A Letter To All Who “Fix”
Please.Stop.Fixing.Us. We, the “fixees” beg you. Like salesmen, you come from the woodwork, eager to save us, the chronically ill, from ourselves. Like salesmen, your intentions are (mostly) good. The outcome is another story.Fixers, we love you– but you make us want to pull our faces off. Click To Tweet
Way back in the day, before we had a good grip on things like mental illness, my grandmother would get flustered and say, “That T.V. is so loud, I feel like I need a nerve pill.” I don’t know if my grandmother ever had a nerve pill in her lifetime, but I know that you make us want to give you one.
Us: “It’s a beautiful day out today.”
You: “It’s funny you should mention that because number three on my list of things I aim to fix about you is your current level of inactivity. Perhaps, you’d like to go for a walk?”
Everything we say or do is an invitation for “fixing.”
Fixers, I hate to tell you this, but you give yourselves away. Your conversations are filled with the fixing you are doing and hope to do in others. Yes, your cousin has already declined your wisdom on the merits of natural cleaning products around the house seven times, but surely the eighth time will do the trick. Fixing is always just outside of your reach and on your mind. Yes, your friend has already told you fourteen times she’d prefer to breastfeed on your girls weekend, even if it’s inconvenient in your eyes. But you will not be deterred. You will fix this. You will help her see how much easier bottle-feeding would be.
Nothing is beyond the realm of your expertise or would-be influence.
Precious fixer, we know you wish we did things differently. We know you wish we handled things more like you would. But we don’t. Let it go? Breathe. It’s not your job to fix us. It’s God’s. You can trust him with us. Let Go. You’ll feel so much freer. You may even look less like you need a nerve pill, whatever that is.
And if you should forget, let this wise young woman remind you: