Learning to Fix Things Changed Everything

Two years ago, my kitchen faucet started leaking. I called a plumber. He quoted $180 to replace a small rubber washer—a five-minute job with a fifty-cent part.

I paid it because I didn’t know how to do it myself. I felt helpless, dependent, and vaguely ashamed.

Last month, the same faucet started leaking again. This time, I watched a three-minute YouTube video, bought the washer for sixty-five cents, and fixed it in ten minutes.

I saved $179.35. But what I actually gained was worth infinitely more: the knowledge that I’m not helpless.

Learning to fix things didn’t just save me money. It changed how I see myself, what I buy, and how I move through the world.

The Helplessness We’re Taught

Somewhere along the way, we learned that we can’t fix things. That repair requires special knowledge, special tools, professional expertise. That attempting it ourselves will make it worse.

This belief serves someone—just not us.

When you believe you can’t fix your own stuff, you:

  • Buy new instead of repairing
  • Pay professionals for simple jobs
  • Feel dependent on systems and experts
  • Assume complexity where there’s often simplicity
  • Throw away things that work with minor adjustments

This helplessness is profitable. For manufacturers who design products to be un-repairable. For retailers who want you buying new. For service providers who charge premium for basic tasks.

“The assumption of incompetence keeps you consuming. Learning to fix things is an act of rebellion.”

My First Repair: A Broken Lamp

It seems silly now, but my broken lamp sat in the garage for six months because I “didn’t know how to fix it.”

Finally, desperate and annoyed at myself, I looked up “how to fix a lamp that won’t turn on.” The internet taught me:

  1. Unplug it (duh)
  2. Check the bulb (it was fine)
  3. Check the cord for damage (found it—frayed near the base)
  4. Replace the cord ($4 at hardware store)
  5. Follow basic wiring instructions (literally three wires, color-coded)

Time investment: 45 minutes including the hardware store trip. Cost: $4 Money saved vs. buying new lamp: $40 Confidence gained: Priceless

That lamp still works. And now I know: if electricity stops flowing, the problem is either the source, the path, or the destination. Simple logic. Nothing magic.

What I’ve Learned to Fix

In two years, through YouTube, library books, and asking neighbors:

Around the house:

  • Leaky faucets (turns out this is almost always a washer)
  • Running toilets (usually the flapper—$8 fix)
  • Stuck doors (hinges or alignment—free fix)
  • Holes in drywall (spackle and paint—$15)
  • Basic electrical (switches, outlets—easier than it looks)

Clothing:

  • Hems and buttons (30-second fixes)
  • Small tears (iron-on patches work great)
  • Broken zippers (sometimes fixable, often replaceable)
  • Stretched sweaters (wash in hot water, reshape)

Appliances:

  • Vacuum cleaners (usually just clogs)
  • Washing machines (often the filter)
  • Coffee makers (descaling solves most problems)
  • Toasters (crumb removal fixes 80% of issues)

Other stuff:

  • Bikes (basic maintenance is surprisingly simple)
  • Furniture (wood glue and clamps fix most things)
  • Electronics (battery replacement, cleaning connections)
  • Kitchen tools (sharpening, adjusting)

None of this required special talent. Just willingness to try, access to the internet, and accepting that I might not fix it perfectly the first time.

“The difference between people who fix things and people who don’t isn’t skill. It’s the belief that they can learn.”

What Changed Beyond Saving Money

I buy better quality now: When you know you can fix things, you care about whether they’re fixable. I stopped buying cheap stuff designed to break. I invest in quality items I can maintain.

I see objects differently: A broken thing isn’t trash—it’s a puzzle. What failed? Can I replace that part? Can I improvise a solution? The question shifted from “can I afford to replace this?” to “what would it take to fix this?”

My consumption dropped dramatically: When you can fix and maintain, you need less. My jeans last years because I mend them. My tools last decades because I care for them. My furniture is basically immortal because I know how to reglue joints.

I feel more capable generally: Learning you can fix a faucet teaches you that you can learn other things too. If I can figure out plumbing, maybe I can figure out investing. If I can repair electronics, maybe I can learn to code. Capability compounds.

I’m less anxious about things breaking: Things breaking used to feel like financial emergencies. Now they feel like opportunities to practice. The anxiety of “what will this cost?” became the curiosity of “can I fix this myself?”

The Money Saved (Because That Matters Too)

I tracked repairs for one year:

Things I fixed that would have cost money:

  • Faucet: $180 (paid $0.65)
  • Toilet: $150 (paid $8)
  • Bike tune-up: $75 (paid $0, used tools)
  • Clothing repairs: $200+ (paid maybe $15 in supplies)
  • Appliance repairs: $300+ (paid $0, learned how)
  • Furniture fixes: $500+ (paid $20 in wood glue and clamps)

Conservative estimate: Saved at least $1,400 in professional services.

