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Not every woman has a loud, rock-bottom moment. Sometimes, the collapse is quiet.
It looks like saying “yes” when everything in you wants to say “no.” It’s smiling through tears, pushing through exhaustion, and putting on the performance of a woman who has it all together while silently falling apart.
It starts subtly, in the choices that seem small: putting everyone else’s needs ahead of your own, skipping the parts of your life that once brought joy, silencing your intuition because being agreeable feels safer than being real.
It builds slowly, woven into the patterns of perfectionism, people-pleasing, and the pressure to prove that you can do it all without falling apart. Until one day, you do.
An up-close & personal struggle with perfectionism
For me, the unraveling was loud. After years of striving to be “the best”—from straight A’s to national records in swimming—I became fluent in the language of perfection. I learned early on that approval and achievement felt like love. But 18 years ago, I found myself standing in front of the doors of an addiction treatment center, broken, afraid, and completely empty.
I had been a blackout drinker for over a decade, but told myself it wasn’t really a problem because it was mostly wine. I had no DUI, no job loss, no dramatic spiral. On the outside, things looked fine. But on the inside, I was disconnected, dysregulated, emotional, and convinced I wasn’t enough unless I was proving my worth.
My mantra was always, “When I (fill in the blank), I’ll finally be happy and then—maybe—I’ll quit drinking.” I was constantly looking outside myself for an external solution to an internal struggle.
There have been other loud moments since—becoming a mother, navigating divorce, and most recently, grieving the unexpected loss of my dad. All of them shook me to my core and brought me back to center. But not all collapses come as screams. Some arrive as whispers. And if we’re not paying attention, those whispers can become the loudest breaking point of all.
Getting off burnout autopilot
In my own life, and in the lives of the women I work with, I’ve seen how easily we slip into survival mode. We stop listening to ourselves. We live on autopilot. The shift is often so quiet, we miss it until we wake up one day and wonder, Where did I go?
That’s the moment. A subtle but undeniable knowing in your body that something is off. You’re living a life that looks good on paper but doesn’t feel like yours. And yet, with endless to-do lists, work deadlines, caregiving roles, and a society that tells us burnout is a badge of honor, we keep going.
We tell ourselves that if everything looks perfect on the outside, then maybe it doesn’t matter what’s unraveling on the inside. We stay silent. We keep the house clean, the inbox cleared, the mask in place. But beneath it all, something aches. The exhaustion grows. The whisper gets louder. And eventually, we can’t ignore it.
This isn’t burnout. It’s something deeper, a spiritual exhaustion. It’s what I call, “the quiet collapse.”
So many of the women I support are high-functioning and deeply depleted. They show up for everyone and everything and still feel like they’re failing themselves. Somewhere along the way, we were taught that being perfect was the goal. That being vulnerable, messy, or unsure was a weakness. But what if being “good” is actually good enough? What if not being perfect is the bravest thing we can be?
An inner homecoming
My awakening didn’t begin the day I stopped drinking. It began the day I stopped abandoning myself. It began when I chose to stay present with my discomfort, to listen to the whisper, and to come home to the woman I had been running from. That journey isn’t a one-time decision, but a daily practice.
I’m sharing this because I’ve seen too many women suffer in silence. We think we’re the only ones feeling this way: disconnected, anxious, numb. We feel guilty for not being grateful. We tell ourselves that if our lives don’t look broken, then we must be fine. But the truth is, you can have everything on paper and still feel completely lost inside.
You’re not alone. Your quiet collapse doesn’t make you broken. It makes you human. And maybe, just maybe, it’s also your invitation to come home to yourself.
Not all collapses are obvious. Here are some subtle signs you may be slowly slipping away from yourself:
- You feel emotionally numb but can’t explain why.
- Things that once brought joy now feel like obligations.
- You minimize your needs and say, “I’m fine.”
- You rarely ask for help, even when overwhelmed.
- You keep saying, “Once I get through this week…”—but the moment to rest never comes.
Key takeaways:
- The quiet collapse often appears invisible, but that doesn’t make it any less real.
- High-functioning women are especially vulnerable because their lives don’t look broken.
- There is true power in choosing to be “good enough” instead of perfect.
- Coming home to yourself isn’t a one-time decision, but a lifelong practice.
- When you listen to the whisper, you don’t have to wait for the scream.
Start here
When you’re ready to assess your own relationship with success, perfectionism, and struggle, and dive into creating a life authentic to your dreams, and your dreams only, start here.
These prompts and practices are designed to gently guide you back to yourself, one truth at a time.
- When was the last time I truly felt like myself?
- What parts of me have I silenced or hidden to keep the peace?
- What would it feel like to let “good enough” be enough for today?
You were never meant to disappear into the roles you play. You were made to take up space, to know joy, to feel peace. You don’t need a breakdown to justify a breakthrough. Listen to the whisper.