Caregivers are trained—explicitly or implicitly—to fix things.
We learn to anticipate problems before they surface. We watch for patterns, prepare solutions. Over time, this becomes reflex: something hurts, something breaks, and our bodies move toward repair before our minds have time to check in.
That instinct is not a flaw. It is a skill. It is often what keeps people safe.
But fixing is not always what a moment requires.
Sometimes what’s needed isn’t resolution, advice, or a plan. What’s needed is recognition. Witness. A response that says, I see this. I’m here with you. No tools raised. No outcomes demanded.
Responding is different from fixing. Fixing aims for an end point—it tries to close the loop, make the discomfort go away. Responding stays with what’s present. It listens for what’s actually being offered rather than what should be happening. It allows the moment to be incomplete.
Years ago, I wrote about the difference between comfort and solutions in a piece called “Blanket or Sword.”
Caregivers already do this more than they realize. You notice tone shifts. You register when someone is overwhelmed before they say so. You pause when pushing forward would cause harm. These are not passive acts. They are responsive ones.
The challenge comes when fixing becomes automatic—when every expression of pain feels like a problem to solve, when presence feels insufficient unless it produces change. This is especially true when we’re tired. Fixing can feel efficient. Responding can feel slow, uncertain, exposed.
But responding does something fixing can’t: it leaves room for the other person to remain whole. It doesn’t rush them toward clarity before they’re ready. It doesn’t require you to carry the weight of the outcome. It simply meets what’s there.
This applies inward, too. Many caregivers try to fix themselves through exhaustion—correcting feelings, overriding limits, pushing through signals that need care rather than correction. Responding to yourself might look like noticing what’s hard without immediately asking how to make it stop. It might mean offering yourself the same choice you offer others: comfort or action, listening or strategy.
There will always be moments that require solutions. There will be times when the sword matters. But not every moment is a battle, and not every difficulty is asking to be solved.
Some moments are asking to be met.
Improv Invitation: When something feels hard today, try responding without trying to solve it. Notice what changes when presence is allowed to be enough.