I grew up, as many children of my generation did, watching classic Disney movies: Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Snow White, etc. I never thought that they affected me much. After all, I have always known that happily ever after was a convenient lie to end a story on, being a princess sounded much too restricting and girly to appeal to me, and finding my prince charming has never been a priority.

I have come to realize, though, that I was affected by these movies. I just simply didn’t take on an obvious role. I didn’t look to the princess, who was simply an arrogant pawn directed by the hands of fate. Nor to the parents, who were completely ineffective. Nor the villain, as I just didn’t have that much anger inside of me. Apparently, my role model was the Fairy Godmother. The matronly figure, full of love and concern, who flies in with her magic wand and dries up all the tears. Fixing the problems that others create and ensuring those I love live happily ever after.

The Fairy Godmother Role

There are, of course, many, many reasons beyond Disney why I turned out this way. My caregiving role in a traumatic home, my people-pleasing nature, my existence on the Autistic spectrum, to name a few. Whatever the reasons, the results are the same: I have Fairy Godmother Syndrome. When someone I love is hurting, my impulse is to fix the problem. I rally the troops, create solutions, and make things happen. And woe unto you if you are anywhere near me when this is happening, because you will be dragged into the tornado of well-intentioned helpfulness that I have become.

The Fairy Godmother isn’t a bad role actually. To start with, you have control. Unlike the hapless princess, you are creating and shaping the reality around you. Flipping off the fates and creating plot twists. It’s also a lot less exhausting than being a villain. That much wardrobe, makeup, and brand take a lot of upkeep. And the anger, pain, and grudges clenched so tightly inside take a heavy toll on your psyche, body, and life. The prince role isn’t half bad. He is a rescuer after all. The problem with being a rescuer, though: it’s a lifetime commitment. After the excitement and interest and potential to do things has passed, you’re still supposed to be there staring awkwardly at this person you barely know. Living constantly with the rescuer/damsel-in-distress dynamic that you created in your relationship. The Fairy Godmother is where it’s at.

There’s just one problem, though. If you grew up in a dysfunctional home like me, you learned to rigidly adhere to the roles you were assigned. When given the script of how to act, you never deviate or improv, or change a line. You don’t just play the role, you become the role. And the Fairy Godmother role, like all roles, has some definite limitations. When we adhere rigidly to the role as it is written, we often fly too high above the situation to see many of the deeper needs. We can overlook a lot of things.

We Can Overlook the Importance of Teaching

Let’s start with the most obvious. When you swoop in and solve someone else’s problems, they never have a chance to learn to problem-solve. If you are a Fairy Godmother, like me, did you ever stop to think that part of the reason the Princess is so hapless and is always in distress is partially our fault? When she came knocking on our door, crying beautifully in her ragged clothing, did we bother to teach her any coping skills? Did we help her learn distress tolerance? Did we encourage her to solve her own problems?

Speaking for myself, I am not inclined to do any of this. When I hear a baby cry, my first thought isn’t to soothe it. My compulsion is to make it STOP, and make it stop now! Part of the problem is that I, myself, don’t really have much in the way of distress tolerance. If something is wrong or hurting, the immediate solution is to correct it. So, when others come to me with their problems, my knee-jerk reaction is to solve them. Their distress is my distress, and distress is not tolerable.

Turns out this helpful solution isn’t very helpful after all. We end up teaching those we love a faulty lesson, that distress is not tolerable. That every issue has to be immediately responded to. That long-term realities are irrelevant when compared to short-term discomforts. When looked at through this lens of reality, the role of Fairy Godmother can quite easily be relabeled as Enabler.

We Can Overlook the Importance of Validation & Healing

Another limitation of the Fairy Godmother role is that emotional needs are not met. This may seem a little contradictory. I mean, as Fairy Godmothers, aren’t we doing these things to make the person feel better? To make them happier? To dry their tears? Well, yes, and that’s exactly the point. We are doing these things to stop the emotional reaction.

Don’t get me wrong, there is some validation in acknowledging a situation is fucked up enough that things need to change. But it’s a sideways, besides the point, sort of validation. Fairy Godmothers don’t sit with the princess and cry. They don’t directly acknowledge the horrors of neglect and trauma that were perpetrated on these young children. They don’t allow the space and silence necessary to create a healing, loving, safe connection.

