Fixer

I don't know exactly where I'm going to go with this post, but I just feel a strong need to sit and write.

I'm the type of person who tries to "fix" everyone and their problems. Lately, this has become a major problem area in my life because I'm letting my obsession with fixing interfere with my ability to be a mom, wife, daughter, friend and co-worker. I'm struggling with these simple words:

I can't fix everything.


Do you ever feel that way? When the world starts to crash down around those who are closest to you, you feel the responsibility to step in and save the day? Right all the wrongs? Find the answers?

I do.

And I think it's both a blessing and a burden. I'm having some trouble finding the blessing in this personality trait I possess because lately it's just been a very heavy burden.

It's really hard to delve into exactly what load I've been carrying on my shoulders because it's so personal. It affects so many people I love. Maybe one day, down the road, I'll be able to look back on it all and write about it openly and honestly. But right now, the wounds are too fresh and the pain is too deep. The problems aren't new either; they actually played a role in my preterm labor but were something I never disclosed to anyone except family. And the problems I'm trying to fix are so difficult and out of my ability that I'm driving myself absolutely crazy trying to find a solution. There must be answers! There must be a light at the end of this tunnel! But where is it!?

Last night, Jackson had the worst night since he was born. It would be a generous estimate to say we both slept 4 hours. Combine his allergies with swollen gums and pain from teething and you have a child who wanted so badly to sleep but just couldn't get comfortable. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't suck a pacifier. If I held him close, he screamed louder. Our episode last night topped off a stressful day on a personal level. By 6:15 this morning I was nearing the end of my quickly fraying rope. I broke down in Jimmy's arms before he left for work and through tears and a raised voice finally allowed myself to verbalize what was bothering me. It wasn't the lack of sleep. It wasn't the helpless feeling of not being able to comfort my son. It wasn't even anything work-related. It was my personal life; I let it get away from me when I became so entangled in fixing the problems and playing the mediator of those closest to me that I forgot how to do basic things, such as sleep or care for my children.

The realization hit me hard and suddenly the lack of sleep weighed down heavier than it had. I climbed back into bed next to Jackson, who was finally sound asleep, and got in another hour of rest. It was when I woke up the solution finally came to me.

I can't fix everything...


...and I don't have to. 


I'm responsible for the choices I make and can only control those. The most important things in my life right now are my kids, and raising them is my most important job. But I lost sight of this in the past few days when I obsessed over helping and fixing others. I made a few phone calls and shared the revelation.

I was clocking out. My time was up. I quit.

I can't fix everything or everyone and I don't have to. It isn't in my job description. God doesn't expect it out of me.

After that, things turned around. My demeanor changed. I felt a huge weight lifted from my shoulders. I felt God's loving presence close, after not feeling Him near for days. The boys are currently clocking in a nap that is lasting over 3 hours and I've had the opportunity to catch up on work and even found a few minutes to write. I was so blinded by the stress of it all I temporarily lost touch with my own reality.

Of the many things I am, one thing I am going to work on not being is a person who tries to fix everyone else's problems. I can only fix me.