Who am I if nobody needs me?
I’ve been asking myself that more than I’d like to admit.
Recently, I felt myself carrying a lot: prep for back-to-school, one last summer trip to California. I spent weeks coordinating with other parents for my kids’ social lives, booking flights, hotels, rental cars, child care, and a dog hotel.
My husband laughed and thanked me for making the whole thing “husband-proof.”
If I’m completely honest, a little resentment came up after that comment. And I’m also really proud.
I mean, I probably didn’t need to go to business school to master operations and project management to the extent that I’ve perfected it running our family life. And I know I’m not the only one.
Most of the women listening have also personally earned a master’s in systems and operations management, whether anyone ever handed you the diploma or not.
The level of executive function we operate at every day, just to be a mom and a doctor, is extraordinary.
It shows up at work too, if I’m honest. The same brain that runs the color-coded family calendar is the one running your unit or your department.
I have a client going through this exact thing right now, a few rungs up into a bigger leadership role, more vision, less doing, and she told me the hardest part isn’t the new job. It’s that she still loves the old one.
She keeps catching herself sliding back into fixing things herself instead of letting her team take care of them, because she’s good at it, she’s always been good at it. That’s the whole problem, for her and for me.
Right now, I’m actually staying at my best friend’s house. We’re managing the lives of our four kids together this week, plus our highly flexible careers, thank God, and it’s kind of magical watching all the Tetris pieces fall into place.
Two women’s brains working in tandem, speaking the same color-coded-calendar language.
But here’s the intrusive thought that keeps surfacing for me: who would I be, what would I do, if they didn’t need me?
That’s the whole point, right? We want to raise them to be responsible, respectful, kind, independent adults, so that eventually they don’t need us. But then there’s this space that gets left behind.
Gaping. Wide open.
Who am I once everything’s delegated? What do I do?
Realizing I actually love being depended on, being the reliable one, is an honest thing to admit.
Blending that with what I actually want for my kids, and with how much of it my mental load and my physical time can actually tolerate while I maintain health and balance for myself, as a woman and as a human, is the more important part.
I think this is where the balance lives: growing their independence and resilience, while I let go of some of my own expertise in running things, in a way I can actually sustain.
To find that balance, I think I need to offload responsibilities to them, on purpose. And not just chores.
- social planning
- summer excursions
- navigating airports and cities
- screen time, phones, and diets
It’s still a long way off, but handing over the mental load tied to each of these things, over the next few years, feels like a real parenting priority… and opportunity.
Then what? What part of me fills that gap once everything’s delegated? What part of you?
I’ve been thinking about this in less concrete terms for a while now.
I started playing tennis this summer, mostly so I could keep up with my son. Then I found out there’s a weekly women’s clinic at our club, and now I’ve got a whole new group of women in my life.
I also, somehow, learned to play mahjong. I’m still not sure the game is for me, but I understand the cult following.
I can be proud of the insane Tetris I juggle running my family, and still hand pieces of it off, on purpose, and still feel whole. That’s the thing I’m reaching for.
So I’ll leave you with the same question I’m sitting with: what are you still holding onto because you’re good at it, not because it still belongs to you? And what would you actually do with the space if you let it go?
If you’d like to be part of this conversation, I’d love to have you on my email list, where these half-finished thoughts get to keep unfolding.
You can join at womenmdleaders.com/join.
I’m Dr. Stephanie Yamout — thank you for listening, and for leading with heart.