Many of us go through life with the idea that we need to fix things, especially if we are parents.
Once upon a time we had that power – or we thought we did. It was a great feeling to have a child present us with a boo-boo, and the magical power of our love made it all better. We prided ourselves on teaching the children to make decisions – within the parameters that we set. Letting a toddler choose between a red shirt and a blue shirt meant that they thought they had control, but it was really us. As they got older, we gave them more leeway, but in the end, as the parent, it was our job to make decisions, referee arguments, and generally control everything going on in the house.
Many people, especially those who identify as women, base their entire identity on this job, and find themselves at a loss once the children are grown. The cruelest mother-in-law or Jewish mother jokes are based on the stereotype of a woman who can’t let go of her adult child. Never mind, I’ll sit in the dark.
Even for people who are not parents, the desire to make the world a better place can result in controlling behaviour. We learn these lessons from our parents, after all.
One of the most humbling lessons I have had to learn recently was that I actually don’t have the power to kiss things better. I can hope and pray, and when asked, I can give my opinion or take supportive action (but only when asked). Otherwise, I need to give the power over to those whose problem it actually is.
Whether we are talking about our own family members or people who are marginalised in society, the moment we assume we know what’s best for them without their input, we are exhibiting controlling behaviour. We may build wells and schools that aren’t the best way to serve the communities we want to help. We may talk over the people with lived experiences in the issues we are trying to solve. The road to hell is truly paved with the good intentions of people who think they know best.
As a recovering fixer, I have needed to learn this lesson over and over. As I mentioned last week, quoting the psychologist Gay Hendricks, the Universe can teach us our lessons with the touch of a feather of the whomp of a sledgehammer. I’m hoping not to encounter too many more sledgehammers.
Here’s wishing us all many gentle feathers, as we learn our way through life.
