doing too much? Am I doing it well?
The real virtue isn’t doing it all. It’s becoming a woman with so much self-worth and so much self-awareness (of her limits and what makes her happy) that she never gets overworked and bogged down.
What’s actually worth achieving?
A relaxed energy
Quality time with your loved ones
Having enough mental space to write, create, think
What would you add to the list?
Is there anything you can delete from your plate that will give you a sense of relief?
I encourage all of us to stop celebrating demanding workloads and instead start to view peace and time freedom as a luxury beyond what anything money can buy us. And it might just unlock our healthiest, happiest, and even most successful versions of ourselves. What do you think? Is quitting and reduction better than addition? Is doing less actually the secret to success? What happens to your brain when you give it fewer inputs? Can you think more clearly? I’d love to know if any of this resonated with you in the comments.
