My father got engaged.
That's not really the story. The story is what happened inside my head afterward.
Because while most people hear news like that and move on with their day, my brain immediately starts building spreadsheets nobody asked for.
How does everyone feel about this? Did they get a chance to react honestly? What happens if this follows the same pattern as before? What does this mean for the family? Who might get hurt? Who needs protecting? Who needs someone to say something?
For a few days, I was less a daughter and more an unpaid crisis consultant for a family emergency that hadn't actually happened.
The worst part is that I know better.
I've spent years in therapy untangling my relationship with my father. Years learning that his choices are his choices. Years learning that other adults are allowed to have their own feelings, boundaries, and responses without me stepping in to manage them.
I know this. And yet…
The engagement didn't just bring up feelings about my father. It brought me face-to-face with an old role.
The fixer.
The one who sees a potential problem and immediately starts planning solutions.
Not because anyone asked her to. Because somebody had to.
Or at least that's what she learned when she was young.
When a parent is inconsistent, emotionally unavailable, or unpredictable, children become incredibly good at reading the room. They learn to anticipate reactions before they happen. They learn to smooth things over, manage emotions, and carry responsibilities that never belonged to them.
The problem is that those skills don't disappear when you become an adult.
They just get better disguised. It looks like being helpful, caring, concerned, or loyal. And while those might be true, they’re also riddled with anxiety about seeing old patterns emerge and being desperate to stop them.
For me, OCD loves this role. OCD sees uncertainty and immediately starts searching for an action item.
A problem to solve. A conversation to have. A future disaster to prevent.
Anything is better than sitting with uncertainty.
Anything is better than accepting that people I love might get hurt and there is nothing I can do about it.
That's the part I'm still learning. Not how to fix things. How to leave them alone.
How to trust that other adults can navigate their own relationships and speak for themselves. Trust that the consequences of someone else's choices belong to them, and only them.
How to tolerate the discomfort of watching a situation unfold without inserting myself into the middle of it.
Because the truth is, nobody asked me to carry this. Nobody handed me this responsibility. I picked it up because it feels familiar, but it isn't always healthy.
Some days healing doesn't look like having the perfect boundary.
It looks like noticing you've slipped back into an old role and gently putting it down again. Over and over. As many times as it takes.
My father got engaged. And for a moment, I became the family fixer again.
The real work isn't figuring out what happens next.
The real work is remembering that it isn't my job to.
Talk soon,
Tara
CEO of Chaos & Co.