It's Not My Job - And That's Okay

Truth time… I haven’t read Let Them yet, but I have read the original poem by Cassie Philips — and I quite enjoyed it.

As a coach (and someone who follows a lot of other coaches and creators), I get that almost everything gets repurposed. No shade there — we all learn from one another and add our own flavor.

That said, I usually see original creators get some credit. Not so much when it comes to Mel Robbins and Let Them. So, I’m not exactly racing to get the book.

I’ve heard it’s powerful for so many, and I fully believe the message is important — I will read it… after I finish the three other books I’m in the middle of. Not to mention the massive “to-read” pile taunting me. Like I said — not rushing. But I also trust that when I do get to it, it’ll be right on time. Please don't come at me for that, it just hurt my heart a little bit. With that being said, my reframe is that Let Them has actually created a large following of support for Cassie, and maybe everyone gets to win in the grand scheme.

(Who knew I’d trade booze and blow for books? Not me — but here we are.)

So why am I even talking about this? Honestly, I wondered that too for a second. But here’s why — this whole Let Them thing sparked a deeper realization for me:

It’s not my job.

I’m a highly sensitive person. Always have been. Some would call it being an empath, but I’ve never loved labels — they make me squirm. What I do know is I’m an energy sponge with a built-in radar for even the tiniest shifts in a room. Call it whatever you want — some might say it’s a gift, some might say I’m a little nuts — and that’s okay. It’s not my job to make people understand me.

I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt. My capacity for compassion runs deep — those are actually my clients’ words, not mine. Over the years, I’ve heard that over and over again.

As a coach helping people change their relationship with alcohol or cocaine (or sometimes just life itself), my job is to guide, encourage, teach, and support. And I love it.

But during my coaching certification, we were warned about over-responsibility — that trap of feeling like my clients’ success (or failure) is somehow on me. It’s not. I can offer tools, wisdom, and support, but I’m the coach in the corner of the ring — not the one taking the punches.

I can’t force anyone to show up. I can’t make anyone choose change. It’s not my job.

And as a highly sensitive person, that’s a tough pill to swallow (maybe not the best analogy considering my line of work, but you get the point). My heart wants the best for everyone. I can see the path they could take — I can see the action steps that could change everything. But if someone’s not ready, if they’re comfortable in their discomfort, I have to meet them there — not where I wish they were.

I'm speaking about this from my perspective and my experience, but I feel like this mentality is beneficial for more people than just me. It’s not my job.

• It’s not my job to make people understand me.

• It’s not my job to make people like me.

• It’s not my job to change myself to be more likable.

• It’s not my job to fix or save anyone.

• It’s not my job to stay in spaces I’ve outgrown.

• It’s not my job to force anything — not friendships, not growth, not love.

• It’s not my job to hold onto people just because we have history. Some people are blessings, some are lessons, some come for a season or perhaps a reason — not everything is forever. And that’s okay.

• It’s not my job to put myself in places or situations that feel wrong just to make someone else comfortable.

• It’s not my job to carry things that aren’t mine.

• It’s not my job to like someone just because everyone else does.

• It’s not my job to be like everyone else.

• It’s not my job to say the things people want to hear.

Here’s what is my job:

• To be me.

• To understand myself — not to make sure everyone else understands me.

• To know my value comes from within.

• To make mistakes and learn from them.

• To stand in alignment with what feels right for me.

• To keep growing, expanding, and stepping outside my comfort zone.

• To embrace being perfectly imperfect and keep striving to be better — better than yesterday me, not anyone else.

Lately, there’s another phrase I keep coming back to — for my clients and for myself:

And that’s okay.

We get so tangled up in stories we tell ourselves:

• Not liking someone makes me a bad person.

• Leaving a friendship makes me selfish.

• If I stop drinking, no one will like me and I’ll be boring.

None of that is true.

Thoughts are just thoughts. They aren’t facts.

Not everyone is going to like me — and I don’t have to like everyone. And that’s okay.

Being friends with someone for a long time does not negate the blessing that it was — but it’s time to let go. And that’s okay.

Not drinking or partying doesn’t make me boring. It gives me the chance to redefine fun, on my terms. And that’s okay. People may not understand my version of fun. And that's okay.

Give yourself the space to be who you actually are.Give yourself permission to lay down everything you were never meant to carry.

Focus on what’s yours to control. Let go of the rest.

• It’s not your job to compare yourself to anyone else.

• It’s not your job to be better than anyone else.

• It’s not your job to keep drinking or partying to fit in.

• It’s not your job to hold onto people you’ve outgrown.

It is your job to keep showing up for yourself. It is your job to keep trying to be the best version of you — knowing some days will be hard, and that’s okay too.Every single day is a chance to learn, to grow, to come back to yourself.

The hardest part of writing this? Every few minutes, I think of yet another “it’s not my job” to add. But for the sake of actually hitting publish instead of overthinking this for the next six months (which, yes, is my specialty), I’ll leave it here.

It’s not my job to think of every example under the sun — or we’d be here all damn day.