When “I just don’t know how” starts to feel like control: spotting weaponized incompetence
If you've ever found yourself rushing around unloading the dishwasher, packing the lunches, and throwing in a load of laundry while your partner relaxes on the couch, claiming they "didn't know what needed to be done," you’re not imagining things. That irritation? It’s not just about chores. It’s about feeling like someone else is opting out, and you're left carrying the weight.
I recently contributed to a Scary Mommy article about weaponized incompetence—that frustrating, often gendered pattern where someone avoids tasks by pretending not to know how to do them. In this post, I want to go deeper into what that dynamic feels like in relationships, how to spot it, and how therapy can help shift the pattern.
What the article gets right (that often surprises people)
One of the strongest things about the Scary Mommy piece is how clearly it names the pattern: it’s not incompetence — it’s choosing not to show up. It helps people realize that when someone can do the tasks (especially when alone), but refuses or sabotages them when requested, that’s a red flag.
Phrases like:
“I don’t know where you put it”
“You don’t like how I do it”
Repeated “mistakes” that seem deliberate
These patterns trap the person doing the extra labor into taking it all on by training you to just absorb the workload. And you can read more about them in the piece.
What the article doesn’t fully capture (from a therapist’s lens)
As helpful as the article is, I often find in therapy that it’s not just about calling someone out—it’s about the story behind why this happens, and the emotional cost.
1. The moral injury of constantly cleaning up after someone. When you're always the one doing things “right” (or your way), frustration builds. You may feel unseen, resentful, or like your boundaries don’t matter.
2. The difference between gaps vs. patterns. Everyone has tasks they’re less confident at. Real incompetence invites questions, effort, and gradual improvement. Weaponized incompetence is a pattern that avoids growth. In therapy, one of our jobs is sorting out which is which and healing the shame that often hides behind “I’m bad at X.”
3. The relational logic underneath. Sometimes, the partner who wields this is unconsciously testing: “Will they rescue me?” or “Do they care enough to absorb my shortcomings?” It can become a power dance. Addressing it requires more than complaining. It requires new relational contracts, clearer boundaries, and mutual accountability.
What shows up in therapy (and what can shift)
In my work with couples and individuals, I often see a few recurring themes:
“I don’t want to be that partner.” You fear coming across as rigid or controlling. So you pull back, absorb the labor, and stay quiet until resentments crater your peace.
Perfectionist self‑criticism. You end up doing more because you fear letting someone else “mess it up.” But the cost is burnout and self‑erasure.
Tethered negotiations. Conversations about chores become emotional mines (“You don’t appreciate me,” “You always take over”), rather than functional issue-solving.
Therapy offers a space to do more than recognize the behavior. We can:
Name what’s hidden (e.g. “When you say ‘I can’t,’ I feel like you’re asking me to carry it alone”)
Practice new scripts and relational contracts (not just “you fix this or else,” but “here’s how we decide together”)
Explore the emotional undercurrents such as fear of failure, identity, and control that fuel weaponized incompetence
Shift from reactive “calls out” to proactive agreements: who does what, how, and what happens when something goes off track
Beyond tips: cultivating relational integrity
One thing I often encourage clients to try is a “relational audit.” Once a month (or quarterly), you and your partner sit down—not to argue—but to assess:
What roles feel unfair?
Where is someone overstepping or under-delivering?
What parts of our agreement aren’t working anymore?
You can reinterpret chores as relational promises, not just tasks. When you reclaim chores from resentment to contracts, the dynamic shifts. In that place, weaponized incompetence loses its power.
If reading this feels familiar, you are not alone. The pattern hides in plain sight, because it often masquerades as laziness or incapacity. But it’s deeply relational.
In therapy, we don’t just call out the behavior, we excavate how you got here, what wound it plays into, and how you feel about demanding equity. You don’t have to carry this alone. If you want support unpacking this in your own relationship, my door is open.
Want to talk this through or explore more about parenting dynamics?
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