Hey friends, it’s Tina. Pull up a chair, grab a coffee (or something stronger, I don’t judge), and let’s have a little heart-to-heart.
You know “that person” in every friend group or family dynamic? The one who acts like the unofficial, unpaid HR department? The one who sees a crack in a friendship and immediately runs for the industrial-strength Gorilla Glue?
Yeah. That’s been me. For years.
The Unpaid HR Department of Friendships
If there was a misunderstanding, I was the one sending the “Hey, can we talk?” text. If someone was acting distant, I was the one doing mental gymnastics trying to figure out what I did wrong or how I could “fix” their mood. I’ve spent a significant portion of my adult life being a bridge-builder, a peace-maker, and a professional smoother-over of things that probably should have stayed rough.
But lately? I’ve entered a new era. Let’s call it my “Standing Room Only” phase.
The “Standing Room Only” Era
The image I’m looking at right now sums it up perfectly. It says: “I’m usually the person that tries to fix bonds and friendships but lately I’ve been letting people stand on how they feel. We ain’t never gotta talk again. That’s perfectly fine by me.”
When I first read that, I felt it in my soul. I realized I was exhausted. I was tired of being the only one holding the rope in a game of tug-of-war where the other person wasn’t even pulling—they had already walked away to go get a snack!
The Exhaustion of Constant Maintenance
I’ve spent so much energy trying to convince people to value me, or trying to “explain” my heart to people who were committed to misunderstanding me. It’s like trying to teach a cat to bark. It’s frustrating, it’s a waste of time, and the cat just looks at you like you’re the problem.
So, here is my new philosophy: If you want to be mad at me? Stand on it. If you want to believe a version of a story that makes me the villain so you can feel better about your choices? Get comfortable. Take a seat. Buy a souvenir.
The Freedom of Stopping the Chase
There is a strange, terrifying, and ultimately hilarious freedom in just… stopping. I’ve stopped chasing. I’ve stopped the “just checking in” texts to people who only respond with one-word answers. I’ve stopped trying to mend fences that the other person is actively setting on fire.
The humor in it? Seeing the look on people’s faces when they realize I’m not coming to the rescue this time. It’s like they’re waiting for “Tina the Fixer” to show up with a toolbox and a plate of cookies to apologize for something they did, and instead, they just get… silence.
Tip: Silence is actually a very loud answer. And it saves a lot of battery life on your phone.
Retiring from Project Management
People ask me, “Tina, aren’t you worried about losing friends?”
And honestly? If the only thing keeping us “friends” was my constant effort to fix everything you broke, then we weren’t really friends. We were a project. And I am officially retiring from project management.
I’ve realized that the people who belong in my life don’t require me to perform an emotional circus act just to stay there. The bonds that are meant to last don’t need a 24/7 maintenance crew.
Holding Boundaries Instead of Grudges
To the people I “ain’t never gotta talk to again”—I mean this with all the love and zero bitterness: I wish you the best, far away from me. I’m not holding a grudge; I’m holding a boundary. There’s a difference. Holding a grudge is heavy; holding a boundary is like putting down a heavy suitcase you’ve been carrying through an airport for ten miles. My shoulders feel lighter. My skin is clearing up. My peace of mind is at an all-time high.
If we never speak again, it’s not because I hate you. It’s because I finally started loving my own peace more than I loved the idea of “fixing” us.
Permission to Put Down the Toolbox
So, if you’re reading this and you’re the “Fixer” of your group—the one who is always “fixing bonds” while yours are the ones breaking—give yourself permission to just stop.
Let them think what they want. Let them feel how they feel. Let them stand on it. You might find that once you stop trying to bridge the gap, you have a lot more energy to enjoy the view on your side of the canyon.
I’m currently over here with a glass of wine, enjoying the quiet. And trust me, the quiet sounds amazing.