Thou Shalt Not Fix
(At least not all the time). An exploration of Doing vs. Being
It is such a natural inclination for chaplaincy students (and all of us well-meaning individuals) to try to fix a situation when we are faced with someone’s pain.
We might be quite skilled at hearing about a person’s problem and intuiting a solution. There are times where fixing is the intervention needed in professional caregiving. It is a valuable tool to have in the helping toolbox. However, it becomes a problem when fixing is your only tool.
When listening becomes synonymous with fixing, there are a few potential consequences.
Moving to solving can take away the agency of the other person. It would be better to empower the individual to come up with their own solution instead of spoon feeding them your answer.
It can minimize the feelings of the person seeking help, especially if we are moving too quickly to resolution.
Fixing someone else’s issue is sometimes more about us and our needs and less about the other person. It makes us feel better when we can solve something. But it is not always what the individual is hoping to receive from the encounter.
Some of us might even have a Superman complex. We (sometimes subconsciously) think we’re the messianic individual who will save the world. This archetype and desire is built into the DNA of a lot of us in the helping professions. We have to work hard to recognize our motivations and not let them drive us all the time.
Additionally, those of us who like being in control can encounter an overwhelming sense of helplessness when faced with suffering. We desperately want to do something to alleviate the hardship.
I encourage my students to reflect on whether they are doing vs. being when they are in a patient’s room. Doing is about performing tasks and producing something. Doing can be the act of fixing. Being is about presence being enough. Being involves emotional attunement to the other. Being means sitting with the suffering.
Examples of doing or fixing can look like:
Asking if they’ve tried a certain approach
Suggesting ways to prevent the problem from happening again
Doing “What if” brainstorming
Recalling ways you have solved the problem in the past
Telling them not to worry so much
Trying to get them to laugh
Jumping quickly to prayer
Recommending a certain scripture, book, podcast
The following video is a tongue in cheek example of how hard it can be to not fix a situation. The temptation is strong to do what we can to eliminate the pain.
Did you cringe while watching the video? You almost have to sit on your hands to avoid pulling out the nail.
There is a delicate balance between offering emotional support and practical assistance. Sometimes you really do have to pull out the nail.
Several years ago, at a conference for Chaplain Educators the keynote speaker had a seizure in the middle of her talk. It wasn’t a grand mal seizure (the kind you might see on tv) but a partial or absence seizure, that can sometimes just look like someone is scared or confused. As an EMT and person with epilepsy, I knew exactly what was happening. When I got to her, I had to forcibly remove the throngs of Chaplain Educators surrounding her, asking about her feelings and telling her they were with her, holding her hand. That was not the time for emotional support, that was the time for medical intervention.
It can be hard to know what type of care to give in a situation, especially a crisis.
In my non-professional relationships, I have learned to ask, “Do you want me to listen as you vent or do you want me to help you problem-solve? I’m up for either!”
Additionally, you can help a friend or professional caring for you by giving them directions on what you need at that moment. Commiseration? A hug? A distraction? Ideas?
This can be hard in its own way. How often do we know what we need? And how often do we effectively communicate that need to others?
We don’t want people to be in pain, but the truth is – we can’t always take it away. Or it isn’t appropriate to assume that we can fix it. The one thing we can always do to help is offer space for the person to be heard. And there is healing in that space.
One of my spiritual directees described a complex and tragic situation which he was overwhelmed by. He saw two paths he could take, but really didn’t know what to do and felt unable to make a decision. He laid out cases for both options and turned to me and asked “Ok, so now can you tell me which path I should pick?” We laughed together because he knew it wasn’t that easy. Even when someone is explicitly asking you to solve their problem, that may be exactly what they don’t need.
A similar temptation to solve every problem has taken root in societal parenting trends. In the recent past we had free-range parents and helicopter parents. The newest parenting style is referred to as bulldozer, snowplow or lawnmower parents. Bulldozer parents want to remove all obstacles from their children’s path, so they don’t have to suffer. They don’t want their children to be hurt, disappointed, or in pain. They want to fix their kids’ path for them in advance.
As a mom of two elementary aged boys, I resonate with this desire to fix everything for them. I am tempted to bulldoze all their problems. It hurts to see my kids suffering. And yet, I must remind myself that my job as a parent isn’t to remove any possibility of struggle, it’s to raise them with the skills to navigate life’s challenges. I can talk with them about different paths they might take but I cannot fix the situation just to lessen the discomfort they experience.
Then there are the situations that we simply cannot fix, even if we tried.
Earl’s father is dying of heart failure. But that’s not why I got called by the nurses to see him. They called me because Earl was “giving the staff a hard time.” When I arrive, Earl complains about the lack of transparency in how much everything was going to cost. This is a real fear for people.
“I’ve run an autobody shop for 30 years and I don’t do anything to the person’s vehicle until they sign off on it. I tell them upfront what it will cost to replace the carbonator and then they decide if they want me to do it. I keep asking the doctors to tell me how much this will be, but all they do is tell me not to worry about it. This is not how you run a business!”
There are indeed some concrete ways to fix this situation, but I resist jumping into those. I make a mental note to refer him to charity care, have the case manager call his insurance, and remind the med staff that they can make these referrals too.
But I suspect it is not only the financial concerns that are plaguing Earl. Rather than doing something in that moment, I try to embrace being. I sense Earl might not respond well if I ask him about his emotions, grief and/or spirituality right away. After affirming his financial fears I say “Tell me about your autobody shop.”
He shares his version of what I consider a call story.
“I’ve been a tinkerer all my life. I was always curious, taking things apart, figuring out how they work, putting them back together. My dad was good with cars and taught me everything I know.”
I’m about to ask him more about his dad and his anticipatory grief, but before I get the chance, he continues,“In my shop, everything makes sense. I can figure it all out. I am good at fixing whatever people bring in.”
He gets quiet. He opens his mouth as if to say something and then he stops himself.
I lean in and reflect back, “You’re good at fixing things.”
“I just wish I could fix this.”
And then he breaks down crying.
I'm a recovering fixer too. When I trained to be a life and leadership coach a few years ago, it was so hard to stop giving advice. But it changed my entire outlook on ministry. I'm sending your post out to my Befrienders Care Team. We often say, "Care, not cure." Now we will say, "It's not about the nail!"
Running the risk of, er, fixing, I would like to commend this post to everyone, and in particular those in helping professions, or those who want to be.