In this article Why I Stopped Trying to Fix Everyone — And Started Fixing Myself we will talk about when i stopped focusing on everybody else and started focusing on myself what happened.
There was a time when I felt like it was my responsibility to hold everything together.
If someone was sad — I tried to cheer them up.
If a friend was spiraling — I stayed up all night trying to “save” them.
If someone I cared about made the same mistake again and again…
I thought it was my job to help them change.
And honestly?
It felt good for a while.
It made me feel needed. Important. Like I had a purpose.
But what I didn’t realize was…
While I was trying to fix everyone else, I was quietly breaking inside.
The Trap of Being the “Fixer”
It starts innocently.
You just want to help. You want people to be okay.
Especially the ones you love.
You become the one who always listens.
Always gives advice.
Always stays calm even when your own world is falling apart.
But soon, it becomes a pattern.
And suddenly — you’re not helping anymore. You’re absorbing.
Their pain. Their chaos. Their burdens.
You start to believe that if you don’t show up for them…
Everything will collapse.
That without you, they’ll spiral.
That it’s selfish to put yourself first.
But here’s the truth:
You can’t rescue people who don’t want to change.
You can’t heal someone who’s not ready.
And you can’t fix a relationship by slowly destroying yourself in the process.
How It Started to Break Me
I didn’t notice it at first.
But the signs were there.
- I was always tired — emotionally, mentally, even physically.
- I started dreading phone calls and texts.
- I felt guilty for wanting space.
- I was constantly anxious — like I was waiting for someone to fall apart again, so I could rush in and “save” them.
I became resentful. Quietly.
I didn’t tell anyone.
I just smiled. Nodded. Offered advice. Listened. Again. And again.
But inside, I was burnt out.
And the worst part?
No one even noticed.
Because I never told them.
Because I didn’t know how to ask for help.
Because I thought being strong meant never breaking — especially not in front of others.
The Moment I Realized It Wasn’t My Job
It happened during one of those long, exhausting calls.
A close friend was crying — again — about the same thing I’d helped her with a dozen times before.
I listened.
I gave the same gentle advice.
She ignored it.
Then blamed herself.
Then blamed others.
And I just sat there… feeling completely invisible.
Not because I wasn’t heard.
But because I didn’t exist in that moment.
My feelings. My energy. My time.
None of it mattered.
And for the first time…
I hung up the call feeling angry. Not at her — but at myself.
Because I realized:
I had built my entire identity around being someone else’s emotional safety net.
And that wasn’t love.
That was self-neglect.
What I Did Instead (Focusing Inward)
That night, I didn’t cry.
I didn’t journal.
I didn’t try to make sense of anything.
I just sat in silence — and decided something had to change.
Here’s what I slowly began doing over the next few weeks:
- I stopped giving advice unless someone truly asked and was ready for it.
- I learned to listen without trying to fix.
- I let people have their own struggles — without stepping in.
- I paid attention to how I felt after conversations.
- If something left me drained, I took it as a red flag.
I didn’t make any big announcements.
I didn’t blame anyone.
I just shifted the energy inward — towards myself.
How My Life Changed When I Let Go
It didn’t happen overnight.
Letting go of that fixer identity felt like losing a part of me.
For a while, I felt guilty. Detached. Even selfish.
But slowly…
I felt lighter.
I started spending time doing things I loved — without checking my phone every 5 minutes.
I set boundaries — and stuck to them.
I stopped apologizing for not being available 24/7.
I started healing the parts of me that always felt “responsible” for everyone else’s happiness.
And most importantly —
I started showing up for myself.
The same way I used to show up for others.
Real-Life Example: The Friend I Let Go Of
There was someone I used to be extremely close to.
For years, I was her emotional support system.
Breakups. Job loss. Family fights. Insecurities. Trauma. You name it.
And every time she was okay again, she disappeared.
Until the next storm hit.
Then came back — expecting me to be right there, holding her together.
One day, I just… didn’t reply.
Not out of anger. But because I had nothing left to give.
It hurt like hell.
But the peace I felt afterward? Unmatched.
She never checked in on me again.
And I realized — some people don’t want help.
They want dependence.
And I no longer wanted to be someone people only reached out to when their world was falling apart.
Small Things I Started Doing Differently
If you’re someone who feels like the emotional “fixer” in your life, here’s what helped me step out of that role without guilt:
🌱 1. I Created Emotional Space
I didn’t respond to every message right away.
I took time to ask: “Do I have the energy for this conversation right now?”
💬 2. I Practiced Saying “I Don’t Know What to Say, But I’m Here”
Sometimes, that’s all people need.
You don’t have to fix them.
Just be present.
🛑 3. I Stopped Offering Solutions
Unless someone directly asked for advice — I let them vent without trying to “solve” it.
📵 4. I Took Phone Breaks
Being constantly reachable was draining.
I turned off notifications and reclaimed my time.
💌 5. I Talked to Myself Like a Friend
Instead of beating myself up for not being “helpful,” I reminded myself:
You matter too.
What You Can Try Too (Actionable Tips)
If this post resonates with you, and you’re ready to start fixing yourself instead of others, here are a few gentle steps to begin with:
1. Reflect Without Blame
Ask yourself:
- Why do I feel the need to fix people?
- What part of me believes I must?
Awareness is step one.
2. Set Emotional Boundaries
It’s okay to say:
“I’m not in the right headspace to talk about this right now.”
That’s not selfish. That’s healthy.
3. Get Comfortable with Discomfort
Watching someone struggle — and not stepping in — is hard.
