Samantha is in her mid-twenties and has a habit of fixing things before they actually exist.
At work, a simple question can trigger her automatic response:
“Can you send that report?”
“Did you mean to cc them?”
Her body reacts before her brain has time to catch up. A rush of self-doubt floods in. Did I mess up? Are they annoyed? Am I about to get called out?
So she immediately fixes.
“I’m so sorry if that wasn’t what you wanted.”
“I might be overthinking this, but I just want to explain.”
“I can redo it, loop someone else in, or take it off your plate if that helps.”
It is almost as if she shows her hand before the other person has even taken their turn.
Samantha is a Serial Fixer.
Her fixing does not come from arrogance or control. It comes from fear. She creates “what if” scenarios in her head and behaves as if they are already true. This form of serial fixing stems from people-pleasing, which ultimately reflects a lack of trust in herself. By apologizing early, overexplaining, and taking ownership of problems that have not happened yet, she believes she is protecting herself from discomfort, judgment, or disappointment.
The catch? No one else has the information she has. The story exists only in her head. Instead of preventing conflict, she often creates it. Her anxiety rises, and others feel confused, pulled in unnecessarily, or subtly unsettled. What was neutral becomes charged, not because of the situation, but because of the premature fabricating and fixing around it.
At home with her roommate, the pattern continues. Samantha carefully structures every conversation. When the apartment is messy, she starts with thoughtful “I” statements. But before her roommate can respond, Samantha pivots into problem-solving or accommodating again, sometimes even bending reality to protect herself from conflict.
“I can just clean more, it’s actually not a big deal.”
“I know you are busy, so maybe I am expecting too much.”
“I don’t want this to be a thing.”
In trying to prevent her roommate from getting upset, she overextends herself and enables the very behavior that frustrates her. The imbalance grows, and so does the resentment.
Samantha often plays the role of the accommodator, the stabilizer, the emotional buffer. It gives her a sense of control and safety. If she manages the moment well enough, maybe nothing bad will happen.
But that role comes at a cost. She disconnects from her own needs. She does not allow space for other people to respond, repair, or take responsibility. Over time, her relationships feel heavier and more confusing.
The Support, Don’t Solve shift for Samantha is subtle, but powerful. Pause before acting. Instead of fixing ahead of time, she practices letting moments unfold. Meeting statements, people, and situations where they are at. These efforts remind her that interactions involve two people and ownership should be collaborative.
At work:
“Got it, I’ll take a look.”
At home:
“I want to talk about how the shared space is feeling for me.”
No upfront apology, pre-emptive bending or assumption of blame.
This kind of restraint is uncomfortable at first. It requires tolerating uncertainty and trusting that she can handle whatever comes next. But with practice (getting some reps in) Samantha begins to see that most situations do not spiral the way she fears. And when they do, she is more capable than she ever gave herself credit for.
Reflection
Where do you apologize or explain before anything has gone wrong?
What stories are you writing in your head that no one else has read?
What might shift if you paused, trusted yourself, and let others take their turn?
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