“Did you remember to...?”
You already know how that sentence ends, don't you?
Did you remember to turn it in? Did you remember to call? Did you remember to send that email? Did you remember to put that on the calendar?
And if they didn't?
It's fine. You remembered.
You always remember.
You remind, follow up, double-check, catch the thing before it becomes a problem and step in when something starts going sideways.
You're helpful like that.
Until one day you look around and think...
Why am I the only person who thinks about anything around here?
Fair question.
But I have another one, and I don't particularly like it:
Have we accidentally taught people that they don't have to?
Oof.
This is where being capable can get us into trouble because overfunctioning doesn't necessarily look dysfunctional while you're doing it.
Quite the opposite. It works.
Things get done. Problems get solved. Nobody misses the deadline because you caught it. The permission slip gets signed because you remembered. The project keeps moving because you followed up.
Whatever ball somebody else dropped barely touches the ground before you've scooped it up and put it back where it belongs.
Look at us go.
Except after a while, you start noticing something. You're still the one remembering, reminding, checking and fixing. And now you're irritated because apparently nobody can do anything without you.
This is the part where we have to be willing to look at the system we've helped create.
Because every time we step in, we're solving today's problem. But what are we teaching everyone about tomorrow's?
If you always remind, they don't have much reason to remember. If you always catch the mistake, they don't experience what happens when they miss it. If you solve the problem before it becomes uncomfortable, they don't get much practice figuring out what to do when things go wrong.
And if you always know what's next, everybody gets pretty comfortable asking you.
That doesn't mean people are intentionally taking advantage of you. Sometimes we've simply become so reliable that everyone — including us — has settled into their role.
You remember, they get reminded. You notice, they respond. You plan, they ask what the plan is.
It works beautifully.
Until you're completely over it.
Then we can end up resentful toward people for playing the exact role we've spent years making very easy for them to play.
I know. That's not nearly as satisfying as deciding everybody else needs to step it up.
And to be clear, sometimes they absolutely do.
This isn't about taking responsibility for someone else's laziness, irresponsibility or refusal to participate. Other adults are responsible for themselves.
It's about noticing when our behavior is helping a pattern continue that we keep saying we want to change.
Because there's a difference between helping someone and functioning for them.
Helping says, “I'm here if you need me.”
Overfunctioning says, “I already saw what you were going to need, took care of it, reminded you twice and made a backup plan just in case.”
Very efficient. Also a great way to make yourself indispensable.
And being indispensable can feel good for a while. People need you. They trust you. You're the person who knows what's going on. There's a certain amount of security in that role too because if you're the one holding everything together, you always know where everything stands.
But being needed for everything gets heavy.
Eventually you can find yourself desperately wanting other people to take more ownership while still jumping in before they have a real chance to.
That's the part we can actually change.
Not by announcing, “Fine! I'm not doing anything anymore!”
Tempting.
But probably not our best work.
It starts by leaving some things where they belong.
Your teenager forgot something they were responsible for? There may be a consequence.
Someone at work comes to you with a problem they can solve? Instead of giving them the answer, ask what they think they should do.
Your spouse said they'd handle something? Let them handle it without reminding them three times how you'd like it handled.
Will this always go perfectly?
Absolutely not.
That's sort of the point.
People learn ownership by getting to own things. And ownership includes remembering, deciding, solving, making mistakes, dealing with consequences and trying again.
If we remove all of those uncomfortable parts, we've removed most of the learning too.
This is hard with people we love because stepping back can feel mean when we know we could prevent the problem.
Especially with our kids.
You can see the forgotten homework sitting on the counter. You know exactly what's about to happen, and every instinct says, Grab it! Take it to school! Save the day!
And sometimes you will.
Grace exists. People forget things. We don't need to turn every mistake into a character-building exercise.
But if we're constantly rescuing people from responsibilities they're capable of carrying, we shouldn't be shocked when they don't become very good at carrying them.
The same thing happens in leadership.
Being the person with all the answers can make you look like an excellent leader for a while. Developing people who don't need you to have all the answers is a different kind of leadership.
That requires more patience. It also requires being willing to watch someone do something slower, differently or less perfectly than you would.
Which, yes, takes us right back to trust.
Faith challenges this in me too.
There's a difference between being faithful with what God has given me to carry and assuming that everything I can see is therefore mine to manage.
It isn't.
Other people have responsibilities too. Other people need room to grow. And I don't have to be necessary to every outcome in order to matter.
That one is worth sitting with.
So if you've been wondering why everyone seems to depend on you for everything, don't automatically assume the answer is that you need to become less helpful.
Look at the pattern.
Where are you reminding someone who could remember? Solving something they could figure out? Taking back something you've already handed over? Preventing a consequence that might actually teach what your reminders haven't?
You don't need to drop everything at once.
Just stop picking up one thing that never belonged to you.
Then leave enough room for somebody else to notice it's theirs.
Want to keep going with this conversation?
🎧 Listen to Episode 49: Why Overfunctioning Is Quietly Costing You More Than You Realize →