Nobody Could Help Me Because Nobody Could Do It “Right”

For years, I thought I was surrounded by people who simply couldn’t do things correctly.

I don’t mean that in a cute, quirky, I’m particular about how the towels are folded kind of way.

I mean I had standards.

Standards for how things should be done. Standards for how people should behave. Standards for how responsible adults should operate. Standards for how quickly someone should figure something out, how much effort they should put in, how they should communicate, how they should handle their emotions.

And wouldn’t you know it?

I was apparently the only qualified employee in the entire operation. 😂

If somebody offered to help, there was a good chance I’d watch them do it and think:

That’s not how I would’ve done it.

Sometimes I’d correct them.

Sometimes I’d redo it.

And sometimes I’d skip the entire process and just do it myself because explaining it was going to take longer than doing it.

Then, after doing everything myself, I would become exhausted and wonder why in the hell nobody ever helped me.

The irony is almost offensive now.

I had created a system where people could help me—as long as they did everything exactly the way I would have done it.

Which isn’t really help.

That’s hiring an unpaid understudy to play me.

And apparently auditions were brutal.

The Standard I Couldn’t See

It took healing for me to realize that my expectations of other people weren’t really about other people.

They were a reflection of the relationship I had with myself.

I was hard on everyone because I was merciless with me.

I expected myself to know better.

Do better.

Try harder.

Be responsible.

Figure it out.

Push through.

Don’t inconvenience anyone.

Don’t screw it up.

Don’t need too much help.

And for God’s sake, do it right.

I had spent so much of my life holding myself against an invisible measuring stick that I didn’t even realize I was carrying that same stick around and measuring everybody else with it.

She’s too this.

He’s too that.

They should’ve known better.

Why would anybody do it that way?

The voice judging them was the same voice that had been judging me.

I just didn’t recognize it because when that voice was pointed outward, I called it having standards.

When it was pointed inward, I called it motivation.

Both were exhausting.

When Judgment Started Getting Curious

Something changed when I started learning to love myself without requiring myself to earn it first.

I started giving myself permission to be human.

To get things wrong.

To change my mind.

To rest.

To not know.

To learn something slowly.

To have flaws that weren’t projects requiring immediate renovation.

And strangely, as I loosened my grip on myself, I noticed my grip loosening on everybody else too.

The constant commentary in my head started getting quieter.

Not because I had successfully trained myself to think only beautiful, loving thoughts.

That would’ve just been another ridiculous standard.

But when a judgment appeared, I started getting curious about it.

Why does this bother me?

Sometimes there was legitimate discernment underneath it.

Something could be unkind, irresponsible, unhealthy, or simply incompatible with how I wanted to live.

But other times?

There was a wound hiding underneath the judgment.

Someone else’s confidence bothered the part of me that had learned she needed to prove her worth.

Someone else’s imperfection bothered the part of me that wasn’t allowed to make mistakes.

Someone else’s freedom bothered the part of me that had spent years following invisible rules.

And someone doing something differently than I would?

Lord have mercy.

Apparently civilization itself was hanging in the balance. 😂

Different Isn’t Wrong

That may have been one of the most freeing lessons of all:

Different isn’t automatically wrong.

Someone can fold a towel differently and the towel will somehow survive.

Someone can load a dishwasher using a system that appears to have been developed by raccoons and, against all odds, the dishes may still become clean.

Someone can solve a problem differently.

Parent differently.

Organize differently.

Communicate differently.

Live differently.

They don’t have to become more like me before I can allow them to be themselves.

And I don’t have to become more like them either.

That’s the part I hadn’t understood.

When you give other people permission to be themselves, you’re really giving yourself permission to be yourself too.

You get to be you.

I get to be me.

Neither of us has to prove that our way of being human is the correct one.

Permission Isn’t Proximity

Accepting people as they are doesn’t mean accepting every behavior into my life.

That’s something I understand differently now too.

I can see someone clearly and think:

Yep. That’s who you are.

And then decide:

And that’s not something I want close to me.

Acceptance doesn’t require access.

Love doesn’t require self-abandonment.

Understanding someone doesn’t create an obligation to tolerate behavior that harms me.

I don’t have to make someone bad in order to decide they’re not good for me.

That’s a completely different kind of freedom.

I can stop trying to remodel people and simply decide where they belong in my life.

I Was Carrying Everything

And maybe that’s why I was so tired.

I thought exhaustion was evidence of how much responsibility I carried.

Some of it was.

But some of it was evidence of how little I allowed anyone else to carry.

I couldn’t hand someone a box without mentally inspecting their lifting technique.

Then I’d complain that my arms hurt.

😂

I spent years wondering why I had to carry everything alone without realizing I was standing at the door of my own life checking everyone’s credentials before I’d let them help carry a box.

Nobody was qualified.

Because the qualification was:

Do it exactly like Jasmine.

And there was already a Jasmine.

She was exhausted.

The Mirror

At the end of the day, I’ve realized that my relationship with myself spills into almost every relationship I have.

When I couldn’t tolerate my own imperfections, other people’s imperfections irritated me.

When I believed love had to be earned, I measured worth.

When I couldn’t give myself grace, I had very little grace available to hand anyone else.

But as I’ve met myself more deeply, something beautiful has happened.

I’ve become less interested in deciding how everybody else should be.

Not because I’ve stopped caring.

Because I’ve stopped needing their choices to validate mine.

I don’t need you to live like me for my life to be right.

I don’t need to understand every choice you make to respect your right to make it.

And I don’t have to shrink, perform, perfect, or explain myself to earn that same freedom.

Maybe we really do tend to meet other people only as deeply as we’ve learned to meet ourselves.

And maybe unconditional love doesn’t begin with figuring out how to love every person on Earth.

Maybe it begins much closer to home.

With allowing the person in the mirror to be human.

Because once I stopped standing over her with a clipboard—

everybody else started looking a whole lot less unqualified.

And wouldn’t you know it?

Some of these people actually know how to carry a box.

I just had to let them. 😂❤️

Closing Reflections 🌿

Sometimes the standards we hold other people to are simply the standards we’ve been quietly holding over our own heads.

Think about the judgments that tend to come up most often for you. They’re too loud. Too lazy. Too emotional. Too needy. Too confident. They should know better. They should try harder.

Then gently turn the thought around.

Where have I denied myself permission to be what I’m criticizing in them?

What happens inside me when someone does something differently than I would?

Am I discerning what works for me—or deciding what should be right for everyone?

Where might “I’ll just do it myself” actually be keeping me exhausted?

What could I stop carrying if I allowed someone else’s way to be good enough?

And finally:

What would change if I truly believed that other people are allowed to be themselves—and so am I?

You don’t have to abandon your standards to make room for someone else’s humanity.

You just have to put down the clipboard. 😂❤️