When The Help Ain’t Helping

There are cases largely resistant to help, most because the help we provide does not adequately address the problem. Sure, we’ve racked up countless, inspirational stories of the clients who have turned their lives around and are basking in a glow of our supposed support. But what about the hundreds of thousands who would actually benefit from us involving ourselves less? Or, as Jack Black says, “so step off!”This doesn’t imply you harbored malevolent intent, or that your help was tainted with a wicked motive to destroy the person’s livelihood. In most cases, it’s actually quite the opposite: it’s more likely that your compassion and big heart got the better of you, to the degree that the relationship morphed into that which we clinicians call “co-dependency”. There is such thing, believe it or not, as caring too much, or having too much empathy. Both end poorly in almost every scenario, from professional conflict to special education, from couples to teenage bowling leagues.Thanks for reading honestly unorthodox.! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.With two people fluent in the art of self-awareness and boundary-enforcing, I’m not entirely convinced co-dependency is inherently negative. Grown adults with the emotional maturity to recognize when “enough is enough” could very much lean on people just enough before they decide to piece together the own mess that is their life. This is what friends are for, right?As social creatures who very much derive meaning from our relationships, the ability to lean on, and even occasionally depend on others, is what forms strong bonds and bolsters our sense of self. My husband, for example, was clearly placed on planet earth to fish the absolutely disgusting hair slugs from the shower drain for me, even though the slug is comprised entirely of my own hair and that fact in and of itself could be ammunition he should probably use against me. Alas, he doesn’t. We’ve moved beyond the chuckles and the eye rolls to Dylan simply scooping out squirrel-shaped logs and whipping them toward me playfully, as if I do not behave like a toddler being shoved an airplane-spoon of peas. Knowing he’s available for this honest work, and willing to do it for me even though he, too, finds it disgusting, is a faction of our relationship that I most treasure. And laugh at.Helping people, for me, typically results in a bodily sensation best described as my every fiber aglow or aflame. There is truth to the warm glow that is born of altruism, which I suppose Andrew Huberman has lectured about being related to some brain region entirely unpronounceable but it doesn’t matter because he’s very not ugly. He’s also spoken about the neurochemistry of gratitude, with novel neural pathways developing with every consistent action we take toward servicing another person. Helping also feels, in a perverse way, mildly addicting. Few things in this life garner that sensation of your senses smoldering, of a heightened belief in the self as a wonderful person that can conquer most any feat all because we’ve propped up another clumsy human. This even occurs when we’ve assisted or supported someone undeserving of help, or the asshole who is outwardly unappreciative of it. It’s no wonder the hyper-compassionate feel compelled to volunteer their organs, even if it means their own life is at risk.One of the most common examples I’ve seen of this phenomenon in recent years is the envy that strikes the former provider in therapy fields. As clinicians, we’re often transferring cases between one another. This occurs for logistical reasons, like geographic location, or simply not seeing progress for an extensive period of time. Some providers will transfer a case to me with thorough anecdotes and delicate warnings, all in hushed tones as if there’s a tacit understanding between them and the client that the client will truly crumble without this person’s presence and service. “How will I ever live without you?!” is what we all subtly yearn to hear, considering the tearful encounters and the late hours spent agonizing over this wildly frustrating person’s progress. In a way, such thoughtful expression of their appreciation would be symbolic of the effort we’ve devoted to the now-positive trajectory of their once-shitty life. But wouldn’t you have it! The client not only responds in a manner far more neutral than expected, but they go on to demonstrate even greater self-awareness, self-control, and independence than we believed was possible without our counsel. A client a few years ago verbatim told me, “Ugh, thank God. I was getting kind of bored of talking to you anyway.”And then you’re heartbroken, although not in the same manner as an unrequited love or ugly divorce. That identity you hold dear, that which is some form of a hero, is immediately invalidated by your client’s abrupt behavior, behavior which, in the grand scheme of things, denotes real progress. We’re supposed to be happy that our clients pull from their toolbox without our guidance---unless we’ve identified so strongly with this “savior” role that we’re unsure who we are unless we’re desperately clawed at by the client (both metaphorically and literally). As twisted as it may sound, this fear is quite common; that is, the fear that we’re so insignificant we’re good as forgotten. It has happened to me over the course of my career, although far less so in recent years. Such is the power of perception and a strong sense of self outside of what we’re paid to do.Part of this conundrum is the belief that you’ve invested so much time and energy into this one person that any progress they make must be at least, in part, due to your counsel. You’re 100K in student loan debt, after all--- I’d hope to Christ your expertise is footing the bill at least some of the time. I’ve never been arrogant enough to believe that I’ve changed anyone’s life, or that their journey toward self-betterment would be unattainable if not for me. But I have experienced the sting of being less important than I thought. And, when people come to rely on you for events ranging from trivial to catastrophic, it’s even that much more challenging to determine where your support ranks on their list of significance. “Kayla helps me because she has a nice face” is flimsy testimony of a job well done. Or a job done at all.We fall into traps of stealing others’ opportunities for competence but believing we’re helping. We get to play the noble martyr. We get to play dress-up as the hero we were never capable of becoming if not for this pathetic loser who has told us for the seventh time that they’ll really go to rehab and this time will be different, all because of us. Even though we outwardly express our exasperation with their shitty decisions, there’s also a part of us that demands they stay sick, disabled, and in need of our expertise. And I’m not even sure this happens consciously- it usually takes an outside party to reveal to us the truth we’ve coyly modified. The reality that is us actually hindering a person’s movement forward for our own selfish reasons. It’s deeper than craving chaos or thriving on theatrics--- it’s a buried desire to feel relevant.To be clear, I’ve yet to meet a single person who pays umpteen thousand dollars in student loans to obtain a clinical license all for the sake of sabotaging a person’s goals. I haven’t even heard so much as a person state that they feel a sense of joy when their client plateaus week after month after year. It’s something that just happens when two people have been battling for betterment together for too long. The co-dependent tango is a relational corruption that typically takes several months or even years to develop, and the development is slow enough that it’s almost untraceable. It’s a subtle metamorphosis in both the client and the practitioner, where roles change ever so slightly, , but over time amount to a complete reversal of parts. The clinician is now desperately holding on to the relationship, as they believe the person’s entire livelihood is at risk, while the client continues to leech off of this useless help all while reassuring the clinician that they would be dead without them, please stay, please help, this time is different, I promise.Clinical psychologist Dr. Siggie posted a quote recently that applies here: “Too many parents make life too hard for their children by, overzealously, trying to make life easy for them.” In other words: you’re probably an enabler. I am also an enabler. I enabled my brother Conner, along with my parents, until he eventually died of a Fentanyl overdose that was frankly a long time coming. It happens. It doesn’t make enablers bad people; it means we’re humans who struggle to draw the line between empowerment and permissiveness.A world chockfull of “help” has managed to obliterate the mental health of children and adults alike. Perhaps it’s always worth it to ask, then, what part we’re playing in a person’s struggles.Occasionally, it’s the help we forcefully project onto them. So be like Elsa and let it go.Thanks for reading honestly unorthodox.! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit honestlyunorthodox.substack.com