A couple of women I recognize, from a book by Wendell Berry:
The female world turned on an axis held at one pole by Aunt Judith and at the other by Minnie Branch--Aunt Judith, with her bred-in dependency, her sometimes helplessness, ill with fright and self-regard, childless and forever needy; and Minnie, who was fearless, capable, hardy, fecund, unabashed, without apology or appeal. Minnie could cook and keep house for what amounted to a small hotel, split firewood, butcher a hog, raise a garden, work in the field, shoot a fox, set a hen or wring her neck.
I have little in common with either of these characters, but I act often out of fear of being as weak as Aunt Judith and desire to be as invincible as Minnie Branch. Imaging myself always in terms of these two poles makes me constantly dissatisfied and a little crazy.