We focus on the practical reality. And this is good. Because validation and support are no replacement for stopping the abuse and removing the person from a harmful environment. But, too often, we focus only on the practical reality. After it is solved, we withdraw again to our ethereal kingdom, waiting for the next need. And that next need will happen because we did not take the time to create or support the healing necessary to prevent it.

We Can Overlook the Other Person’s Reality

Another limitation of the Fairy Godmother role I am going to address is a less obvious one. At least I should say it’s less obvious to us, but likely quite obvious to those we are trying to help. The solutions we are offering are our solutions. We are attempting to rewrite the princess’s story in a way that makes sense to us. To provide a happily ever after that we assume she wants, or believe she should want.

Some of us do, upon meeting the crying princess, initially, ask “What’s wrong?” or “How can I help?” But even if we do ask, we don’t dig any farther. We hear the answers and read them through our own beliefs, perceptions, and desires. Cinderella tells her Fairy Godmother she is in distress because she wants to go to the ball, and the Fairy Godmother takes this answer at face value and gets her to the ball.

Do you really think that’s why Cinderella was crying? This child had lost her father. She was underfed, under-clothed, and under-loved. She was tormented, neglected, and abused by her adoptive family. Is it possible some other issues were going on? That maybe there were deeper problems that need to be addressed? The Fairy Godmother, though, was experiencing her own distress intolerance, felt out of her league as she wasn’t trained in how to deal with trauma, and quite likely believed that the solution to the whole situation was a good man. So, she got Cinderella to the ball.

Whether we ask for input or not, the end result is the same: we don’t truly listen. We think we know what is right. We think we have all the answers. We think we know best. So, we create solutions to fit our world. We solve problems in a way that builds a life we want the person to live.

We Can Tie Our Worth to Our Role

And this is where yet one more limitation of the Fairy Godmother Role comes in. Our egos, self-esteem, and psychological needs are too often tied to our success as a Fairy Godmother. We intertwine our worth with our ability to fix others’ problems, to create their happily-ever-afters. But, too often, we will fail. We aren’t teaching our young princess how to cope with life, we aren’t providing the necessary relational space to create healing, and we are offering solutions that don’t make sense for her or her life.

If the person we are trying to help is in crisis or they really love us, they will try to make our solutions work. More often than not, the solution will fail. Either because the solution truly didn’t make sense in the context of the person’s life. Or because the person had to become someone they didn’t want to be or live a dream that was not theirs, to make us happy. That kind of total sacrifice of self is painful and psychologically damaging. This means that even though the person may be living the happily ever after we designed, they are in no way happy.

Other times, the person we are trying to help, will push back. They know the solution will not work, they are trying to heal, or they need to learn the lesson on their own. So, they refuse our help. And this leaves us feeling wounded, hurt, and angry. If we are stuck too much in our role of Fairy Godmother, we know no other way to show love. This means we see their rejection of our helpfulness as a rejection of our love and ultimately a rejection of us. If we obsess too much over this pain, we can then become the villain we were trying so desperately to save the person from.

Fairy Godmother as Role Model, Not a Role

But here’s the great thing about being an adult, about no longer being stuck in a dysfunctional home: we are no longer limited by the role. We have the power, the authority, and the ability to change the script. We can see the Fairy Godmother as a role model, with attributes we want to emulate. And not as a role we must rigidly play.

Yes, I still have Fairy Godmother Syndrome. But I am learning how to write my own script. I am learning to build distress tolerance, validate emotions, and create healing relationships. I am opening my heart, ears, and mind to another’s world and perceptions. And I am learning to use my wand responsibly, instead of as a bashing rod to force change.

If you feel you have Fairy Godmother Syndrome, I encourage you to learn to rewrite your role as well. The world needs us! We are loving, caring, and loyal beyond measure. We get shit done. We have the kind of skills necessary to change the world, and more importantly to change someone’s life. When we combine our innate powers with a little bit of self-growth, we can be a big part of helping to foster and create true, lasting happiness for those we love.

Do you also have Fairy Godmother Syndrome? What lessons have you learned that can help us other Fairy Godmothers out?

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