From my first day at school, I adored studying. My identity quickly began to centre around being competent, capable, and curious. It started from a genuine love of learning, reinforced by praise from parents and teachers. But looking back, I can pinpoint the exact moment that love for learning became something more rigid—a strategy for survival.
I was seven years old, and my neighbour and classmate, who wasn’t exactly known for his diligence, handed back my maths homework. The mark? A humiliating C-. He looked me in the eye, smirked, and said with mock congratulations, “Well done.” It wasn’t just embarrassment I felt—it was a wave of shame, like cold water drenching my identity as a “good student.”
That day, I stayed after school with my teacher, determined to master the concept of division. Failure wasn’t an option anymore. Without realising it, I began to equate my worth with proving my competence, and a pattern was born: avoid shame at all costs, even if it means overworking.
Years later, this strategy showed up again. On the first day of my prestigious physics and maths lyceum, we were given sprint-speed exams across all subjects to establish our level. I aced everything—except chemistry. I scored 9 out of 20, a public mark of failure in front of my highly competitive peers. The shame hit hard, and once again, I responded the only way I knew how: doubling down on effort to prove my worth.
For two years, I poured myself into extracurricular chemistry work, even asking the teacher for mentorship. By the end, she was so impressed that she offered to write me a recommendation for the university’s chemistry department. What she didn’t know was that I hated chemistry. It was never about love for the subject—it was about avoiding shame.
Maybe something similar has happened to you. A moment at school, at work, or in your personal life when a mistake or criticism made you freeze—or pushed you into overdrive. Perhaps it was being told you weren’t “good enough,” or a public failure that left you vowing to never feel that way again.
These moments create what I call emotional allergies. Just like we avoid allergens, we begin avoiding anything that might trigger those feelings of shame, embarrassment, or inadequacy. The tactic works to a point, but it also narrows our experience of life.
For me, the cost was years of pursuing achievements not because I loved them, but to protect myself from the threat of being seen as “less than.”
One of the most common compensatory strategies for ambitious, high-achieving women is the formation of the Superwoman sub-personality. She’s the one who says:
• “Work harder—no one can criticise if it’s perfect.”
• “Take on everything—show them how capable you are.”
• “Don’t stop—if you slow down, they might see your flaws.”
Superwoman can be incredibly useful, even admirable at times. But over-relying on her has a dark side. She operates from a reactive place, working beyond sustainable levels, and leading to exhaustion, burnout, and a disconnection from what truly matters.
One of the key drivers behind this Superwoman persona? Avoidance of shame. That internalised fear of being “not enough” drives her to overcompensate.
Where does this pattern show up in your life? Perhaps you pivot your career, avoid risks, or overwork yourself to avoid being criticised or exposed. These defence mechanisms, formed in childhood, may have served you once, but are they serving you now?
The truth is, Superwoman is only one part of who we are—a reactive part born out of old wounds. There are other, more empowering ways to lead and live, rooted not in fear but in authenticity, balance, and self-compassion.
Are you ready to move beyond Superwoman? It starts by recognising the shame that drives her and reconnecting with your full self.
Let’s continue this conversation. It’s time to heal, to grow, and to lead in a way that’s both powerful and sustainable.
• The origins of the Superwoman archetype and how it shows up in your life.
• The hidden costs of living in Superwoman’s “never enough” mode.
• Practical steps to move from exhaustion to balance, from external approval to inner confidence.
QUIRKY MOVIE - REAL WOMEN'S LEADERSHIP DILEMMAS
