The Jaguar in the Driveway: Why Women Detail the Car and Total the Engine

In my recent on-air segment on CNA938‘s The Wellness Hour with Cheryl Goh — Helping Women—and their Partners—Manage Burnout, Guilt, and Boundaries — I developed my talking points by asking myself the question nobody dares to ask out loud: Are modern women choosing to run themselves into the ground? My instinctive answer was No. But our biological blueprint, “The Gatherer,” and our drive to multitask and do it all at 100%, contribute directly to depleting our engine. A woman’s own Gatherer Wiring — the same instinct that once kept her alive and served society — refuses to switch off in a world that no longer rewards it.
Hence, how do we move from a Gatherer Mentality to a Jaguar Mindset?

To understand the Gatherer Mentality, look at the traditional Hunter-Gatherer blueprint—an ancient background app still actively running and driving our behavior today. Historically, this division of labor worked well. The man—the hunter—was responsible for securing food, safety, and shelter. He prepared for these moments throughout the year, using advanced strategy and calculated risk management. Short periods of intense stress were followed by times of calm and relaxation.
The woman—the gatherer—managed the vital, multi-track responsibilities of everyday life—everything on the menu: children, cooking, livestock, washing, cleaning, education, and relationships within the community. She was In Community with other women—which is a key point.

This “doing it all” culture is a modern epidemic, playing out on social media, on the big screen, and in a movie every woman is quietly directing in her own head. The shift is stark: from Rights—yes, we can—to No Choice—we must. The gatherer instinct and the ability to multitask were once a woman’s greatest survival strengths. In a world of never-ending chores and competitive upward comparison broadcast on media platforms, they’ve become her vulnerabilities.
Much of it plays out under a glass dome. We perform as if answering to an invisible panel, forgetting the standard is usually our own—outer validation mistaken for the inner kind. School attendance, classroom cookies, playdate counts, volunteer lists, and extra household chores: competitions we willingly enter.
The traps repeat: the Rice Bowl reality, where doing it all is an economic necessity, not a lifestyle; the High Achiever trap, where professional drive gets redirected onto domestic life until every sector is optimized with no release valveand the Boss-Boss trap: believing leadership means total, unilateral accountability for every crisis at home and at work without ever delegating—which is exactly what makes us short-tempered with a husband who never asked for this level of perfection. There’s a lesson sitting in our own living rooms: our husbands, and probably our dogs, have told us to stop and let things be. Did we listen, or brush it off? They’re not fighting us. They’re on our side.
This trap catches everyone: the high-achiever running an 18-hour marathon by choice, and the woman inside the Rice Bowl reality where a dual income isn’t optional. You cannot fix an impossible schedule by driving faster on it.

“Pusing pusing” — the Singlish expression for a short-circuiting mind — literally means the head is dizzy, overwhelmed, and refusing to turn off. It is the invisible labor of tracking everyone else’s needs until our own brains run out of bandwidth. It shows up as sleep that won’t come because our minds are still spinning, organizing tomorrow. It manifests as irritability, sudden tears, and a short temper over things that, examined honestly, are minor. It is a checked-out numbness—showing up because we have to, not because we want to.

When our minds are buzzing at 2:00 a.m., we are too wired to sleep but too tired to function. This short fuse is not a personal flaw. It is the biological tax of an internal engine that has been running with no scheduled stop; that’s mental overload.

Stress is temporary tension. Depletion is permanent. The test is simple: can we still return to baseline? Normal stress builds toward a deadline—we’re tired, anxious, pulling long nights—but once it’s managed, we rest and recognize ourselves again.
Depletion doesn’t replenish our energy sources. We stay continuously exhausted. A bad alternative starts to look tempting, and the thought of another repeating day wears on us. It isn’t the blues. It’s a progressive, quiet shift where we begin isolating and showing up only because we must.
Hans Selye (1978), the father of stress theory, defined stress as the body’s non-specific response to any demand placed on it—an alarm meant to mobilize energy for a temporary challenge, after which the system returns to balance. But when the alarm never shuts off, we experience genuine hopelessness and lose interest in the very things we used to enjoy. Years ago, a visitor to my U.S. clinic told me directly: “I think I just want to go to the hospital—to sleep, I mean, to rest, and for someone to bring me food.” When a hospital bed starts to look like a luxury vacation, we’re no longer just stressed. Our mental wellbeing is seriously compromised.

Self-preservation cannot wait. To honor our own high-value performance, we must upgrade our maintenance.
Consider the Singapore analogy: the high-performance vehicle. Cars are a high-value commodity, a six-figure investment easily escalating into seven-figure territory. They are kept in flawless condition day after day despite a mandatory clock ticking underneath the hood—ten-year expiration date called the Certificate of Entitlement (CEO). The gatherer instinct—for all its brilliance—holds us back from applying that same rigor to ourselves. We service the external asset with immaculate precision and run our own engine straight into burnout.
The gatherer archetype drives us to multitask, scan for threats, and collect responsibilities that were never ours—making it nearly impossible to stop, rotate the tires, and change the oil before the engine breaks. Recognizing the pattern is the first move. Shifting into the Jaguar Mindset—stillness, rest, self-protection—is the second. 

Spotting the eight liabilities of the Gatherer’s Trap is the first step to recalibrating before the engine breaks.

  • G — Gather: You automatically collect tasks, worries, and endless to-do lists.
  • A — Accumulate: You take on responsibilities that belong to other people.
  • T — Trap: You fall into constant multitasking, treating every demand as an absolute priority.
  • H — Hyper-vigilant: You operate in high-alert overdrive, scanning for problems and fixing everyone else’s crises.
    • Stop to Hire—Learn to Fire: You hire by accepting new responsibilities; you fire by actively scaling the load, delegating, and choosing No (Fire) over Yes (Hire).
  • E — Exhaust: You run your psychological and physical battery down to zero from non-stop scanning.
  • R — Rest Refusal: You reject your body’s baseline need for downtime, dismissing rest as an unaffordable luxury.
  • E — Erroneous Evaluation: You lose perspective, believing that if you stop scanning for one minute, your world will collapse.
    • The Fallout: This distortion triggers disordered Eating habits—too much, too little, too soon, or too late—surfacing alongside heightened stress, anxiety, and sleep disturbances.
  • R — Rest Deficit: You suffer from a compounding lack of recovery, leaving you completely unable to reset your system.

I love elegance, and there’s no cleaner symbol of it than the cat and the car: The Jaguar. In Singapore, cars are treated as a rare, expensive commodity—handled with respect and precision. That high-end standard belongs to you too.

  • J — Don’t jeopardize your engine. Just Breathe: Stop, and take three slow, deep breaths.
  • A — Accept: Let go of perfection. Good enough is enough.
  • G — Ground: Focus on your five senses to bring your mind back to the present. Ground by yourself; ground with your family.
  • U — Unburden: Delegate, say no, and drop what isn’t urgent.
  • A — Agility: Choose your lane. One lane. At work, be 100% (100% doesn’t look and feel the same each day) focused—at home, intentionally navigate the shifting roles that day demands, while remembering to be your own best friend.
  • R — Recharge: Protect your energy. Do one small thing solely for your own comfort or joy, separate from the demands of everyone else. 

Women manage external demands with immaculate precision while redlining their own engines to complete burnout. Turn off the genetic alarm, choose your lane, and become the Jaguar in your own driveway. — Dr. Iman Daniela Schreier

Selye, H. (1978). The stress of life (Rev. ed.). McGraw-Hill.

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