But sometimes, that’s exactly what they need to grow.
4. Focus on Your Healing
Journal. Rest. Walk. Create. Cry. Laugh.
Start pouring all that care you used to give away — back into yourself.
5. Surround Yourself with People Who Also Give
The more you heal, the more you’ll attract relationships that feel balanced, not one-sided.
The Deepest Truth I’ve Learned
Trying to fix people all the time is often a distraction.
A way to avoid fixing ourselves.
A way to feel worthy, needed, important — without having to face our own broken parts.
But the real healing?
It begins when we turn inward.
When we stop outsourcing our identity as a helper…
And start seeing our own worth outside of what we do for others.
Final Thoughts (Written Like a Diary)
I’m still learning.
Some days, I fall into old patterns.
I still feel that pull — to help, to fix, to rescue.
But now, I pause.
And I ask myself:
“Am I doing this out of love… or out of fear?”
Most of the time, the answer tells me everything I need to know.
Because the truth is —
The people who truly love you won’t need you to break just to hold them together.
And the people you truly love?
They’ll grow more when you let them face their storms alone — instead of always running in with an umbrella.
FAQs
1. Why do I always feel like it’s my job to fix everyone?
I don’t even know when it started honestly. Maybe because growing up, I was the one who stayed calm when things fell apart. And now it’s like, if someone’s hurting, I feel like I have to be there. Like it’s on me to make things better. Even if I’m exhausted.
2. Is it bad to care too much about other people’s problems?
It’s not bad… but it hurts.
Like, caring is good, obviously. But when you care so much that you forget you exist too? That’s when it messes you up. I used to think love meant fixing people. Now I think maybe love means not losing yourself just to keep others afloat.
3. Why do I feel so guilty for taking care of myself?
Man, I wish I knew.
The second I try to say “no” or do something for me, this voice pops up like, “You’re being selfish.”
But I’m learning that guilt doesn’t always mean you’re doing something wrong. Sometimes it just means you’re doing something new.
4. How do I know when I’m doing too much for someone else?
When I’m more tired after helping than they are.
When I feel invisible after giving my all.
When I start dreading their texts.
That’s usually when I know… yeah, I’ve crossed my own line again.
5. What if they get mad when I stop helping so much?
Honestly? Some do.
They act weird. Or say I’ve changed.
But I think they were just used to the old me — the one who never said no.
And yeah, losing people sucks. But losing myself sucked way more.
6. It feels like I’m abandoning them. Am I?
No.
I had to remind myself — I’m not walking away from them. I’m walking towards me.
I’m just tired of bleeding for people who won’t even offer a bandage.
That’s not love. That’s burnout.
7. Why does helping people sometimes make me feel worse?
Because not everyone wants help.
They just want someone to dump things on.
And when you’re always that person, you start drowning in stuff that’s not even yours.
It’s not helping anymore. It’s just absorbing pain that doesn’t belong to you.
8. Can I still be a good friend if I stop fixing people?
I hope so.
I think being a good friend means just being there. Not solving everything.
Just showing up. Listening. Saying, “That sucks. I’m here.”
You don’t have to be their therapist to be someone they love.
9. How do I say no without feeling like the worst person ever?
Still figuring that one out.
But I started with small stuff like, “I don’t have space for this right now.”
And yeah, it felt weird.
But no one else was asking me how I was. So I stopped always saying yes.
10. Why do I always attract people who need fixing?
Maybe because I look like someone who won’t leave.
Like someone who listens, absorbs, fixes.
And broken people feel safe with that.
But now I wonder — what if I stopped looking like a rescue mission?
11. What if the people I love stop talking to me when I stop helping?
If that’s all it took to lose them… maybe I never had them.
Real love shouldn’t disappear just because you’re finally tired.
It should say, “Take your rest. I’m still here.”
Not vanish when you stop carrying all the weight.
12. I’ve been the fixer for so long… how do I even start focusing on myself?
No idea where to start either.
But I began with silence. Sitting still.
Asking myself what I needed for once.
At first it felt selfish. Now it feels like breathing.
13. Isn’t it selfish to put myself first sometimes?
That’s what I used to think.
But if I’m falling apart, how am I supposed to help anyone anyway?
Taking care of me isn’t selfish.
It’s the reason I can even show up for others when it really matters.
14. Why do I blame myself for stuff that’s not even mine?
Because I’ve done it forever.
If someone’s mad, I think I caused it.
If someone’s sad, I think I should fix it.
But I’m slowly learning… not everything is my fault. And not everything is mine to carry.
15. Who am I even if I’m not the helper anymore?
Honestly? I don’t fully know yet.
But I want to find out.
Maybe I’m someone who’s allowed to rest. Someone who doesn’t always have to be the strong one.
Maybe I’m just… me. And that’s enough.
Stop Absorbing Other People’s Problems | Codependency
By Julia Kristina Counselling
In this powerful video, Julia Kristina, a registered clinical counsellor, dives into the emotional toll of constantly trying to fix or carry other people’s problems—something many of us do out of love, guilt, or habit.
She breaks down how codependency can quietly take over our lives, making us feel responsible for everyone else’s happiness while ignoring our own emotional needs. If you’ve ever felt drained, anxious, or resentful because you’re always “the fixer,” this video might be a mirror.
It’s not about becoming selfish. It’s about learning where you end and they begin.
I included this video because it speaks exactly to the shift I wrote about in this post: letting go of the urge to fix others, and finally turning that care inward—to heal, grow, and reconnect with yourself.
