A couple months ago, I was at a family member’s house and noticed they had cases of the same water I drink.
I asked where they got it.
They told me Dollar Tree, but that it wasn’t always easy to find. Sometimes they had to check multiple stores and go on a specific day because that’s when it usually came in. Then we moved on.
A couple weeks later, I get a text.
“We’re on our way to your house to drop off water.”
Now listen.
The amount of relief and gratitude I felt over a few cases of water was completely disproportionate to the actual water.
But it wasn’t about the water.
The water just happened to be the thing that got removed from the list.
No planning.
No checking multiple stores.
No figuring out which day they might have it in stock.
No working it into an already overloaded route.
No loading it.
No unloading it.
No wondering when I’d get around to it.
Just done.
And I have thought about that water multiple times since then. Every time I walk past it, I feel a bit of relief.
Not because I have water. But because something got handled.
Completely.
Without me having to manage it.
A few weeks later, something similar happened.
I was talking to sissy about all the random house things that needed attention. Nothing major. Just the normal accumulation of home ownership.
A repair.
A handyman task.
Something else.
Then another thing.
The kind of stuff that doesn’t take much time individually but somehow creates an entire project because every task comes with phone calls, scheduling, follow-up, waiting, and remembering.
The next thing I knew, her husband was calling me.
“Get your list together.”
That was it. No long discussion. No explanation.
No “let me know if you need anything.”
Just get your list together.
He came over and knocked out multiple things.
Again, the relief wasn’t because a few repairs got done. It was because I didn’t have to manage the process.
I didn’t have to find someone.
I didn’t have to call someone.
I didn’t have to coordinate schedules.
I didn’t have to chase anyone.
I didn’t have to sit around wondering if they were actually going to show up.
I especially didn’t have to work myself up over having a stranger in the house.
For a few hours, someone else owned the project.
I just had to be available.
Removing Management
The older I get, the more I realize that support doesn’t always look like what people think it does.
People tend to think support is something big.
A crisis.
An emergency.
A major life event.
Then they ask, “What can I do?”
The problem is that by the time someone is asking me what they can do, I now have another task.
I have to think.
I have to prioritize.
I have to decide.
I have to explain.
I have to delegate.
And all of that requires the exact mental energy I’m already running low on.
Most of my exhaustion isn’t coming from any one thing.
It’s coming from tracking.
Tracking people.
Tracking appointments.
Tracking repairs.
Tracking businesses.
Tracking promises.
Tracking follow-ups.
Tracking whether the thing I already asked for is actually going to happen.
If I ask someone to do something and then have to remind them three times, it never really left my list.
I’m still carrying it.
It just got assigned a different due date.
If somebody sends me a screenshot instead of a link, now I have another step.
If a business says they’ll call me back and doesn’t, now I have another follow-up.
If a service provider says they’ll reach out and never does, now I have another open loop sitting in my brain.
None of these things are huge. That’s almost the point.
It’s the accumulation. Hundreds of tiny unfinished things.
Tiny points of friction.
Tiny responsibilities.
Tiny reminders.
Tiny follow-ups.
Individually they’re nothing.
Collectively they’re exhausting.
Maybe that’s why the water felt so significant.
Not because someone gave me water.
Because for once, something was removed from my mental load without me having to coordinate the removal.
Lately I’ve been wondering if that’s actually one of the most meaningful forms of support.
Not adding help. Removing management.
There’s a difference.