The fix
I was getting coffee not too long ago
I was getting coffee not too long ago first thing in the morning when I caught myself doing it again.
Standing there, staring at my phone, mentally cataloging everything I needed to fix about myself before the day even started.
The way I handled that conversation yesterday. The email I should’ve sent differently. The thing I said that came out wrong. The decision I’m second-guessing. The pattern I can’t seem to break.
All before 9 AM.
And then this thought hit me: when did I become a problem that needs solving?
We spend an extraordinary amount of energy trying to fix things that aren’t actually broken.
We treat ourselves, and each other, like machinery with faulty parts. Like if we could just identify the defect, swap it out, run the diagnostics one more time, everything would finally work the way it’s supposed to.
But what’s it supposed to look like, exactly?
We’ve been sold this idea that there’s a “right way” to be, a correct configuration of human. And if we’re struggling, if we’re uncertain, if we’re screwing it up more than we’d like to admit, then clearly something in us needs repair.
So we read the books. We hire the consultants. We optimize and iterate and debug our own existence, convinced that somewhere in all that effort, we’ll finally become the version of ourselves that doesn’t need fixing anymore.
And don’t get me wrong, it’s the therapy and work that get us through hard times.
But when we can’t fix ourselves fast enough, we turn that same energy outward. We try to fix others, our teams, our kids. Nothing is wrong with me; it must be them if they would *see* what we see. If they would just *change* this one thing. If they would just *be* the version of themselves we see, then everything would work.
But here’s the reframe: what if nothing needs fixing?
What if the problem isn’t that we’re broken?
What if we keep treating being human like it’s a problem? I see this a lot with high-performing leaders. People who’ve built impressive things. People who are objectively successful by any external measure.
And almost all of them, at some point, sit across from me and confess some version of the same thing: “I feel like I’m supposed to be further along.”
Supposed to.
That phrase alone could write a whole different article.
But underneath it is this assumption that figuring it out means *arriving* somewhere. That there’s a destination called “fixed” and once we get there, we can finally relax. Finally be enough. Finally stop feeling like we’re making it up as we go.
Except.
We are making it up as we go.
All of us.
Everyone you think has it figured out? They’re improvising too. They’re just doing it with more confidence. More reps under their belt. Or better lighting. Or a more convincing narrative about their journey.
But underneath? Same uncertainty. Same questions. Same beautiful mess of being alive and always in transition, trying to figure out how to do it well.
The thing about accepting that we’re all figuring it out is that it doesn’t mean giving up.
It doesn’t mean “I’m flawed.”
It means something more like: “I’m flawed, you’re flawed, we’re all flawed, and somehow in the middle of all that imperfection, we’re still here, still trying, still creating, still connecting, still becoming.”
It means the work isn’t to fix yourself into some imaginary perfect form.
The work is to operate *from* your humanity instead of against it.
To lead *with* your uncertainty instead of hiding it.
To build *through* your messiness instead of waiting until it clears.
There is one thing I’ve noticed most: the people who feel most at ease in their minds aren’t the ones who finally fix themselves. They’re the ones who stop treating themselves like something that needs fixing in the first place.
They reframe the entire thing.
Think about someone in your life you’ve been trying to fix.
Maybe it’s subtle. Maybe you don’t even call it that. But there’s this thing about them; the way they communicate, the way they make decisions, the way they show up, that you’ve been quietly (or not so quietly) trying to correct.
If they would just *see* it the way you see it.
If they would just *change* this one pattern.
If they would just *become* who you see them to be.
Now flip it.
Who’s been trying to fix you?
What part of yourself have you been treating like a defect instead of just… a part of being human?
Your anxiety. Your people-pleasing. Your need for control. Your sensitivity. Your ambition. Your whatever-the-fuck thing you’ve decided makes you less than whole.
What if that’s not the broken part?
What if that’s just *your* part in all this?
I’m not saying we shouldn’t grow. I’m not saying we shouldn’t work on ourselves. I’m not saying patterns and behaviors don’t matter.
I’m saying maybe we’ve been asking the wrong question.
Not “How do I fix this?”
But “How do I work with this?”
Not “What’s wrong with me?”
But “What’s *here* in me?”
Not “How do I become someone else?”
But “How do I become more *myself*?”
That reframe changes everything. Because when you stop treating yourself like a problem to solve, you start treating yourself like a human to know. To understand. To work with. To operate differently from the inside out.
