5:30 a.m.: Your alarm goes off. You had every intention of starting your workout routine today—it’s Monday, the unofficial day of fresh starts. But exhaustion weighs on you, a consequence of being up between 2:00 and 3:30 a.m., replaying your brother’s cryptic text in your head: “I’m done with my marriage and everything in-between. What’s the point?” You offered calming words, but he didn’t respond. You can’t shake the worry.
6:00 a.m.: You grab your phone, guilt nudging you out of bed. A text from your neighbor asks for help taking her kids to school again. Saying no feels impossible, so you reply with a thumbs-up emoji, determined to make it work even though asking your partner for help doesn’t feel like an option. Notifications flood in, pulling you into the day before you’ve even had a moment to breathe.
7:00 a.m.: Your phone buzzes again—it’s a text from your coworker. She needs help with a project. Without thinking, you rearrange your morning to assist, prioritizing her needs over your own.
12:00 p.m.: Lunchtime arrives, but it’s not much of a break. You scarf down a half sandwich while juggling work, your mind racing through a growing list of responsibilities, and you scroll social media.
3:00 p.m.: At your desk, your phone buzzes again: Your brother has finally texted back, but his message only leaves you more worried. The day is slipping away. You’re scattered, thinking about unfinished work, an email you forgot to send, and the meeting starting soon.
5:00 p.m.: As you’re getting ready to leave, you touch base with your coworker. She’s still stressed and needs you. You offer to stay late and help, pushing your own plans aside once more. Maybe you should ask your partner to pick up the slack at home, even though you promised to be there—but that might be too much for them. You try to figure out what can be delivered to the house for dinner as you make a mad dash for the parking garage.
7:30 p.m.: Finally home, you try to be present with your family, though your energy is drained. You realize you never followed up with your brother. Your mind flips through the wins you secured for others today—your neighbor, your coworker—while your own needs were delayed again. The kitchen feels quiet for a moment, but soon your teenager marches in, huffing about her homework and annoyance with school. Before you’ve even set down your bag, you start offering solutions: “Maybe you need to start earlier. Have you tried making a schedule? I will email your teacher again.” Your words tumble out, dismissing the raw vulnerability in her voice. She rolls her eyes, muttering, “You don’t get it.” You pour a glass of wine, searching for a moment of relief even though you know it’ll make the sleepless hours of the night more difficult. As the day ends, that familiar feeling returns: Despite everything, you still didn’t do enough.
And the cycle continues as the next day begins.
Fixing isn’t the same as helping. In fact, it’s likely causing more harm—to others, to yourself, and to the very connections you value most. While stepping in to solve someone else’s problems might feel satisfying in the moment, it comes at a cost.
Sure, fixing may bring you temporary relief. It validates your sense of purpose and lets you skip the patience required for genuine listening. Many of us like to think we’re great listeners, but are we really? Fixing robs others of the chance to face their challenges, build resilience, and gain the confidence that comes from navigating difficulties on their own. Instead, it provides immediate closure—a problem checked off your list, feeding into the relentless rhythm of productivity. Ah, the list, the ultimate emblem of efficiency. While it can keep us organized and driven, it often narrows our perspective so much that we miss the chance to be truly present and create meaningful space for ourselves and those we care about.
I’ve seen this cycle unfold countless times and lived it myself: compassionate people who struggle to set boundaries. They’re constantly checking in on others and encouraging self-care yet fail to show that same grace to themselves. The imbalance is pervasive but easily overlooked. Worse, many never stop to examine the deeper patterns keeping them trapped in these roles—the internal drivers that compel them to repeat behaviors that lead to familiar emotional exhaustion.
The fallout is everywhere. I’ve witnessed nonprofits closing their doors, corporate teams losing their brightest members to burnout, teachers losing their passion, caregivers collapsing under relentless pressure, friends sacrificing themselves to enable others, and families breaking apart under the weight of unmet needs and unspoken boundaries. Time and again, the lack of clear boundaries doesn’t just strain relationships: It erodes them completely, robbing people of the very connection they’re striving so hard to preserve.
My book is for the “serial fixer,” someone who has great intentions when it comes to helping others but is exhausted and doesn’t seem to be getting the desired results or fulfilling connections with others. Whether you are someone that aims to guide, lead, or support one person or a thousand—this book is for you. Perhaps you’ve been feeling like situations in your life shouldn’t be as difficult or draining as they are. Maybe you have acquired unwanted resentment that is slowly engulfing your ability to connect with or lead others. You may have trouble creating or maintaining healthy boundaries that honor who you are and who you aim to be. You might feel taken advantage of at times, but you do not take any steps to set boundaries or change the dynamic of your relationships. Or perhaps you aim to please and would go to extreme lengths to avoid negative associations, conflicts, or judgments. Does this sound like you yet?
Serial Fixer isn’t just another self-help book; it’s a guide to becoming a mindful and impactful friend, leader, parent, or professional. It’s about dismantling the urgency that plagues our modern lives and rediscovering the beauty in presence, authenticity, and sustainable connections. This is a relational reframe helping you play roles that aim to empower and support other people without the consequences and burnout occurring from the unnecessary pressure to fix, solve, and control. Join this transformative journey and reclaim your role as a beacon of support without sacrificing your own well-being.
This is an excerpt from the introduction of Serial Fixer.
