𝐄𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞.

When someone we love is in pain, it’s natural to feel it ourselves. A child comes home upset because a friend was unkind, and our first thought is, “𝑰’𝒍𝒍 𝒈𝒐 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅, 𝒐𝒓 𝑰’𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓.” When an adult we care for is struggling, we want to step in, take charge, and fix it. That instinct comes from love.

But sometimes, without realising it, love crosses into enmeshment. Their problems start to feel like our own. We think about them all the time, lose sleep over them, and even neglect our own family and work while trying to solve what isn’t ours to solve. Instead of being supportive, we end up carrying their life for them. The constant hum of anxiety in our lives is not ours, but borrowed. We think we are building a bridge of support. But we are often building a shared cage.

The trouble is, this doesn’t really help. It can even send the wrong message: “𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔. 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒊𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖.” Over time, that makes the other person feel incapable or resentful. In our effort to protect them, we take away their chance to grow stronger.

This doesn’t mean we stop caring. It means we care differently. We stay close, we listen, we offer advice or encouragement, but we don’t take over. With children, for example, instead of fighting their battles for them, we can teach them how to stand up for themselves. With adults, we can be present, supportive, and available — without moving into their problems as if they are our own.

Healthy love respects boundaries. It says, “𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒍𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆.” That trust itself is a form of support. It gives people the dignity to struggle, learn, and grow — while knowing they are not alone.

The greatest act of love is to stand firm. To stand firm on your own solid shore. Offer your light, but trust their navigation. Care deeply, but do not get lost in them. For only in our separateness can we connect and thus help them grow, and yet retain our lives without dissolving into theirs.