And when you stop trying to fix other people, you start seeing them as humans, figuring it out too. Beautifully flawed. Imperfectly showing up. Doing their best with the code they’re running.
We’re all just figuring it out.
Oh, and one last random sidebar.
Maybe that acceptance, of our imperfection, of our uncertainty, of our constant becoming, is what some have been calling enlightenment all along.
Not “How do I fix this?”
But “How do I work with this right now?”
Stay human
-Bryan
I’m Bryan. I help leaders reprogram their human code, the mental models and patterns running in the background. This is BEing Human. Former tech guy. Built agencies. Wrote bestselling books (Shareology, Human to Human), gave a TEDTalk. I was a career guy, continually chasing recognition. I got off the treadmill. Now I work with Fortune executives, leaders, and founders who’ve proven themselves but know something needs to shift.
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Bryan,
This landed with me in a real way.
I was talking with a friend yesterday about one of his employees. The guy’s headed back to Tennessee after two years on an ankle bracelet and probation. My friend’s worried he’ll slide right back into old behaviors.
What struck me is how quickly we move into fix mode — especially with men.
“Here’s what he needs to do.”
“Here’s how we can keep him from blowing it.”
Underneath that is the same thing you’re naming: we start treating people like broken machinery that needs the right part swapped out.
I told my friend straight: we can’t fix people. We can support them, we can walk with them, we can set boundaries — but we don’t get to rewire their insides. I personally believe only God and a willing heart can truly correct a person from the inside out. The rest of us are just fellow travelers, not mechanics of someone else’s soul.
And we do the same thing to ourselves first.
I catch myself there all the time. Mentally circling the same list:
The conversation I should’ve handled better,
the decision I can’t stop second-guessing,
the pattern I swear I “should” be past by now.
Somewhere along the line, I started seeing myself as a problem to be solved instead of a person to be known.
Like you said, a lot of us — especially men — are chasing some invisible standard:
A perfect job, a perfect car, an ideal wife, a perfect story.
We shine the outside of the vehicle and never lift the hood on the actual heart that’s driving it.
Perfection is a hallucination at best. And honestly, some things don’t need upgrading. There are times I’ve tried to “improve” something — a system, a plan, even a relationship dynamic — and later wished I’d just left it alone and brought a quieter heart into it instead.
In our men’s ministry, we’ve got a little phrase for this:
We call it “shoulding” on people.
If you say it out loud a couple of times, it takes on another tone we’re all familiar with. 😏
Point is — we load people up with “you should… you should… you should…” and pretty soon they’re buried under our expectations instead of grounded in their own calling. Same thing we do to ourselves. We should be on ourselves all day long and then wonder why we feel ashamed and never enough.
That’s why I loved the way you shifted the questions:
Not “How do I fix this?”
But “How do I work with this?”
Not “What’s wrong with me?”
But “What’s here in me?”
I’d add one more that I’ve been sitting with:
What is my heart focused on?
Because if my heart is obsessed with looking “fixed,” I’ll keep working against my humanity and the humanity of everyone around me. I’ll continue to treat myself, my team, and my family like projects on a workbench.
But if my heart is set on becoming more honest, more grounded, more whole — and if I trust that God does the deeper work in me and in others — then my flaws, my anxiety, my need for control, even my screw-ups become places I can work with instead of parts I have to rip out.
Your line about people who are most at ease not being the ones who finally fixed themselves, but the ones who stopped treating themselves like something broken — that hit home. I see that. The freest people I know are those who have dropped the illusion of “supposed to be further along” and just started living as they are, doing the best they can with the code they’re running, while letting God deal with what only He can touch.
Anyway, just wanted you to know your words met me right where I’ve been living lately — in my own head, with my own lists, watching people I care about wobble on the edge of old patterns and wanting to save them.
Maybe the real work is this:
not to fix ourselves or anyone else into some perfect configuration,
but to stand there, fully human, heart awake, and say,
“I’m here. I’m learning to work with what’s in me. I’ll walk beside you while you do the same — and I’ll trust God with the part neither of us can fix.”
Appreciate you putting language to this, brother.
It helped me reframe some things I’ve been carrying for a long time.
G~
Truly insightful. Changing negative into positive. Accepting on flaws in ourselves as others as evolution. Well-said.