No Wonder We're Exhausted: The Invisible Rules of Modern Womanhood

Recently, I've started collecting something I call "Invisible Rules."

Not the obvious rules. The ones that sit quietly in the background of our lives, shaping how we think, feel and behave without us ever really questioning them.

They sound like:

• I should be able to do it all.

• I should be able to cope.

• I shouldn't need help.

• Good mothers put everyone else first.

• Rest must be earned.

• Other women seem to manage, so why can't I?

The more I collect them, the more I wonder whether many women aren't exhausted because they're failing.

Perhaps we're exhausted because we're trying to live up to impossible expectations.

The Performance of Modern Womanhood

It feels like modern womanhood has become a performance.

We are expected to have successful careers, meaningful relationships, healthy bodies, thriving children, beautiful homes, fulfilling friendships, hobbies, interests and purpose.

We are expected to be productive but present.

Ambitious but available.

Confident but not intimidating.

Selfless but somehow still prioritising self-care.

We are told we can have it all.

What we're rarely told is that "having it all" often feels suspiciously like "doing it all."

And that's exhausting.

Not because women aren't capable.

But because nobody can sustain that level of performance forever.

The Invisible Rules We Never Agreed To

One of the things I notice most often in my therapy room is how many women carry rules they never consciously chose.

Many of us are living according to expectations that were handed to us by family, workplaces, social media, culture, parenting books, wellness culture, feminism, the patriarchy, capitalism, or simply by observing the women who came before us.

The problem is that these rules often contradict each other.

Be independent.

But don't be lonely.

Be ambitious.

But don't neglect your family.

Take care of yourself.

But don't be selfish.

Age naturally.

But don't look older.

Speak up.

But don't be too much.

No wonder we're exhausted.

Women Do Not Heal In Isolation

The older I get, the more convinced I become that women do not heal in isolation.

Not because we are weak.

Because we were never meant to do this alone.

One of my favourite places to people-watch is the changing room at my gym.

I often notice groups of older women who have built little communities around themselves. They attend the same classes. Stand in the same spots. Check in on one another. Notice when someone is missing.

If someone doesn't turn up, someone calls.

Someone texts.

Someone asks if they're OK.

They hold each other's stories.

They ask questions.

And, perhaps most importantly, they listen.

Not to fix.

Not to advise.

Just to be there.

Recently, after one too many cocktails the night before, I dragged myself to a garden centre with a friend.

At this stage of life, this is apparently what counts as excitement.

We wandered around discussing plants, laughing about how a decade ago we'd have been getting ready for another night out rather than comparing compost.

Afterwards, I ended up asleep on her sofa.

We ordered McDonald's.

Talked about relationships, ageing, perimenopause, children, parents, work, love and life.

Another friend joined us while nursing a migraine.

Nobody solved anybody else's problems.

Nobody had a life-changing breakthrough.

But I left feeling lighter.

More connected.

More understood.

And I realised something important.

The conversation hadn't changed my circumstances.

But it changed how I carried them.

Maybe It's Not Just You

Many women arrive in therapy believing there is something wrong with them.

They think they are failing.

That everyone else has worked it out.

That they should be coping better.

That they should be more grateful.

More organised.

More resilient.

More productive.

More something.

But often what I see is not failure.

I see women trying to meet impossible expectations.

Trying to perform versions of womanhood that no longer fit.

Trying to hold everything together without support.

Trying to live by rules they never consciously agreed to.

And perhaps the first step isn't fixing yourself.

Perhaps the first step is simply becoming aware of the rules.

Asking where they came from.

Questioning whether they still serve you.

And recognising that you are not alone in carrying them.

Because if there's one thing I've learned from working with women over the years, it's this:

You do not have to carry everything by yourself.

And maybe, just maybe, the problem isn't you.

Maybe it's the rule.

I'd love to hear from you.

What's a rule you've realised you never consciously agreed to?