When the Fixer Needs Fixing

Are you the one everyone comes to when something happens? Do you find yourself trying to solve everyone else’s problems, but don’t have a clue how to solve your own? If so, you might be a fixer. But what happens when the fixer needs fixing?

There is nothing wrong with being a helper. For some of us, that is our purpose in life. We say, “I just want to help people.” We become the helper for our family and friends. Sometimes, we even take jobs in helping professions. We are caretakers, nurses, educators, community health workers, counselors, coaches—wherever there’s a need, we show up.

Helping gives us a sense of fulfillment. It feels good to see the impact of our support on someone else. That can be a beautiful thing. But truth be told, sometimes we do it for selfish reasons—like recognition. Sometimes we do it because we don’t want to look into our own gardens, because sorting through our own mess feels unbearable.

While being a fixer can be rewarding, we must not ignore our own repair needs. Self-care is critical. I always say: you can’t pour from an empty cup. When too many people and things are plugged into you, you can short-circuit. Then everything goes haywire, and nothing gets resolved.

The danger of being a fixer is that we often don’t ask for help. We could be bleeding out on a sidewalk and still refuse to part our lips to ask for a Band-Aid.

That has been my greatest struggle. Somewhere deep inside, I equate asking for help with failure. Maybe it’s because I don’t want to face the disappointment of being let down when I need it. Maybe it’s because I think people close to me should already know I need help. Maybe I expect people to be mind readers. But people aren’t mind readers. And when you look like you have it all together, they assume that you do.

Exposing your vulnerable side can feel like letting people down. You imagine they’ll say, “Look at Ms. Positive—always giving advice but can’t handle her own business.” But what’s wrong with that? We are all human. Being positive, trusting in God, and leaning on faith does not mean we’re exempt from life’s struggles.

That’s why we must learn to take the “S” off our chest. We are not superhuman—we’re just human. Life ebbs and flows. Sometimes the waters will rush over us and the tides will feel like we’re about to drown. Life was never meant to be a cakewalk. Into every life, rain will fall. Just keep on living. The testimony is not in the test, but in how we get through it.

I believe with my whole heart that no matter what life brings, God will see me through. I’ve had times when I thought the storm would overtake me, when I felt like I couldn’t take one more breath. Life was life-ing so hard that I wanted to give up. The walls felt like they had closed in, leaving no room for my chest to expand. And yet, without even realizing when or how, I found myself on the other side of that wall. For me, only God can bring those kinds of miracles. Don’t give up before your miracle happens.

The other day, I told some women about Job in the Bible. Job was minding his own faithful business when the devil came looking for trouble—and God Himself invited the challenge. Job didn’t do anything wrong. And what a challenge it was. Job lost everything, yet his faith never failed.

We are often quick to believe that trials mean we’ve done something wrong or are being punished. But maybe, just maybe, we were chosen because God believed we would pass the test. And when we look at it that way, we stop saying “Why me, God?” and start saying “Try me, God.”

As a world-class fixer, I’ve learned that when I quiet the noise in my head and ask myself, “If this was my last moment, what would truly matter?” the answer is never a list of things to fix. It’s always love. Faith, family, and love. Nothing is worth stressing ourselves into an early grave.

Sometimes, when we release the things we’re clenching so tightly, the weight becomes lighter. We see more clearly. We breathe easier. Life isn’t as complicated as we make it. We pray for “all the things,” then stress about keeping “all the things.” But the truth is—the only thing the fixer really needs is the one thing that can never be taken: God.

So, thank You, Lord, for being my fixer. Thank You for reminding me that I don’t have to carry all the tools or hold all the answers. I only need to know the One who does.