Embracing "That's Not My Problem" With Joy

Once Upon a Time, I Was the Fixer

For most of my life, I genuinely believed that if a problem appeared in my orbit, it was mine to solve. Leaky roof? I’ll get a ladder. Emotional meltdown in aisle five? Let me get tissues and a life plan. I could MacGyver my way through other people’s chaos with gaffa tape and a smile. I did safety audits in my dreams and woke up ready to conduct a risk analysis before my morning tea. I was the go-to in any emergency – real or imagined.

It wasn’t so much about being helpful, really. It was more that I was usually the most organised and competent person in the room. And honestly? Rather than listen to the whining, it felt easier to just fix things myself. Voila, job done. Type-A personality to the rescue once again, clipboard in hand and that slow burn green-tea caffeine in my veins.

Then one day, in the middle of trying to untangle someone’s looming deadline, once again, it hit me: I’m not here to fix your problems for you, Jennifer. Revolutionary, I know. Your panic is not my panic. Your poor planning is not my emergency. That is well and truly above my paygrade. And let me tell you, the liberation that came from that realisation tasted sweeter than my best ever cup of strawberry matcha.

Your Chaos Is Not My Calling

Some people wear their chaos like a crumbled paper crown from a Christmas cracker. Their calendar is always a mess, their deadlines are always last-minute, and they’re always surprised when things go wrong. And for the longest time, I felt like it was my job to swoop in and help. Was it because I’m Type-A and wanted to prove how clever I am? Or was it the chronic people pleaser in me who thought it was my duty to solve everyone’s crises? Probably both. But let’s be real: that sort of chaos is more often than not self-inflicted.

There’s a difference between supporting someone through a genuine crisis and enabling someone’s chronic disorganisation. These days, when someone calls me in a panic because they forgot to plan ahead, I smile and repeat my inner mantra: “Your lack of planning is not my emergency.” After all, how will they learn to do their job, live their life, or walk on their own two feet if we’re always swooping in to save them?

It’s not cold. It’s clarity. It’s choosing peace over panic. It’s refusing to let other people’s chaos hijack your nervous system. And sometimes, it’s the most loving thing you can do for both of you.

How to Let Go Without Feeling Like a Bitch

Choose Grace Over Guilt

The biggest hurdle in all of this is often the guilt. Especially if you’re a chronic helper, saying “no” or “not my problem” can feel like abandoning someone on the side of a rainy motorway, next to a giant puddle, with a bus speeding towards said puddle. But guilt is not proof that you’ve done something wrong. It’s just proof that you’re learning to break an old habit.

Choosing not to fix something doesn’t make you heartless. It means you’re creating space for your own needs, your own priorities, and your own healing. And trust me, the people who truly respect you will respect your boundaries. The ones who don’t? Well, they were probably more interested in your usefulness than your wellbeing anyway.

Remind yourself that you’re allowed to be supportive without being a sponge. You don’t have to absorb everyone else’s stress to prove you care. You can love people and still let them deal with their own mess. That’s real maturity. And it’s wildly underrated.

Get Comfortable with Awkward Silences

Sometimes when you stop fixing, there’s a silence. A pause. A moment where the other person looks at you, expecting a rescue that doesn’t come. And that moment? That’s growth. For both of you.

Let it be awkward. Let them sit in it. Let them wiggle uncomfortably as they realise you’re not about to drop everything and save the day. That discomfort is where responsibility lives. And giving someone the gift of accountability is one of the kindest things you can do.

I’m not saying you should ghost your mates or leave your colleagues soaking wet after aforementioned bus drove straight through the puddle at speed. But when you gently say, “you’ve got this,” and leave space for them to rise to the occasion, you’re offering something far more valuable than a quick fix. You’re offering empowerment. And a towel.

Laugh at the Absurdity of It All

There is a special kind of joy that comes from seeing someone spin themselves into a tangle and thinking, with love, “That’s not my problem.” Not because you’re smug. But because you’ve finally unhooked your self-worth from the outcome. You can witness the drama without auditioning for a starring role like the Main Character you are.

I like to imagine myself as a chaotic neutral bystander (cue Chaos Goblin), sipping tea while the world goes mildly inane and insane around me. Not disengaged, but detached enough to laugh instead of spiral. It’s a delicious shift.

And look, sometimes you will get dragged in. Sometimes your boundaries will wobble. But each time you remember that you are not the emergency response unit for everyone’s life, you get a little stronger. A little lighter. A little closer to peace.

They’re learning resilience. You’re learning how to stay in your own lane. Growth all around.

Final Thoughts from a Reformed Fixer

Letting go of other people’s problems isn’t selfish. It’s sacred. It’s the art of living in your own lane, tending your own garden, and refusing to set yourself on fire just to keep someone else warm. Even if you could do it faster, better, and with a colour-coded spreadsheet.

It’s not always easy. Type-A habits die hard. But the freedom that comes with releasing that control? Bliss. Once you get a taste of it, you won’t want to go back. You’ll wonder why you ever thought it was your job to carry everything in the first place.

So the next time someone rocks up late, disorganised, or mid-drama and looks to you with puppy-dog eyes, take a breath. Smile. And let your soul softly whisper: “That’s not my problem.” Then make a cup of tea and get back to your glorious, peaceful life. Preferably with Cheezels.

A Little Love Note to You

You are not a bin for other people’s problems. You are a whole human being with your own dreams, your own time, and your own peace to protect. You deserve space. You deserve rest. And you deserve to say, with clarity and kindness, “That’s not my problem.”

Protect your peace. Guard your joy. And keep being the beautifully boundary-honouring chaos goblin you were born to be.

We Need to Stop Clapping for Basic Decency – Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity

In today's episode of Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity, we're unpacking why we need to stop clapping for basic decency. You know the script. A man texts back within twenty-four hours and we're screenshotting it to the group chat. A man plans a date more than three hours in advance and we call him a unicorn. A man manages to listen, pay attention, and behave like a fully formed adult, and our nervous systems short-circuit because we genuinely don't know how to receive it.Here's the truth nobody is saying out loud. The bar has been dragged so low that Satan himself needs a chiropractor after a competitive round of limbo. We've been culturally trained to be grateful for behaviour that should not require gratitude. We've been told these things are bonuses when they're actually the entry requirement. And in the meantime, women have been quietly doing the basic decency thing forever, without applause, while men get standing ovations for outputs we generated for them.Today we're talking about why a great man is genuinely just an average woman, who benefits when the bar stays low, the invisible labour women have been performing for free for centuries, and the friend-test that cuts straight through every excuse we've ever made for mediocre men. Let's get into it.For more visit BryJaimea.com or follow over on IG @BryJaimea

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