Untamed: Glennon Doyle on the Cost of Being a Good Woman

POP CULTURE & TRAUMA • May 20, 2026

Last reviewed: June 2026 by Annie Wright, LMFT

The air in the arena was thick with the scent of popcorn and anticipation. A hush fell as the trainer led the cheetah out, sleek and powerful, yet strangely subdued. It moved with a practiced grace, jumping through hoops and responding to commands, a magnificent creature performing tricks for an admiring crowd. But something felt off. A subtle tension in its shoulders, a flicker in its eyes that spoke of something wild held captive. Glennon Doyle, sitting in the audience, felt it too, a deep, visceral recognition that this domesticated animal mirrored a profound truth about herself, and about so many women. This scene, early in her memoir Untamed, isn’t just a powerful metaphor; it’s a direct portal into the core wound of “good woman conditioning” that resonates deeply with the experiences of countless individuals I’ve worked with in my practice.

Before we dive in, a quick ethical note: this article contains spoilers for Glennon Doyle’s memoir, Untamed. My aim is to explore the book’s themes through a trauma-informed lens, offering insights into how its narrative intersects with clinical understanding of healing and personal growth. I approach this work with deep respect for Doyle’s story and the impact it has had on readers, and I encourage you to read the book for yourself if you haven’t already. You might even consider pairing it with my Trauma Memoirs Reader’s Companion Guide for a deeper, more reflective experience.

In short: Untamed maps the psychological cost of ‘good woman’ conditioning, showing how suppressing authentic desire functions as a chronic trauma response rooted in attachment fear.

The Cheetah at the Zoo

The image of the cheetah, trained to perform, yet still yearning for its wild nature, is the central metaphor of Untamed. It’s a metaphor that, for many, doesn’t just resonate; it *hurts*. It hurts because it exposes a truth we often try to bury: the ways in which we, as women, have been conditioned to suppress our authentic selves, to trade our wildness for acceptance, love, and safety. This isn’t a new idea, of course. Feminists and psychologists have been exploring the societal pressures on women for decades. But Doyle’s articulation, particularly through the lens of her own raw, honest experience, strikes a nerve that feels both ancient and acutely contemporary.

The “good woman” archetype is insidious. It promises love, security, and belonging in exchange for conformity. It teaches us to be agreeable, selfless, quiet, and pleasing. It tells us that our value lies in our ability to anticipate and fulfill the needs of others, often at the expense of our own. The problem, as Doyle so eloquently illustrates, is that this conditioning doesn’t just ask us to *act* a certain way; it asks us to *become* a certain way, to internalize these expectations until they feel like our own desires. We become so adept at performing “goodness” that we lose touch with what our true, untamed selves actually want, feel, and need. This is the core of the people-pleasing pattern, and it’s a pattern I see consistently in my clinical work, especially with driven individuals who have learned that their worth is tied to their productivity and their ability to keep everyone else happy.

The pain comes from the recognition that we’ve been living a life that isn’t entirely our own. It’s the ache of a suppressed intuition, the quiet whisper of a desire ignored, the dull throb of a boundary never set. It’s the realization that the domestication, while perhaps offering a sense of safety, has come at the cost of our vitality, our joy, and our deepest sense of self. Doyle’s book doesn’t just point out the cage; it points to the wildness still alive within us, stirring beneath the surface, desperate to break free. And for many, that stirring is both terrifying and exhilarating.

What Doyle Names About the “Good Woman” Conditioning

Doyle’s narrative in Untamed is a masterclass in illustrating the pervasive nature of people-pleasing. She describes her own journey of trying to be the “perfect” wife, mother, and Christian leader, constantly seeking external validation and approval. This isn’t just about being polite; it’s a deep-seated survival strategy, often rooted in early experiences where one’s safety or belonging felt contingent on meeting others’ expectations. When we grow up in environments where our authentic expression is met with disapproval, withdrawal, or even punishment, we learn very quickly to adapt. We learn to read the room, anticipate needs, and mold ourselves into what we perceive others want us to be. This is a common thread in the experiences of individuals who have endured relational trauma or grew up in families with complex dynamics.

What Untamed illuminates so powerfully is that people-pleasing isn’t a flaw in character; it’s a trauma response. It’s a sophisticated defense mechanism developed to navigate environments where being oneself felt unsafe. Doyle’s journey of disentangling herself from these patterns involves a radical act of self-trust: listening to her “Knowing.” This “Knowing” is not logical or rational; it’s an intuitive, embodied wisdom that often speaks in whispers, contradicting the loud demands of external expectations. It’s the feeling in her gut, the quiet certainty that something is off, even when everything on the surface appears “right.”

