I’ve always been a helper. Maybe it’s the oldest daughter in me or maybe it’s just how I’m wired. Either way, nurturing people has never felt like something I do, it’s just been a part of who I am. I’m the friend you can call when life falls apart. I’m the coworker people vent to. I’m the person who notices when someone seems off before they say a word.
And I genuinely love that about myself.
There’s something so meaningful about being someone’s safe space. I never want to lose that part of me. But lately, I’ve been sitting with a question that keeps getting louder and louder: Who’s holding the helpers? Working in the nonprofit world, caring is pretty much part of the job description. We serve people all day, solve problems, navigate limited resources, and somehow keep moving even when things feel heavy. And BOY, DO THINGS FEEL HEAVY THESE DAYS!!!
If you looked at our team experience survey, one thing would become pretty clear: our people genuinely value each other. The number one thing that keeps our staff coming back is each other. We’re abnormally close. I love the people I work with. They’re brilliant, compassionate, funny, and deeply unserious (in the best way). When you’re surrounded by people like that, you naturally want to make sure they feel seen, supported, and valued.
Somewhere along the way, I quietly took on the responsibility of helping make that happen. No one asked me to. There was no title change or formal announcement. I just started…carrying things. Checking in on people. Reading the room. Trying to ease tension before it grew. Being the safe place for coworkers to process difficult days. Thinking about team morale. Wondering if everyone felt appreciated. Wanting to make work feel a little lighter for everyone else.
I jokingly told our Chief of Staff that it’s pretty much like I appointed myself Junior Chief of Staff. Funnily enough, people started treating me that way too. They come to me with questions, frustrations, ideas, and sometimes just because they need someone to listen. It’s a privilege just as much as it can be exhausting. Because emotional labor is still labor. It can be invisible most of the time, but it takes energy all the same.
The hardest part is that people who naturally nurture others don’t always realize when we’re running on empty. We keep pouring because that’s what we’ve always done. We convince ourselves that if everyone else is okay, we’ll eventually be okay too. But guys, it WILL catch up with you. So I’ll leave you with something I’m still coming to terms with: Caring for people and carrying people are not the same thing. It’s possible to encourage someone without feeling responsible for fixing everything.
Or to create space for people without absorbing every emotion that enters the room. I’m still figuring out what healthy boundaries look like. I don’t have it all figured out, and I probably never will. However, I’m learning that being a person people can lean on doesn’t mean I have to be the person holding EVERYTHING up.
Tianna Woodford
Executive Assistant
