Everyone knows who to call when life falls apart; few people remember to ask how the person they called is holding up.
By Lilllian Okenwa
Someone is always calling them.
When the rent cannot be paid, someone knows who to call. When a child gets into trouble, someone has to step in. When a family loses a parent, an older sibling may suddenly find themselves responsible for everyone else. At work, there is the colleague who can be trusted with the difficult assignment. In the neighbourhood, there is the person who knows who to contact when something goes wrong. In church, there is the person people approach when they need counsel or prayer.
They are the people others depend on.
Over time, however, dependability can become an expectation. The family knows who will step in. Friends know who will answer the phone. Colleagues know who will take responsibility when a difficult task comes up. The person may be praised for being strong, reliable or capable, but those descriptions can carry a weight of their own when they begin to suggest that this person should always have something left to give.
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Who checks on the person everyone calls?
That question is easy to overlook. We see the person solving the problem, paying the bill, making the decision, offering advice or holding the family together. We see what they do for everyone else. Their own difficulties may remain outside the picture.
This is not always the result of neglect. Sometimes people simply become accustomed to someone’s strength. A mother who has spent years keeping a household together may become the obvious person to call whenever a crisis arises. A father who has always provided may feel like the natural solution to every financial problem. An older sibling who assumed responsibility after the death of their parents may continue carrying the family long after the immediate crisis has passed.
The role becomes familiar. The person behind it can disappear.
Think about the mother who receives the call whenever something goes wrong with the children. A school problem, a quarrel between siblings, an unexpected bill, a difficult decision — somehow, Mum is expected to know what to do.
The same can happen with fathers. When there is a financial problem, a broken appliance, a family dispute or an emergency at the hospital, Dad is often expected to find a solution.
Parents can spend years being the people who answer questions while rarely being asked about their own.
They have worries too. They worry about money, their children’s choices, ageing, work, marriage and the future. They may carry fears they do not share with their children, partly to protect them and partly because they have become accustomed to managing things themselves.
A mother who has spent years answering, “What should we do?” may find it difficult to say, “I don’t know.”
A father who has always been expected to provide may hesitate to admit that he is worried about how to keep providing.
Neither is a failure of strength. They are simply signs that the person everyone relies upon has needs as well.
For some people, the role arrives before adulthood has properly settled in.
A parent dies, and the family has to adjust to a loss that has changed everything. Younger brothers and sisters are grieving. Bills still have to be paid. School continues. Decisions have to be made. Someone has to speak to relatives, make arrangements and reassure the younger ones that things will work out.
The eldest child may be grieving too.
Yet there may be little room for that grief.
They have become the person others are watching.
So they keep moving. They organise what needs to be organised, return to work, worry about school fees, make difficult decisions and try to give their younger siblings a sense of security. They may do it remarkably well, and years later, people may still remember how strong they were at a terrible time.
What they may not remember is that the person holding everyone together was also grieving.
When responsibility arrives in the middle of loss, grief can be pushed aside simply to make room for what needs to be done. Sometimes the effects remain long after the immediate crisis has passed.
The older sibling who became the family’s backbone may continue to carry that identity for years. Even when the younger ones have grown up, married and established their own lives, the expectation can remain: You are the one we look to.
The pattern is not confined to families.
Every workplace has people who become dependable in ways that go beyond their job descriptions. They take on difficult assignments, stay late when something goes wrong, help colleagues find their feet and become the person management calls when a problem needs urgent attention.
Communities have them too. They organise meetings, settle disputes, help people find assistance and somehow know who to contact when an emergency occurs. Friends may have their own version of the same person: the one who listens, gives sensible advice and can be trusted when things become complicated.
Spiritual leaders can also find themselves in this position. People bring them marital problems, grief, financial worries, family conflicts and questions about faith. The fact that someone offers guidance does not mean that they have no questions of their own. A spiritual leader can become tired, uncertain or in need of counsel without becoming less capable of serving others.
The same is true of doctors, lawyers, teachers, business owners and many others whose work involves carrying responsibility for people.
Competence can make suffering difficult to see.
A person can meet deadlines, attend meetings, answer messages and keep showing up while struggling with something they have told no one.
The problem becomes more complicated when being dependable starts to feel like an identity.
People praise you for being the one who always comes through. They tell others they can count on you. They call you when they need help and thank you for always being there.
Those things can feel good. Being useful to the people we love can be deeply satisfying.
But there can be a point where the praise creates an expectation that becomes difficult to escape.
What happens when saying “I can’t” feels like letting everyone down?
What happens when asking for help feels unfamiliar?
What happens when rest brings guilt because there is always someone else who needs something?
A person who has spent years giving advice may not know how to ask for it. Someone who is accustomed to supporting others may struggle to admit that they need support. The person who has always found solutions may feel embarrassed by a problem they cannot solve alone.
Sometimes, it is not pride that keeps people from asking for help. They simply have no practice at being the one who needs it.
And there is another possibility worth considering. When someone is valued mainly for what they provide, they may begin to wonder whether they would still be valued if they stopped providing it.
That is a difficult place to live.
Most of us can think of someone like this.
The woman who remembers everybody else’s birthdays but rarely talks about her own worries. The man everyone calls when money is tight. The older one who became responsible for siblings after their parents died. The colleague who never seems to miss a deadline. The friend who listens to everyone else’s relationship problems. The person who is always available when someone needs a favour.
We know what these people can do for us.
How well do we know what they carry?
Not every dependable person is struggling. Not every strong person is lonely, and it would be unfair to assume that everyone who takes responsibility is secretly falling apart. Many people have supportive families, close friendships and healthy ways of dealing with pressure.
Still, competence should not be mistaken for immunity.
A simple call can sometimes matter more than we realise. Ask Mum how she is doing when there is no family problem to solve. Call Dad without needing money or advice. Check on the older sibling who has spent years looking after everyone else. Ask the friend who always answers your calls whether they have had a difficult week. If a spiritual leader, colleague or community volunteer comes to mind, ask about the person rather than the role they perform.
And when someone says they are fine, there are times when it is worth staying in the conversation a little longer.
Not to force them to talk, but to let them know that they do not have to protect everyone else from their own humanity.
We are often quick to identify the person we can depend on. We know who will lend the money, make the decision, sit at the hospital, organise the funeral, settle the disagreement, offer the prayer or tell everyone else that things will be all right.
What we may not notice is how often that same person is carrying something of their own.
The answer is not to stop being strong. Families need responsible people. Communities need dependable people. Children need parents who can provide stability. Organisations need people who can be trusted. Faith communities need leaders who can serve.
The answer is to remember that responsibility does not cancel vulnerability.
The person who gives good advice may need advice. The one who offers comfort may need comfort. The one who pays the bills may have financial fears. The person who reassures everyone else may sometimes need reassurance.
We do not have to wait for the strong one to collapse before we notice them.
Sometimes we can simply ask.
Not because we need something.
Not because there is a problem to solve.
Just to know how they are doing.
After all, the person everyone calls when life falls apart is still a person. They also need somewhere to take their own burdens, someone who will listen without expecting an answer, and relationships in which they can put down the role for a while and simply be themselves.
A lawyer and equity advocate, Lillian can be reached at [email protected]. X: @OkenwaLillian.