This concept of “Knowing” is crucial for understanding how to move beyond people-pleasing. It’s about reconnecting with our internal compass, which has often been overridden by years of external programming. In my therapy practice, I often guide clients to identify these subtle internal cues, the tension in their shoulders when they’re about to say “yes” to something they don’t want, the sinking feeling in their stomach when they’re ignoring their own needs. These aren’t just random physical sensations; they are the body’s way of communicating our truth, our “Knowing,” before our minds have even caught up. Doyle’s memoir gives permission to trust these internal signals, even when they lead to uncomfortable or unconventional choices, ultimately leading to a more authentic and fulfilling life.

The Clinical Pattern Beneath the Story

From a clinical perspective, Doyle’s journey in Untamed maps directly onto several well-understood psychological patterns, particularly those related to trauma and attachment. The “good woman” conditioning she describes is a form of socialized betrayal trauma,a betrayal of self, often learned through subtle and overt messages from family, culture, and institutions. When we are taught that our worth is contingent on our performance for others, we internalize a profound sense of conditional self-worth. This can lead to what clinicians call an “external locus of control,” where our sense of self and safety is primarily derived from external validation rather than internal knowing.

The process of “domestication” described in the book is, in essence, the suppression of our authentic self in favor of an adapted self. This adapted self is highly skilled at reading social cues, anticipating needs, and maintaining harmony, but it comes at a significant cost. Over time, this can lead to chronic anxiety, depression, burnout, and a pervasive sense of emptiness or unfulfillment. The body, in its wisdom, often holds onto this suppressed truth, manifesting as physical symptoms like chronic pain, fatigue, or digestive issues. This is why Doyle’s emphasis on listening to her body, to her “Knowing,” is so clinically resonant. It’s a journey of re-establishing interoceptive awareness, the ability to sense and interpret internal bodily signals, which is a cornerstone of trauma recovery.

Moreover, the book touches on the concept of being a “cycle breaker.” Doyle’s decision to live authentically, even when it disrupts her established life and challenges her children’s preconceived notions, is a powerful act of breaking generational patterns. Many of my clients come to therapy because they recognize that they are repeating patterns from their families of origin, patterns of people-pleasing, self-sacrifice, or emotional suppression. They want to create a different legacy for themselves and their children. Doyle’s story provides a roadmap, albeit a messy and challenging one, for how to navigate this profound work. It shows that breaking cycles isn’t about villainizing the past or those who came before us, but about choosing a different path for the future, one rooted in truth and self-integrity. For more on this, you might explore my Cycle Breaker Pop Culture Library.

How This Shows Up in Driven Women: Nadia’s Story

Nadia, a brilliant and accomplished marketing executive in her late thirties, sat across from me, her posture impeccable, her voice calm and measured. On paper, she had everything: a successful career, a loving partner, two bright children, and a beautiful home. Yet, beneath the polished exterior, she felt a gnawing emptiness, a constant fatigue that no amount of sleep could alleviate. She described her days as a relentless series of obligations: client meetings where she anticipated every need, school volunteer work she felt compelled to take on, social engagements she dreaded but never declined. “I feel like I’m constantly performing,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “Like I’m playing a role, but I don’t even know who the real Nadia is anymore.”

Nadia’s story is a classic example of “good woman conditioning” manifesting in a driven, capable individual. From a young age, she learned that her intelligence and helpfulness were her tickets to approval. Her parents, both busy professionals, praised her for being “easy” and “responsible.” She quickly internalized the message that her value was tied to her ability to manage everything, to make others comfortable, and to never cause a fuss. This led to an extraordinary work ethic and a remarkable ability to anticipate the needs of her colleagues and clients, propelling her career forward. But it also meant she rarely, if ever, asked for what *she* needed. She consistently over-delivered, under-slept, and silenced her own desires, believing that her self-worth was directly proportional to her self-sacrifice.

When I asked Nadia what she truly wanted, her eyes welled up. “I don’t know,” she confessed. “I feel like I’ve spent my whole life figuring out what everyone else wants, and I’ve forgotten how to hear my own voice.” This is the profound cost of domestication: the loss of one’s inner compass, the inability to access that “Knowing” that Glennon Doyle speaks of. Nadia’s body was speaking to her, the chronic headaches, the digestive issues, the persistent anxiety, but she had learned to override these signals, to push through, to keep performing the role of the “good woman” who had it all together. Her journey in coaching involved slowly, gently, re-learning to listen to those whispers, to identify her own needs, and to set boundaries, even when it felt terrifying to disappoint others. It was a process of reclaiming her untamed self, one small, courageous choice at a time.

