When helping becomes a way of taking over.
There is a particular kind of person who is very easy to admire. They help. They solve. They listen at midnight. They know what everyone needs before anyone asks. When someone is falling apart, they arrive, sometimes with advice, sometimes with money, sometimes with an impressive amount of emotional labour nobody actually requested.
They are the Rescuer.
And being the Rescuer can feel good. You are needed. You are useful. You are the person who knows what to do. Which raises an uncomfortable question: what happens when helping someone becomes part of how you feel valuable?
THE HERO
In 1968, psychiatrist Stephen Karpman proposed what became known as the Drama Triangle, a model describing three roles that can emerge in interpersonal conflict: the Victim, the Rescuer and the Persecutor. Importantly, Karpman described these as positions people can move into and out of, rather than fixed personality types. Someone can feel powerless in one moment, become controlling in the next, and then switch into the role of the person trying to fix everything.
The model was developed within Transactional Analysis, rather than as an experimentally established theory of personality, and for decades it was more influential in therapy, coaching and popular psychology than in empirical research. More recent work has started to investigate the model more systematically. A 2022 study by Andrew Lac and Candice Donaldson developed and tested a Drama Triangle Scale across three samples of adults. Their findings supported distinctions between the three roles and found associations between the roles and non-secure attachment styles, anxiety, stress, depression and negative emotions.
That doesn't mean every difficult relationship is a Drama Triangle. But it does make the model an interesting lens for looking at what happens between people when conflict takes over.
And perhaps the most interesting corner is the one that usually gets the best lighting:
the Rescuer.
WHEN HELPING ISN'T REALLY HELPING
Helping isn't the problem. Care isn't the problem. Generosity isn't the problem. The more interesting question is whether your help increases another person's ability to act, or whether it quietly makes you responsible for the outcome.
Imagine a friend tells you, “I don't know what to do about my relationship.” You could immediately give them a plan. You could call them, write the message for them, tell them what their partner is really doing and explain what they should do next. Or you could ask, “What do you think you want to do?”
The second response may feel less heroic. It may also leave something important intact: their agency.
This distinction has a strong parallel in Self-Determination Theory, developed by psychologists Edward Deci and Richard Ryan. The theory proposes that autonomy — experiencing yourself as the author of your own actions — is one of three basic psychological needs, alongside competence and relatedness. Research on autonomy support looks at the difference between helping people make their own choices and pressuring them toward an outcome chosen by someone else.
In other words, there is a psychological difference between helping someone and helping someone in a way that still allows them to remain the author of what happens next.
That difference is easy to miss, especially when you are convinced you know what is best.
THE RESCUER'S HIDDEN TRADE
The difficult question isn't only, “Why do I help?” It is also, “What do I get from being the person who helps?”
Sometimes the answer is completely healthy. You care about this person. You have something useful to offer. You want to contribute. But sometimes there is another layer. Being needed can provide belonging. Being indispensable can provide security. Solving problems can provide a sense of competence. And if someone's crisis gives you a role, stepping away from the crisis can become surprisingly difficult.
Research on helping motivation makes a related distinction: prosocial behaviour can be driven by different kinds of motivation, including more autonomous motives and more controlled motives. Those motivations can have different consequences for both the person providing the help and the person receiving it.
So perhaps the uncomfortable question isn't, “Am I a good person for helping?”
It's:
“Could I still care about this person if they made a decision I wouldn't make?”
That is a much harder test.
THE TRIANGLE DOESN'T NEED A VILLAIN
The Victim position can contain something real. Something happened. Someone was hurt. Someone genuinely has less power in a particular situation. Acknowledging that isn't the same as encouraging helplessness.
The Persecutor position can also begin with something legitimate. A boundary may genuinely have been crossed. Someone may actually need to be held accountable. The problem begins when the position becomes the only way of relating to the situation.
The Victim stops asking, “What can I influence?” The Rescuer stops asking, “What belongs to them?” The Persecutor stops asking, “How can I address the behaviour without attacking the person?”
The relationship becomes a system in which everyone has a role and nobody has much freedom.
And this is where the Triangle becomes more interesting than simply identifying who is playing which character. The point isn't to decide who is right. It is to notice what the roles are doing to the relationship.
SO HOW DO YOU STOP RESCUING?
Not by becoming less caring.
By changing what you do with your care.
A simple place to start is to ask whether you were actually asked to help. Did this person ask for advice, or did you become uncomfortable watching them struggle? That distinction matters because sometimes we rescue not because someone needs rescuing, but because their discomfort makes us uncomfortable.
Then ask what actually belongs to you. Not, “Can I solve this?” but “Is this mine to solve?” You may be capable of solving many problems that are not your responsibility. Capability is not responsibility.
And finally, ask whether you can support without taking over. Instead of immediately providing an answer, try asking, “Do you want me to listen, help you think through it, or give you advice?”
It is a remarkably small question, but it returns something important to the other person: choice.
If they want advice, give advice. If they want you to listen, listen. If they decide to do something you wouldn't do, you may have to let them. That can be uncomfortable. But discomfort is not necessarily a sign that something has gone wrong.
Sometimes respecting another person's agency means allowing them to make a decision you would not make yourself.
THE SAME PRINCIPLE WORKS IN THE OTHER TWO ROLES
The point isn't to replace the Rescuer with a perfectly enlightened version of yourself. The same principle applies across the Triangle.
If you feel like the Victim, ask: “What is one thing I can influence here?” Not everything. Just one thing. You don't have to deny what happened in order to look for the part of the situation where you still have agency.
If you feel yourself becoming the Persecutor, ask: “What behaviour do I actually want to address, and what boundary follows from that?” That is different from asking what is wrong with the other person. One focuses on something that can be addressed. The other turns a conflict into a verdict about someone's character.
And if you feel yourself becoming the Rescuer, ask: “What would supporting this person look like if I didn't need to control the outcome?”
These questions move the focus away from roles and toward agency.
MAYBE YOU DON'T NEED A BETTER ROLE
There is something seductive about psychological models. Once you've learned the vocabulary, you start seeing it everywhere.
She's the Victim.
He's clearly the Persecutor.
I'm always the Rescuer.
And suddenly you have understood the Triangle perfectly. You've also found a new way to cast the other person as the problem.
That may be the final joke of the whole thing.
The Triangle can become another triangle.
Another way of deciding who is the hero, who is the villain, and who needs saving.
Maybe the way out is less dramatic.
You don't need to become the perfect Rescuer. You don't need to become the perfect Victim. You don't need to become the perfect Persecutor who has finally learned how to set boundaries correctly.
You may simply need to become a little more aware of the moment when you're stepping into a role.
Then pause.
Ask what belongs to you.
Ask what belongs to them.
And leave enough space for another person to remain the author of their own life.
Because sometimes the most helpful thing you can do for someone is not to save them.
It's to trust that they can participate in saving themselves.
With care,
La Séance