Why I Stopped Trying to Fix Broken People
I used to think it was my job to fix broken people. Turns out, it was just draining me.
Have you ever tried to rescue someone who didn't want to be rescued?
A few months ago, I was walking with someone through yet another self-inflicted storm.
Same drama, different day. They asked for advice. I gave it. They ignored it. Then circled back like I hadn't already warned them five times.
And I kept showing up.
Kept pouring out.
Kept carrying weight they refused to pick up for themselves.
That's when it hit me: I wasn't helping, I was enabling.
And worse, I was getting tired in a way that felt spiritual, emotional, and psychological all at once.
Like I was trying to do God's job with human strength.
Sound Familiar?
You might not have a title like "pastor" or "counselor," but I bet you've been the go-to.
The fixer. The glue. The one everybody calls when their world is on fire because you always show up with a bucket of water.
But maybe lately, it feels like the fires keep getting bigger.
And the people you're helping don't seem to be changing.
It's exhausting.
Because here's the truth, most people won't say out loud:
Trying to fix broken people will eventually break you.
And no, it's not unloving to stop. It's wise.
The Reframe That Set Me Free
There's a big difference between helping someone heal and dragging them toward change they didn't ask for.
That difference? Consent.
People have to want it. They have to be ready. And if they're not? Your effort turns into wasted energy.
You start burning daylight trying to convince people to care about their own lives more than you do.
That's not compassion. That's control in a shepherd's robe.
Here's what I realized:
You can't carry someone who keeps cutting holes in the bottom of the boat.
What I Did Instead (And What You Can Do Too)
When I finally decided to put the cape down, I didn't do it cold. I did it clearly.
If this is hitting home for you, here are five shifts that saved my sanity:
① Get honest about your motives.
Are you helping because you feel called or because you're addicted to being needed? One will fuel you. The other will empty you. Ask yourself: "Am I serving them or serving my ego?"
② Stop confusing rescue with love.
Rescue feels good for a moment. But real love honors agency. Real love says, "I'm here if you want help. But I won't carry you kicking and screaming."
③ Let consequences be the teacher.
Some people only change when pain finally outweighs comfort. Don't rob them of the lesson by cushioning every fall. Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is step back and let life do its work.
④ Say no without guilt.
Boundaries aren't heartless; they're strategic. You preserve your peace so you can show up where you actually make a difference. "No" to the wrong person is "yes" to the right opportunity.
⑤ Redirect your energy toward growth-minded people.
There's someone out there praying for exactly the kind of help you've been wasting on someone who doesn't want it. Find them instead.
The Story That Changed Everything for Me
Let me tell you about Marcus (not his real name).
Sharp kid. Charismatic. Tons of potential, but he'd make the same mistakes over and over and call it "learning experiences."
For two years, I kept showing up. Kept encouraging. Kept covering the damage.
I had become his unpaid life coach, crisis manager, and emotional crutch all rolled into one.
Then one Tuesday, I realized something that stopped me cold: I had ten unread texts from Marcus, five other people I'd blown off to handle his latest crisis, and three missed opportunities to mentor people who were actually ready to grow.
So I stopped.
Called him up and said, "Marcus, I love you, but I can't walk this road with you anymore. You know what you need to do. When you're ready to do it, call me."
You know what happened?
Silence. Complete radio silence.
No pushback. No tears. No apology. Not even anger.
That silence told me everything I needed to know: I was more invested in his breakthrough than he was. He wasn't losing a mentor, he was losing a safety net he'd grown comfortable falling into.
And that's when I knew I made the right call.
What This Looks Like in Real Life
Here's the part nobody tells you: the moment you stop fixing, the guilt shows up like an uninvited houseguest.
You'll hear the inner critic say:
"But what if they fall apart without me?"
"What kind of person walks away from someone who needs help?"
"Isn't helping people what I'm supposed to do?"
Let me answer those voices:
No, not at the cost of your peace.
No, not if they keep refusing to change.
And no, especially not if they're using your loyalty as a crutch to avoid growing up.
You were never called to lose yourself trying to save somebody who's not even trying.
Even Jesus Didn't Chase People
Let me take the spiritual pressure off you for a second.
Jesus met people with grace, compassion, and power. But He didn't chase folks who walked away.
He let the rich young ruler walk away sad
He didn't heal every person in every town
He told His disciples, "If they don't receive you, shake the dust off your feet and keep moving"
So if you've been afraid that setting boundaries makes you less spiritual—read that again.
Even Jesus knew when to walk away.
The Freedom Waiting on the Other Side
You can't be everyone's savior.
You can't teach someone who isn't listening.
You can't heal someone who won't admit they're hurting.
You can't help someone grow if their comfort zone is more sacred than their calling.
And you don't have to.
You can bless them.
Pray for them.
Wish them well from a distance.
But you do not have to carry them.
This isn't giving up. This is growing up.
Your Turn
Take a moment and ask yourself:
What's one person or situation you need to stop trying to fix?
Who's been draining your energy without showing any evidence of growth?
What would change in your life if you gave yourself permission to let go?
I'm serious about this.
Hit reply and tell me about it, not just for my insight but for your freedom.
Sometimes we need to say it out loud to make it real.
What's Next
You're not alone in this.
There's a whole community of people learning that peace is holy, boundaries are biblical, and sometimes the most loving thing you can do is stop enabling someone's dysfunction.
Next week, I'm diving into: "Why Helping Too Much Can Sabotage Your Leadership" (especially for those of us in ministry, business, and service-driven spaces).
But until then?
Stop fixing what God never told you to carry.
Your peace matters. Your energy matters.
And the people who are ready for your help are waiting for you to show up fully present, rather than emotionally depleted.
What resonated most with you in this post? I read every reply.