What the Trauma Researchers Help Us Name

The insights offered by Glennon Doyle, while deeply personal, are powerfully supported by decades of trauma research. What Doyle calls “domestication” and the suppression of “Knowing” aligns directly with clinical understandings of how trauma impacts the nervous system and our capacity for self-regulation and authentic expression. Researchers like Bessel van der Kolk, MD, a psychiatrist and trauma researcher, author of The Body Keeps the Score, emphasizes that trauma is not just a story we tell about the past; it’s an imprint on the body. When we are forced to adapt to unsafe or demanding environments by suppressing our true selves, our nervous system remains in a state of chronic activation or shutdown. The “fight, flight, freeze, or fawn” responses become ingrained, and for many “good women,” fawning (people-pleasing) becomes the primary survival strategy.

Judith Herman, MD, a psychiatrist and trauma researcher, author of Trauma and Recovery, speaks extensively about the impact of complex trauma on identity and self-perception. She highlights how survivors often develop a fragmented sense of self, struggling to integrate their authentic experiences with the roles they’ve had to play. The journey of healing, then, involves reclaiming these fragmented parts, integrating them into a cohesive self, and re-establishing a sense of agency and self-trust. Doyle’s process of listening to her “Knowing” is precisely this, a radical act of self-reclamation, trusting her internal compass over external voices, even when those voices represent deeply ingrained societal norms or religious doctrines.

Furthermore, Peter Levine, PhD, developer of Somatic Experiencing, and Patricia Ogden, PhD, founder of Sensorimotor Psychotherapy, have revolutionized our understanding of how trauma is stored in the body and how vital it is to engage the body in the healing process. Doyle’s “Knowing” is a perfect example of interoception, the eighth sense that allows us to perceive internal bodily states. When we are disconnected from our bodies, we lose access to this crucial information. Trauma-informed therapies often focus on helping clients rebuild this interoceptive awareness, allowing them to feel safe enough to listen to their body’s signals again. This isn’t about intellectual understanding; it’s about embodied experience. It’s about feeling the subtle shifts, the tension, the relaxation, the gut feelings, and learning to trust them as valuable data points for navigating life. The path to becoming untamed, then, is inextricably linked to becoming embodied.

Both/And: Holding Truth and Compassion Together

One of the most profound lessons from Untamed, especially when viewed through a trauma-informed lens, is the necessity of holding both truth and compassion simultaneously. Doyle’s journey is not about vilifying her past self, her ex-husband, or the institutions she once believed in. Instead, it’s about acknowledging her truth, her deep, undeniable “Knowing”,while also extending compassion to all the parts of herself that led her to where she was. She doesn’t present her marriage or her previous life as a mistake to be regretted, but as a necessary part of her path, a container that held her until she was ready to expand beyond it. This nuanced perspective is vital for healing.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”. Maya Angelou, poet and memoirist.

In my therapy work, I often see clients struggling with the impulse to judge their past decisions or to demonize those who may have contributed to their pain. While anger and grief are valid emotions that need to be processed, true healing involves moving beyond a purely adversarial stance. It requires the capacity to say, “This was my truth then, and this is my truth now,” without shame or self-recrimination. It means recognizing that the “good woman” we once were was a survival mechanism, a deeply intelligent adaptation to circumstances. We can honor the function that adaptation served, even as we choose to shed it for a more authentic way of being.

Doyle’s story of navigating her divorce and her new relationship with Abby Wambach without creating villains is particularly instructive. It models a way of breaking cycles that doesn’t rely on blame, but on radical honesty and self-responsibility. This “both/and” approach, holding the truth of one’s own desires while maintaining compassion for the complexities of human relationships, is the hallmark of mature, trauma-informed healing. It allows for profound personal transformation without necessarily destroying everything in its wake. It’s about building a new foundation, not just tearing down the old one. My Fixing the Foundations^™ course is designed to help individuals do exactly this: identify old patterns, understand their origins, and build new, healthier ways of relating to themselves and others.

The Systemic Lens: Why This Wound Is Not Just Personal

While Untamed is a deeply personal memoir, its resonance stems from the fact that the “good woman” wound is not merely an individual failing; it’s a systemic one. The conditioning Doyle describes is woven into the fabric of many cultures, religions, and social structures. From childhood, girls are often praised for being compliant, nurturing, and agreeable, while boys are encouraged to be assertive, independent, and competitive. These gendered expectations, while seemingly benign, create a profound imbalance in how individuals are taught to relate to their own needs and desires.

Consider the messages embedded in media, advertising, and even fairy tales: women are often depicted as finding happiness through self-sacrifice for a partner or family. The “heroine’s journey” often involves enduring hardship for the sake of others, rather than embarking on a quest for self-discovery. This pervasive cultural narrative reinforces the idea that a woman’s worth is derived from her ability to serve, to soothe, and to maintain harmony, rather than from her inherent being or her independent pursuits. This is why books like Untamed, or even Jennette McCurdy’s I’m Glad My Mom Died (which I discuss in my article on maternal narcissism), hit so hard, they expose the cracks in these carefully constructed narratives.

