When helping makes it worse

I often tell my kids that life isn’t fair. Just because one kid got something, it doesn’t mean the other gets the same. I tell the kids on our baseball team too, especially when they think they got a bad call.

Life tends to hit us with plenty of moments that are unfair. We get a bad call, or the weather on an important day decides not to show up, or the best player on our favourite team gets a red card.

During the Football World Cup recently, there was a controversial moment when star US player, Folarin Balogun, received a red card. The decision was reviewed by the cameras, debated by commentators, and then finally given. At the time, the US team was visibly upset, but they composed themselves quickly and played as a controlled unit. They moved on immediately, scored again, and won the match 2-0.

It was a convincing win from a team that looked focused, united, and ready to take on the giants.

But then things got messy.

Between that game and their next match, political powers intervened. In astonishing circumstances, the President of the United States reportedly called the President of FIFA to request support in overturning the red card. The suspension was lifted, and Balogun was allowed to play.

Suddenly, the incident had become bigger than the red card. The conversation had shifted from football to power, influence, fairness, politics, rules etc. And that distraction impacted the way the team played in their next match.

Even with their star player back on the field, the US was trounced convincingly by Belgium. In fact, while Belgium looked strong, the US looked like a shell of the team that had played only days earlier.

Stay out of it.

What I find most interesting about the whole situation is how external influence can change the way people show up. It felt like being back in school, watching parents desperately trying to protect their kids, but accidentally making it worse.

It reminds me of a story I heard from little league baseball. These kids were about 11 or 12 years old and often playing against kids they knew. One team had a tendency to chirp a little. It was small stuff, just a bit of playful banter that kept the kids engaged, all in jest. This particular day, a parent asked the coach to make sure her child was not chirped at under any circumstances.

So the coach, trying to do the right thing, went over to the opposing coach and said something along the lines of, “Hey, can you make sure your players don’t chirp number 10? His mother has specifically asked me.”

And the other coach did exactly that. No one was to chirp number 10.

But, of course, now every kid knew exactly who number 10 was.

So when number 10 came up to bat, the light-hearted banter stopped immediately. Someone even shouted, “Remember, no chirping number 10,” which put an even bigger spotlight on the poor kid.

The whole team went perfectly quiet. And this kid had to stand there in the awkward silence that hadn’t existed before. Three slow pitches later, he struck out. Instead of cheering for good pitching, the other team gave him a slow, polite, painfully awkward golf clap as he slumped back to the dugout.

You can imagine the awkwardness of the whole thing. The attempt to protect him had made it worse!

This is the danger of over-intervention. Sometimes, when we try too hard to remove the discomfort, we inadvertently put a spotlight on it. And that’s what I think also happened in the US game. Suddenly the pressure on the US team was much greater to perform. In the first game, the bad call was something that brought them together. In the next game, that unity looked as if it had completely evaporated.

It’s a solid example that, when we try to control the outcome, we risk interrupting the natural flow of things. When we try to force life to be fair, we make it more complicated.

And we tend to do this in our own way from time to time. We see something unfair or uncomfortable happen and immediately our nervous system wants to get involved. We want to fix it, argue, make it right, perhaps even protect others.

That instinct usually comes from a good place of trying to help, but the intervention creates more chaos than the original problem ever would have. In fact, sometimes the most loving thing we can do is to not remove the obstacle. Instead, we can help someone build the strength to face it. Whether it’s in leadership, parenting, relationships, if we remove every hard thing, we also remove the chance for someone to discover what they are capable of.

To be clear here, there is a difference between advocacy and interference.

Advocacy matters. It is when we speak up because something needs to be addressed. It is how people push back on broken systems and create real change.

Interference is different. It’s when we insert ourselves because we are uncomfortable with uncertainty, discomfort, or someone else’s struggle. Often, that has more to do with what we need than what they need.

So, for leaders and parents and anyone trying to build growth, the best thing we can do is to ask whether this is ours to carry. If it is, we can act with clarity. If it’s not, we need to support without taking over.

In these moments when life isn’t fair, it’s the perfect opportunity to show up as the most resilient version of ourselves. It’s our responsibility to recognize the reality of the situation and then ask what the next best step is. That is where our power lies. 

Resilience is always about finding a way to move forward, even when we’ve been dealt an unfair hand. Rather than complain and interfere, let’s channel that energy into something useful.

Until next time friends, stay resilient.

Carré at Resilient Minds

PS - if you or your team need help navigating the complexity and unfairness of life, reply to this email or check out my website. I train organizations, individuals and kids to be able to handle life’s challenges and find a way forward.