Things I didn’t buy because I repaired instead:

  • New lamp: $40
  • New jeans: $60
  • New coffee maker: $80
  • New dining chair: $150
  • New vacuum: $200

Conservative estimate: Saved at least $530 in purchases.

Total saved in one year: Nearly $2,000.

But here’s the thing—the money isn’t actually the point. The point is agency.

Learning Resources That Actually Helped

YouTube channels:

  • Dad, How Do I? (basic skills taught kindly)
  • See Jane Drill (home repair for beginners)
  • ifixit (electronics repair)
  • Bike-specific channels for basic maintenance

Websites:

  • ifixit.com (repair guides for everything)
  • WikiHow (surprisingly helpful for basics)
  • Reddit’s r/fixit (community help)

Real life:

  • Hardware store employees (usually love to explain)
  • Repair cafes (learn while helping others)
  • Older relatives (they learned before YouTube existed)
  • Neighbors (someone always knows something)

The library:

  • Readers Digest “Complete Do-It-Yourself Manual” (covers everything)
  • Topic-specific books (plumbing, electrical, sewing)
  • Tool lending libraries (try before buying)

The key: Start with something small. A button. A squeaky door. A drawer that sticks. Build confidence with easy wins.

Common Fears and Reality

“I’ll make it worse”: Sometimes true! I’ve definitely broken things attempting to fix them. But most broken things were already broken. And even professional repair isn’t guaranteed.

“I don’t have tools”: Start with basics: screwdriver set, pliers, hammer, adjustable wrench. Costs $30 total. Everything else you can borrow or buy as needed.

“I don’t have time”: You have time to drive to the store, shop for a replacement, buy it, set it up, and dispose of the old one. Repairs often take less time than replacement.

“It’s not worth it for small things”: Small things are where you learn. You don’t start with rebuilding an engine. You start with a button. Then a hem. Then a faucet. Then suddenly you’re capable of bigger things.

“I’m not handy”: Neither was I. “Handy” isn’t a personality trait—it’s a skill set. And like all skills, it’s learnable.

What This Really Teaches

Learning to fix things teaches something deeper than repair:

You can figure things out. Most problems aren’t as complicated as they seem. They’re just unfamiliar.

You don’t need permission. Nobody gives you a license to repair your own stuff. You just do it.

Failure is feedback. Every broken thing you don’t fix perfectly teaches you something for the next one.

Resources exist. Someone has solved this problem before. The internet knows. Someone nearby knows. You can find out.

You’re more capable than you think. The limitation isn’t your potential—it’s your belief about your potential.

“Every time you fix something, you prove to yourself that you’re not helpless. Do this enough times, and you become a person who solves problems instead of a person who pays others to solve them.”

The Cultural Shift

Imagine if everyone learned basic repairs:

Economically:

  • Less waste in landfills
  • More money staying in communities
  • Reduced dependence on consumption
  • Greater financial resilience

Socially:

  • Skill-sharing between neighbors
  • Elders teaching youth
  • Increased self-reliance
  • Stronger communities

Psychologically:

  • Reduced anxiety about things breaking
  • Greater sense of capability
  • Less helplessness
  • More confidence

Environmentally:

  • Extended product lifespans
  • Reduced manufacturing demand
  • Less resource extraction
  • Smaller carbon footprint

This isn’t nostalgia for the past. It’s building resilience for the future.

Start This Week

Pick one broken thing in your house. Something small. Something you’ve been meaning to replace.

The process:

  1. Search: “how to fix [thing that’s broken]”
  2. Watch/read the first three results
  3. Assess: do you have the tools? Can you get the parts?
  4. Try it (remembering: it’s already broken, so worst case is it stays broken)
  5. If you succeed, celebrate. If you fail, learn what you’d do differently.

Then:

  • Tell someone what you learned
  • Offer to help a neighbor with a similar fix
  • Try something slightly harder next month

Six Months Later

I’m not a master craftsperson. I can’t rebuild a transmission or rewire a house. But I can:

  • Fix most things that break in my daily life
  • Assess whether something is worth repairing
  • Learn new repair skills when needed
  • Help neighbors with basic fixes
  • Teach my kids that broken doesn’t mean useless

More than that, I’ve internalized a fundamental shift: I am capable. Not of everything, not perfectly, but enough. Enough to not feel helpless. Enough to try instead of assuming I can’t.

That broken lamp in my garage taught me more than how to wire a lamp. It taught me that the voice saying “I can’t do this” is usually wrong.

What’s broken in your house right now? Go search how to fix it. See what you learn about the object, and about yourself.

You might surprise yourself. I did.