The systemic nature of this conditioning means that healing is not just about individual therapy; it’s also about challenging and dismantling these oppressive structures. It’s about creating spaces where women are encouraged to listen to their “Knowing,” to set boundaries, to pursue their passions, and to define their own worth, independent of external validation. It’s about recognizing that when a woman reclaims her untamed self, she isn’t just healing herself; she’s sending ripples of change through her family, her community, and potentially, the broader culture. This is the essence of being a cycle breaker: recognizing that personal transformation has collective impact. It’s a powerful act of resistance against a system that profits from our domestication.

What Healing Can Look Like: Maya’s Story

Maya, a vibrant and talented architect, came to me feeling utterly depleted. She loved her work, but every project felt like a battle against her own perfectionism and an overwhelming need to please her demanding clients and partners. She described a constant internal monologue of self-criticism, telling her she wasn’t good enough, that she needed to work harder, that she couldn’t afford to make a mistake. This internal pressure was exacerbated by an external reality where she often found herself doing extra work, taking on unreasonable deadlines, and rarely delegating, all to maintain her reputation as the “go-to” person.

Maya’s “good woman” conditioning stemmed from a childhood where her parents, immigrants who had sacrificed greatly, instilled in her a deep sense of responsibility and the belief that her success was a reflection on the entire family. She learned that excellence, hard work, and never complaining were the keys to their approval and her own security. While these traits propelled her to the top of her field, they also left her exhausted and disconnected from her own desires. She rarely took vacations, her relationships often felt strained by her constant preoccupation with work, and she found herself resenting the very success she had so diligently built.

In our therapy sessions, Maya began a profound journey of rediscovering her “Knowing.” We started with small, tangible steps. I encouraged her to pay attention to her body’s signals: the tightness in her jaw when she was about to agree to an impossible deadline, the shallow breathing when she felt overwhelmed. Instead of immediately saying “yes,” we practiced pausing, taking a breath, and checking in with her internal experience. This was incredibly challenging for her at first; the fear of disappointing others was deeply ingrained. But slowly, she began to trust these internal cues. She started saying “no” to non-essential requests, delegating tasks, and even taking short breaks during the workday, something she had previously considered a luxury she couldn’t afford.

One pivotal moment came when a major client made an unreasonable demand that would have required Maya to work through a planned family vacation. Her old pattern would have been to find a way to make it work, sacrificing her own well-being for the client’s satisfaction. But this time, she paused. She felt the familiar knot in her stomach, but instead of pushing past it, she listened. She realized her “Knowing” was screaming, “Enough!” With newfound courage, she calmly and professionally explained her boundaries, offering alternative solutions that didn’t compromise her time off. To her surprise, the client respected her decision. This experience was a powerful affirmation: her worth was not dependent on her constant availability or self-sacrifice. Maya was learning to be untamed, not by abandoning her responsibilities, but by reclaiming her right to self-care, to boundaries, and to her own inner wisdom. Her journey, much like Glennon Doyle’s, was about finding her wildness within the structure of her life, not outside of it. It’s a testament to the power of trusting that inner voice, even when it feels like a radical act of rebellion. If you’re ready to explore your own “Knowing” and break free from old patterns, I encourage you to connect with me or explore my quiz to see where you might be on your own healing journey.

Related Reading

• Doyle, Glennon. Untamed. New York: The Dial Press, 2020.
• Herman, Judith Lewis. Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence, From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. New York: Basic Books, 1992.
• Levine, Peter A. Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma. Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books, 1997.
• Van der Kolk, Bessel A. The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. New York: Viking, 2014.

References

Peer-Reviewed Research (Vancouver)

1. Cloitre M, Stolbach BC, Herman JL, van der Kolk B, Pynoos R, Wang J, et al. A developmental approach to complex PTSD: childhood and adult cumulative trauma as predictors of symptom complexity. J Trauma Stress. 2009;22(5):399-408. doi:10.1002/jts.20444. PMID: 19795402.
2. Payne P, Levine PA, Crane-Godreau MA. Somatic experiencing: using interoception and proprioception as core elements of trauma therapy. Front Psychol. 2015;6:93. doi:10.3389/fpsyg.2015.00093. PMID: 25699005.
3. van der Kolk BA, Wang JB, Yehuda R, Bedrosian L, Coker AR, Harrison C, et al. Effects of MDMA-assisted therapy for PTSD on self-experience. PLoS One. 2024;19(1):e0295926. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0295926. PMID: 38198456.

Books & Cultural Sources (Chicago Author-Date)

• Angelou, Maya. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. Random House, 1969.