When Being Capable Becomes A Curse

For the ones who always hold it together: this one’s for you. We’re talking about what it costs to be the capable one, and how to find balance between being dependable and being human.

Chapters

• 0:00 Welcome back
• 1:39 Being overworked and unseen
• 6:00 How others label you as the capable one and start depending on it
• 13:38 How you internalize that label and start overextending yourself
• 19:29 How to reclaim balance and redefine what being capable really means.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00: 0:00

Whether it's at work, at home, with your friends, or with the people you love. Once you've been the one who gets it done, everyone just assumes you always will. And when you look like you've got it handled, people stop asking if you're okay. A podcast about learning to live with care, to move through the myths and the meaning, and to see yourself a little clearer every time. It's your host, Donovan, and there is nothing I love more than meeting you here time after time. Quick note before we dive in: donations is a space for reflection and perspective. I'm not a therapist, just your cousin with a mic. Sharing what's helped me heal and grow, so take what serves you and leave what doesn't. Like my nine to five job. Sometimes the waters are calm and I'm just floating through them, making sure all is good, and other times the waters get pretty rocky. It's like I'm Johnny Tsunami trying to make it out of a big swell or something. Especially during major project go lives. Those can get pretty brutal. I mean, they do have moments of excitement too, yes. There's usually a command center set up for go lives. They're provided with food and snacks, and there was even a certified masseuse with a chair set up one time. And when we had time to take a break, we'd go and sit down and get a massage. And it was super nice. But even things like that make it hard to look past the brutal parts. Go lives usually kick off in the middle of the night. So if you're not used to graveyard shift, good luck adjusting. And on top of that, even with definite shift start and end times, usually spanning somewhere around 12 hours per shift, I don't think I've ever left when I was supposed to. It was usually way past my time to go when I finally got to go home. I remember one time in particular, probably my worst go live experience. I got to the command center around like 10 p.m. and didn't leave until 5:30, almost 6 p.m. the next day. I was running on little to no sleep the whole time, and I was the only IT analyst covering my department. And tickets were just coming in left and right. It was sink or swim. And even though I was checking each issue off the list and resolving them, it felt like no one really cared. Like it wasn't a big deal to anybody. All anyone cared about were metrics and how quick those issues could be resolved. And by our, I don't even know, I had had enough. I had to get out of there. My boss had already gone home, and out of habit and respect, I texted her before leaving to make sure all was good and that I could go, but I never got a reply. So I just got tired of waiting and I packed up and left. I did more than just my part. I solved every ticket thrown my way, and I should have felt proud. And I mean a part of me definitely did, but instead, a bigger part of me just felt exhausted and invisible. I don't even think my family really understood it either. To them it was just Donovan doing the work Donovan does the same way I always have. A couple days later, someone said, Wow, Donovan handled himself so well, he didn't even seem phased. And I appreciated it. But at the same time, it kind of stung. Because that's when I realized, whether it's at work, at home, with your friends, or with the people you love, once you've been the one who gets it done, everyone just assumes you always will. And when you look like you've got it handled, people stop asking if you're okay. That's the curse of the capable. So the curse of the capable, what is it? It's your strength working against you. It's basically your strength becoming your burden. It's when, because you've always been the dependable, capable, unwavering one, people always expect that from you. If you've gotten through tough times before, your family, friends, or whoever it is, just assume that you always will. They'll be present and come to you during their chaos, but not during yours. Or they'll ask how you are, but only after they've used your emotional stability as their crutch. And asking just feels like formality at that point. And it's like they don't really engage any further than that. Asking how you are can feel half-hearted at that point, but it's because you're always the one who gets through anything. Family, friends, whoever it is, they skip the check-in text or the follow-through, or offering the help because you've got it. Or you become the emotional adult in every room. You clean up the mess, physically and emotionally. Or if you've made the plans or reservations before, you're just expected to do it again. They just show up ready to have a good time. Or you make the most in the family, so therefore you pick up the