For most of my life, really for as long as I can remember, even going back to my early teenage years, for any given bad situation, whether it be an overdue bill, a looming shut-off notice, an arrest warrant, medical issues, familial issues with one or both of my brothers, even the possibility of a family member facing homelessness, etc., I was the obligatory one to step in and take the reins. It was expected of me to be the rescuer, the savior. I’m Fierce, so “Fierce will take care of it”.
And if Fierce didn’t, or couldn’t? Then I was to blame for the situation going awry. Nevermind the circumstances that led to the situation in the first place; because I couldn’t fix it, I was at fault for it.
But no more. Too many years of rescuing everyone around me while letting myself drown + decent therapy has taught me appropriate boundaries. I’m 37 years old, and I am finally in a healthy enough place to say, “I will help you carry your damaged bag, but only if I have a free hand. And if the bag breaks, it is your fault for allowing it to become damaged to begin with. I’m only here to support you in solving your problem.”