There’s a moment that happens again and again in my office.

A woman sits down, takes a breath, and starts telling me about her life. The job she cares about. The kids she loves. The constant feeling that she’s behind, no matter how hard she tries.

She doesn’t use big language.

She doesn’t say anything about culture or policy or systems.

What she usually says is something much smaller. And much heavier at the same time.

“I don’t know why I can’t handle this.”
“I should be better at this by now.”
“I feel like I’m failing.”

Sometimes she laughs as she says it, as if that will soften the blow. Sometimes she apologizes for even feeling this way. Often she looks genuinely confused — like if she could just figure out what’s wrong with her, everything might finally make sense.

And I almost never interrupt right away.

Because I know what’s coming next.

As we slow things down and widen the lens — just a little — a different story begins to take shape. One that includes long work hours, invisible labor, caregiving responsibilities, relentless expectations, and very little margin. A story where the exhaustion actually makes perfect sense.

But so often, they don’t see it.

When women don’t have language for the context they’re living inside of, they turn the stress inward. They assume the problem is their capacity.

They’re trying to stay dry without ever being told they’re in water.

So they look for solutions that sound like this: If I just tried harder. Worked more. Got up earlier. If I could fix myself, everything would finally feel manageable.

What’s missing isn’t effort. It’s context.

Before we can talk about change, we have to be able to see the environment we’re responding to — to name what’s being asked, and whether it was ever reasonable to begin with.

What the research shows

Psychology has been clear about this for a long time: stress is not just about mindset. It’s about environment.

Research on chronic stress and allostatic load shows that when people are exposed to sustained demands without enough recovery or control, the nervous system shifts into survival mode. Over time, this leads to emotional exhaustion, anxiety, depression, and physical health consequences. In short, long-term stress changes the body and brain. This isn’t about weakness or grit.

Similarly, decades of research on work–family conflict show that when roles are incompatible and support is lacking, distress is a predictable outcome. Women — especially mothers — experience this conflict more intensely and are more likely to internalize the strain. Essentially, when the structure is unsustainable, suffering is not a personal flaw, but we often treat it as one.

This is why context matters so much.

When women can’t see the system, they assume they are the problem.
When they can see it, something shifts — not into blame or helplessness, but into accuracy.

And accuracy is grounding.

This is why I run groups

This moment — when women realize their struggle is not a referendum on their competence — is also why I do my group work.​

Because something powerful happens when women sit together and hear their own private thoughts spoken out loud by someone else. They see that they aren’t alone.

They often recognize the systemic pieces first in other women’s stories, and then, with more gentleness, they begin to name them in their own lives. That shared clarity creates relief, and from that relief, choice becomes possible.

In groups, women don’t just feel validated…they become more empowered.

They stop treating exhaustion as evidence of inadequacy.
They stop confusing struggle with lack of ambition.
They learn how to make decisions — internal and external — from a place of steadiness instead of self-criticism.

This is the nuance I care most about holding:

When we stop letting our struggle define our capacity, and instead name the system we’re living inside of, we get permission for ambition and for rest.

We can want more.
We can need less.
And we don’t have to prove our worth in the process.

If you’re reading this and thinking, Yes. This is exactly what I’ve been missing, my next group is starting in March. It’s a space to see yourself clearly, to think alongside other women who get it, and to find a way forward that doesn’t require shrinking or burning out.

You can reply to this email or click here to learn more. I’m always happy to help you decide if it’s the right fit.

Tip to try this week

The next time you catch yourself thinking, Why can’t I handle this? — pause.

Ask yourself two different questions:

1. What am I being asked to carry right now?
2. Is this a capacity issue — or a context issue?

You don’t need a perfect answer. Just noticing the difference can soften the self-judgment enough to open up new options.

Because so often, what looks like failure is actually adaptation.

​
What might change if you stopped letting your struggle define your capacity?

Talk soon,
Anne

P.S. This idea has been living with me for a long time. I recently shared a longer version of this reflection on Substack, including why I wasn’t willing to tell a story that quietly put the burden back on women. You can read it here if you want to go deeper.