bill, or are expected to help out the most. That's usually how it starts. Not with us, but with them. The people who love us, trust us, depend on us, they stop checking in because they think we've got it handled. They start leaning a little harder because we've always held steady. And before you know it, what feels like praise starts to feel like pressure. And things like this do sometimes feel like they're used against you. Like you're the valet people drop their keys or luggage off with, leaving all responsibility to you. And a hard truth in this as well is that some of us like being needed. Some of us like being able to say yes. It can make you feel purposeful and valued and even proud. But only until it starts to cost you. And that's another part of this curse. A dangerous part. When we start to look through that lens ourselves. We don't notice how much we're being relied on or how much we're caring for someone else. And we start to think it's just how certain relationships are supposed to go. We start believing we're the only one, the only answer to every problem. We start believing that being capable and not needing help is the only way some relationships thrive. Sometimes it's the boundaries you don't set, or the guilt you carry, or the extra weight you take on, because you feel that's what people expect of you. Or worse, who they expect you to be. And my personal favorite, when you've accomplished a thing or two, no matter how big or small, everyone starts holding you to that same standard. Even yourself. Especially yourself. You forget that you're human and that being capable doesn't mean you can't fall apart sometimes. The curse of the capable is like no one's ever had to worry about you when it comes to being okay. So they don't. And where are you in all of that? Most likely, buried under resentment, exhaustion, or loneliness. Speaking of resentment, I remember being assigned a group project in my senior English class. We were reading Frankenstein and had to present a song and its lyrics to the class that captured one of the book's deeper emotional themes. And I say group project lightly because we basically just paired off. And my partner was a good friend of mine at the time, but I should have known better. It was always a toss-up whether she'd even show up to class. And she made it clear early on that she didn't get the concept of the project and didn't really care to try. And my get a good grade panic kicked in. So I did the whole thing myself. Yeah, getting stuck doing all the work for a group project actually happens in real life. But it was mostly fine because it meant I got to pick the song. I just told myself it was easier that way. I wanted the grade, I wanted the control, I wanted it done right. Sometimes the curse will have you questioning if I don't step up to that hurdle and work to get over it, then am I even lovable? Do I still hold my place? It gives you purpose, yes, but it's also exhausting. And I know I'm just talking about a group project here, but it really does get that deep sometimes. And we finally presented it to the class, and when it was over, she just sighed with relief, like she'd been the one stressing. No thank you, no acknowledgement, just relief. And honestly, I can't even be mad about it. Because, in a way, I trained people to see me that way. I made it easy. Easier to just do it myself than risk a bad grade or an awkward moment. I started believing and telling myself, if you want something done right, you're gonna have to do it yourself. How isolating is that? I think after that project, I started noticing the pattern everywhere. It felt good being the one people relied on and thought highly of in that regard. But it didn't feel great not being worried about or checked in on. It maybe gave me purpose, it made me feel like I mattered, but at the same time, it felt like a part of me had disappeared. And it can be human nature to combat feeling like you disappeared with making sure your presence is known, doing everything in your power to make sure your presence is known. And if you're the capable one, that looks like not asking, should I be doing this? And instead asking, why isn't anyone else doing this? It's this subtle slide from helpful to hyper responsible. And it can feel noble until it doesn't. It can feel harmless until it isn't. Because after a while, you don't even wait for someone to hand you the problem. You just take it. And you take it because it's easier than watching someone struggle. You take it because it's faster, it's cleaner, it's more controlled that way. And maybe deep down because fixing things makes you feel safe and seen. You mistake control for peace. And you mistake exhaustion for purpose. And you mistake silence for stability. And I think that's where it starts to turn on you. And if you grow up with siblings, you know how early that starts. Mine used to ask me every random question, or how do you do this? Under the sun. And at first I was like, see, I'm good to have around, right? But after a while, after so many questions, or so many how do you do this, it was like, damn, Gina, I don't even work here. But I love them for it. I can't lie. It taught