The Fixer
Or: You Can’t Make Everything Better
File this under, “advice I’ll be better at giving than taking.”
This won’t be easy to read for some: You can’t fix everything. I balk at the thought too. I understand there are some things I don’t have the power to repair; relations in the middle east, economic inflation, terminal illnesses, but everything else? Clearly I’m exaggerating, but not as much as I wish I was.
Wait, I’m a What?
I suppose I’ve always known it’s my nature to want to help. As a teacher, it’s my job. But I want to help colleagues too. I want to make their lives easier; help them navigate issues with students, parents, curriculum, administration, etc.. When a friend has a problem, I want to help them solve the issue, or at least get closer to a solution. Need a favor, an errand run, another set of hands for a task? I’m your man.
“You’re a fixer, and this can’t be fixed. Right now, there is nothing you can do, and that’s where your anxiety is coming from.” Insert a knowing look.
-My Therapist, Dave
You called me what? To make matters “worse,” in the crisis response training I attended last week, one trainer said, “many of you are fixers…” and I thought, “Okay he’s talking to me. I get what he’s saying, but at least I’m not alone.” Several heads in the audience nodded at his comment.
But that’s a good thing, right? If something is broken, it needs to be fixed.
Yes, but that’s not always what it’s about
And I know that. Sometimes it’s about just listening. Sometimes it’s about letting things play out and “being there” for the person with the problem. I’m 100% certain that’s true. And I like to think I’m good at that. But I’m not. I have to fight my natural inclination to offer advice, to share a story that shows I understand, to offer another perspective on a vexing situation. But sometimes it’s better to keep my mouth shut.
That is not generally how I’m described; as someone who keeps their mouth shut.
But if there are things I can offer — advice, perspective, options — why wouldn’t I do it? Why would I just let a problem lie unaddressed? I’m not saying I have the answers, but if I can offer anything at all, why wouldn’t I? Because sometimes a situation needs to run its course. Sometimes a person has to feel their way through it, come to answers on their own, or simply doesn’t want to hear it.
But, there’s a problem, and it needs fixed, right?
Yes, but it’s not my job
Oh boy. Then what is my job?
Nothing. Sometimes my job is to do nothing. My value as a friend, colleague, partner, family member, etc. is not based on how well I can help solve problems.
I’ll say that again (as much for me as for you.) My value as a person is not dependent on my ability to fix problems. This is true even when the problems are shared. I am not a character in a story with a specific role to play. I don’t have a job. Or rather, my job is friend, colleague, partner, or family member, and not “fixer.” Dave has helped me see that I’ve seen this as my job since I was a child. Whether it’s a role I stepped into voluntarily or one I filled because I figured someone needed to fill it, I was there when it seemed things needed fixed.
As I’m typing this, I get a text message from a dear friend who isn’t feeling particularly well. I offer sympathy, but my instinctive response is to say, “how can I help?” knowing full well there really isn’t anything I can do. My fingers hover over my phone. I don’t want to say, “Sorry to hear that,” and let it go at that. She might not know I’d fix, it if I could. She might think that’s a throwaway response.
And if I could understand why she’s not feeling well, or help her identify the source — if she doesn’t already know — I might be able to offer some kind of aid. I’ve even brainstormed a couple light-hearted responses that quietly wrap fixer suggestions in them; things I can’t actually provide, but the idea of might offer comfort. I just can’t help it. For now, I left it at asking why she wasn’t feeling well. It doesn’t matter, really. There’s nothing I can do for her at the moment. I can’t fix it.
And it isn’t my job. That’s not what she needs or wants from me and my value to her, her opinion of me, will not change if I don’t probe at it and try to help.
But she has a problem, and it needs fixed, right?
Yes, but sometimes there are more questions than answers
The problem with being compelled to fix things is that answers aren’t always readily available. In fact, for most problems, they’re not available at all; not right away. So, we ask questions. We might ask the person or people involved with the problem, but we definitely ask ourselves. It’s a lot of “what if-ing.” Dig for possible causes. Brainstorm possible paths the problem took. What about branches off those paths? Does each branch need a solution? Does one remedy cover all the symptoms or does it create others?
Enter anxiety. To the analytical, this sounds like research. And there is certainly a component of that to it. But when the answers lead only to more questions, the problem remains unfixed and you’ve created another one. Now, you have your own problem. Enter the words above of my erudite therapist.
A fixer who can’t fix something is spins in circles. He or she becomes an Energizer bunny, beating the drum relentlessly until, eventually, the battery runs out. Nothing is fixed and now you’re out of juice. Now you need fixed. And worse, in the process, you may have added to someone’s problem you were trying to fix or become someone else’s problem.
And when a situation is completely beyond your control, all you have are questions. All you have is the need to fix things that can’t be fixed, not by you at least. So where does that leave you? This is the part where I wrap up with words of wisdom, explain what I’ve discovered as the solution to viewing yourself as the fixer, right?
No
I’m sorry, but no. It’s something I’m working on; something I will continue to work on. The single word of wisdom I can offer is this: acceptance. We fixers need to learn to accept two things. First, problems exist that we can’t fix. Second, that’s okay.
Deep breaths? Stay distracted? Find another problem to work on? Sure. Maybe. For me, the biggest lesson, and one that is connected to a host of other anxieties and insecurities, is the one about it not being my job. If I can accept that, then the problems generated by being a fixer are on their way to being. fixed
Phillip Davis is the author of Peppermint Lightning, Jack-o-’Lightning, and Justice for the Missing. (Sequel coming in 2023!) He is also an elementary school teacher and mental-health advocate. He writes on the topics of writing, mental health, and self improvement.
