I’ve always been someone who wants to fix things.
Give me a problem, and my mind immediately starts looking for a solution. That trait served me well during my working years. As a team leader, I learned to listen to both sides, solve problems, balance different needs, and find a way forward.
For a long time, I believed most problems could be solved if you worked hard enough at them.
Then I learned that relationships don’t always work that way.
Especially when the relationship is with a parent.
The Leader Who Could See Both Sides
During my years as a team leader at Nelson, being able to see both sides of a situation was one of my strengths. I could understand what the company needed while also understanding what the people on my team needed. Problems had causes. Conflicts could be discussed. Solutions could usually be found. My “fix it” personality had somewhere productive to go. But caregiving isn’t leadership. It’s personal. It’s emotional. And sometimes there simply isn’t a solution that makes everyone happy.
Loving Someone You Don’t Always Understand
My relationship with my mother has been complicated. Other people sometimes experienced a very different version of her than I did. She could be social, funny, and enjoyable to be around. My experiences with her at home could be very different. That was confusing when I was young, and it remained complicated as we both grew older. As she aged, our interactions became increasingly difficult. We didn’t always remember events the same way or agree about things that had happened within our family. Trying to convince one another whose version was correct rarely brought either of us peace. Eventually, I had to accept something I didn’t want to accept I couldn’t fix our relationship by myself.
Where My Need to Fix Things Began
Looking back, I can see that my need to make things better started very young. I began working when I was around 11 or 12 and learned independence early. I also experienced kindness and stability from a neighbor who showed me what compassion could look like through ordinary acts of care. Those experiences shaped me. When something was missing, I learned to create it. When there was a problem, I tried to solve it. When someone needed help, I stepped in. Those qualities became strengths throughout my life. But eventually I had to learn that a strength used without limits can become a burden.
When Helping Starts Hurting
Caring for an aging parent can bring complicated emotions.
Love. Responsibility. Anger. Guilt. Sadness.
And sometimes all of them before you’ve even finished your morning coffee. I spent a long time believing that if I found the right words, offered the right help, or tried just a little harder, things would finally become easier. Sometimes they did. Sometimes they didn’t. Eventually, I realized that constantly trying to repair a relationship was taking something out of me too. That doesn’t mean I stopped caring. It means I had to start recognizing my own limits.
Redefining “Doing the Right Thing”
This may have been the hardest lesson for someone like me: Doing the right thing doesn’t always mean fixing the problem. Sometimes it means accepting that a problem isn’t yours alone to solve. Sometimes it means setting a boundary. Sometimes it means stepping away from an argument. Sometimes it means loving someone while accepting that you cannot change them. And sometimes it means admitting that protecting your own peace matters too. I can still be the person who solves problems. I just don’t have to solve every problem.
Finding Peace in Letting Go
Letting go doesn’t necessarily mean giving up on someone. Sometimes it means giving up the belief that you can control the outcome. I’m still learning that.
I’m learning that I can care about someone without carrying everything for them. I can acknowledge the difficult parts of my past without allowing them to determine my future. And I can have compassion for someone else’s struggles while also having compassion for myself. Not every difficult relationship ends with a perfect reconciliation. Not every question gets answered. Not everything broken can—or needs to—be repaired by me. Maybe peace begins when we finally understand the difference between loving someone and believing it’s our responsibility to fix them. I’ve spent much of my life learning how to fix things. Now I’m learning when to put the tools down.
Resources for Aging Adults and Caregivers
Illinois AgingHealth and Human Services