me a lot. Most people who lean on you like that, they mean well. It's because they trust you. They just don't realize how heavy that trust can get sometimes. The same goes for those that feel like they don't have to worry about you. I think it's sometimes a relief that you're okay. Not really an expectation. Though it can feel like it, it sure isn't always malicious, but it can still get tiring. The curse can feel like this quiet little training ground teaching you that being useful equals being loved. And that's a dangerous part too, right? Because it can grow from someone looking for an answer to something to you learning to anticipate that and even try to answer it before they even ask you. You start stepping in before anyone calls on you, and even start softening the blow before they can feel it. You know, I've always said and believed that as a friend, sibling, or whatever, you can be there for someone to lean on. You can be there for someone till the sun goes down. But you can't walk their path for them. You can't save them or learn lessons for them. And that's where the curse flips, when being capable turns from confidence into control. When you start believing it's your job to keep everyone else afloat, when they actually need to learn how to swim on their own. And when you tie your identity to being the capable one, you start believing that you're protecting people. But what you're really doing is protecting yourself from the discomfort of watching someone you love fail or fall or get it wrong. What you're really doing is robbing them of their chance to rise. And suddenly, you're not just carrying your own weight, you're carrying everyone else's potential, too. When your love becomes overextension, when I've got it turns into I have to. When your care becomes a cage for you and for them. And maybe that's the hardest part to unlearn. Realizing that your capability isn't supposed to save everyone. It's just supposed to remind you that you've saved yourself before. And that's enough. I don't want capability to be my only story. I want room to stretch and to breathe and to be every part of me. Not just the steady one. There's nothing wrong with being needed. In fact, that's connection. That's love. But sometimes being needed can start taking away people's power without us even realizing it. And somewhere along the way, what began as love turns into management. People see what we can handle and stop wondering what it costs. They call it strength, not realizing sometimes that it's survival. And it's taught me that when you're the reliable one, when you're the capable one, people can get comfortable relying on you. They forget you still have limits. And it's taught me that when you tie your worth to what you can fix, you end up mistaking control for peace. And also, it's taught me that capability without compassion for yourself becomes a slow kind of erosion. You start fading from your own life trying to hold everyone else's together. And please don't take all of this out of context. Being capable isn't a bad thing. No matter what umbrella you fall under or what your experience with being the capable one is, it's not a bad thing. Hell yeah, you can handle your own. You've proved that a thousand times over. You're confident, you stand tall, you trust yourself, and you know you've got what it takes, no matter what season you're in. But sometimes, unfortunately, that strength gets used against you. Not always out of cruelty, but convenience. People don't check in on you, people let you carry the load because you've always carried it so well. You've always been okay. The truth is, capability was never meant to be punishment. It was meant to be proof. Proof of what you've overcome and not the reason you have to keep proving it. So here's the path forward. You can still be the dependable one. But start pairing your dependability with discernment. You can still show up, but stop showing up at the cost of yourself. Let people rise. Let people fail. Let them learn. That's how love matures. And when you do step in, do it because you choose to. Not because you feel like you have to. You can give people the dignity of their own lessons, and give yourself the grace of being human. Because you are not just the fixer. You are the friend, the family member, the sibling, the person who deserves to be checked on. You are the person who gets to rest. You are the one who's allowed to be soft. It's a beautiful thing to be capable. But it's even more beautiful to be whole. So maybe that's the journaling work for this week. What all do you offer, and what all do you get to be when you aren't defined by capability? Start defining yourself by more than what you can carry. If you like this episode, please don't forget to leave a review on the show's page and share it on your socials. And if you want more, subscribe to Donations Plus exclusively on Apple Podcasts. And I'm so happy to finally share the official donations website is live. You can catch up on past episodes, read the blog, and dive into everything else at donations.com. That's donations with a hyphen in it.com. Remember, my friend, you are so much more than capable. Until the next one.