You are not their saviour

It's tempting to step in when someone's in pain, flailing, or stuck. You see the shortcut, the more straightforward way forward, and the mistake before it happens. Your instinct is to help. Maybe even fix it. But there's a difference between being helpful and hijacking the experience that's supposed to shape them.

Support doesn't mean rescue. Holding space is not the same as holding the wheel.

Agency denied

When you solve it for them, it's not just your energy that's drained—it's their agency that's denied. You mean well. But what they often need more than your advice is your belief. Your trust that they are capable. That they can figure it out—even if it means falling first.

Because falling is not failing, it's data. It's friction that builds strength. Without it, learning remains theoretical. And theoretical growth doesn't hold up when things get real again.

Every time you catch them too early, you interrupt the feedback loop they're meant to experience. Discomfort isn't punishment. It's a signal—a teacher. The pain of stumbling teaches them how to walk taller next time. It's how they begin to rely on themselves—and not on you.

Be a mirror

Of course, you care. That's why you're there. To listen. To reflect. To be a mirror, not a crutch. The most generous thing you can offer is not your solution, but your presence. A quiet confidence that says: you've got this, and I'm here if you need to talk it through.

There's no shortcut to resilience. It's built, not gifted. Let them fall. So they can rise.