Killing the Fixer Within You
Release the pattern of overgiving, and realizing you were easier to take from than to keep
Women are often praised for being nurturing, supportive, and intuitive. We’re not necessarily taught to see potential, but we are encouraged to lean into it — to help, to support, to build. Many of us are naturally nurturing problem solvers, able to quickly identify what’s missing and instinctively step in to fill that gap.
I’ve always been a great problem solver. It helps in my work, and really all facets of life. I am innately transfixed on solving everyone’s problems, and even moreso when it comes to my partner’s problems.
What isn’t talked about as openly is how easily that turns into a pattern of overgiving.
It’s not even that women are actively seeking out men with “potential” — it’s that so many men are simply not rising to meet the moment. They aren’t doing the work, they aren’t building, they aren’t showing up fully formed. So what ends up happening is women step in to bridge that gap, offering energy, support, and guidance where it’s lacking.
And at first, it can feel natural. Even fulfilling to some.
I was driving the other day when Without Me by Halsey came on, and one line hit in a way it hadn’t before: “I got you off your knees, put you right back on your feet just so you could take advantage of me.”
That dynamic isn’t just a lyric — it’s something a lot of women have lived. Showing up for someone at their lowest, helping them stabilize, pouring into them until they become a more confident, capable version of themselves.
I’ve been there and lived through that dynamic too many times to count. My good nature and eagerness to help will always be alluring to a man who is at a low point. I make people better than I found them. And while that’s an honourable trait to have, it’s also been a hindrance.
But that shift often comes with an unexpected outcome.
Because once they become that “new” version, there’s a distancing that happens. Not always consciously, but it’s there. Instead of appreciating the person who supported them through that phase, they start to resent what that version of themselves represents — and by extension, the person who witnessed it. You become tied to a version of them they no longer want to identify with.
They don’t stay with the person who helped them through the hardest moments of their lives. They don’t stay with the person who helped them grow something from the ground up. They got a taste of what you have to offer and begin to believe that kind of treatment is something they’re entitled to — something they can find elsewhere, without the weight of who they used to be.
And so they move forward, as if what was given to them was just part of their evolution, not something that requires acknowledgment or reciprocity.
And to be clear — it’s not about being owed anything.
The support wasn’t given in exchange for praise, gratitude, or some kind of debt to be repaid. It was given because there was care there. Because there was a belief in building something together. But there’s a difference between giving freely and being the only one contributing. It’s one thing to support someone as they grow, and another to realize you’ve been the only one holding the hammer the entire time.
There can only be so many times you can tell yourself “he’s going through a lot right now” while excusing bad behaviour or mistreatment. At a certain point, it stops being empathy and starts becoming a pattern. And when that pattern continues, you’re not protecting them — you’re abandoning yourself.
You start accepting things you wouldn’t normally tolerate. You start justifying behaviour you know isn’t aligned. And deep down, there’s an awareness that the people closest to you can see it too.
When someone is constantly given a pass — when they’re not expected to put in effort, to show up, or to reciprocate — you are quietly setting the standard for what you’re willing to accept. And at the same time, you’re often increasing how much you give, hoping it will balance things out.
But it doesn’t.
That’s where the imbalance starts to surface.
Because what often gets framed as being “supportive” or “a good partner” can quietly cross into something else entirely. It becomes giving at a level that hasn’t been earned. It becomes offering “wifey” energy to someone who hasn’t shown they can meet you there. It becomes helping not from a place of mutual investment, but from a place of proving your worth.
And there’s a difference between being helpful and self-sacrificing.
When generosity is given without discernment, it stops being something that’s appreciated and starts becoming something that’s expected. The dynamic shifts, and instead of two people contributing to each other’s lives, one person is doing the building while the other is benefiting from it.
I’ve learned a lot over the past few years, and one of the hardest things to grasp has been this: I need to kill the fixer in me. I need to stop being so eager to solve problems. I need to stop being so helpful.
Not because it’s a flaw — but because not everyone deserves access to that part of me.
The lesson isn’t to stop being nurturing or to shut that part of yourself down. It’s to recognize that not everyone should have access to that level of care. Not everyone has earned the benefit of your time, your insight, or your willingness to help them build.
Give to those who give to you.
Pour into those who pour into you.
Because the right relationship isn’t one where you are needed to elevate someone into who they could be. It’s one where both people are already doing that work for themselves, and what they create together is an addition — not a rescue.
The real shift is learning to pause before stepping in. To stop automatically asking how you can help, and instead ask what is being offered to you. To recognize that not every person is yours to fix, and not every situation requires your involvement.
Because constantly pouring into the wrong people doesn’t make you more loving, more valuable, or more worthy.
It just makes you easier to take from.