Finding balance between giving and receiving.
Are you running on empty? Maybe you are always the one who helps, the one who shows up, the one who says yes, the one people can always count on. But when was the last time you stopped and asked yourself, “What am I running on?”
I know this question because I have lived it. For a long time, I thought being able to give more was a strength. I was proud of how much I could carry, how much I could do, and how often I could be there for other people. But eventually, I learned that you can give so much that you lose touch with yourself.
I have always loved to give. It feels like it is in my bones. Part of my character, part of my upbringing, and perhaps even part of an unspoken survival skill I learned along the way.
When I was younger, giving came naturally to me. I was the helper, the one who showed up, the one who quietly said yes, even when I was tired, even when it hurt, even when no one said thank you. I did not think much of it. I thought, “This is just who I am. The people pleaser, the overgiver, the one who never wanted to be a burden.”
But it was not only about helping people. For a long time, I also tried to become the person I thought I was supposed to be. I thought that if I worked hard enough, behaved the right way, made the right choices, and followed the path other people approved of, I would eventually feel like I belonged.
Like a garden flower, I tried to shape myself. Manicured, measured, bending towards what was expected of me. But something inside me never truly thrived.
Looking back, I think I was slowly learning to measure my worth by how useful I could be. There is something deeply satisfying about being needed. When people need you, you can feel strong, useful, and important. But underneath that feeling, there can also be fear.
The fear that maybe you are not enough unless you are doing something for someone else. The fear that if you stop giving, people might stop valuing you.
I know that feeling.
In friendships, I gave time and presence. In my family, I gave stability and care. In work, I often gave more energy than I was actually being paid for. And sometimes, I gave so much that I did not realise what I was trying to get in return. Not necessarily from the other person, but from the giving itself. Worth, security, acceptance. If I gave first, maybe I would not have to ask for anything. If I stayed useful, maybe I would not be abandoned. If everyone needed me, maybe I would always have a place. And for a while, that seemed to work. Until it did not.
It was not until we started our family home that I truly hit a wall. I was constantly giving to the home, to the children who stayed with us, to the community, and to the work. Eventually, I ran empty.
I did not see it coming. I thought my energy was endless. I was used to pushing through, taking on more, going the extra mile, and keeping going when other people stopped. For a while, I was even proud of that.
But eventually, something changed. The joy I used to find in giving became harder to feel. I was giving from a place that had less and less to give, and I began to feel unseen.
Not necessarily because people were ungrateful, but because I had taught them that I would always give. I had taught them that I did not need much. And the truth was, I had become so used to being the one who gave that I barely knew how to say that I needed something, too. One day, I realised I had poured so much of myself out that there was almost nothing left. I was tired in a way that a nap could not fix. A kind of soul-deep tiredness. And I began to grieve for the parts of myself I had given away without ever taking the time to refill. That was the moment I had to face something I had avoided for a long time. I had become very good at giving, but I had forgotten how to receive.That was when I began to understand something. Giving and receiving are not opposites. They belong together.
We often romanticise giving. It sounds noble, selfless, pure. But giving is not automatically healthy just because it looks generous.There is a difference between giving from love and giving for love. Giving from love says, “I have something to share.” Giving for love says, “Maybe if I give enough, I will finally feel worthy.”
And I had been living in the second place for far too long. I had been trying to fill something inside me by constantly pouring something out. And that does not work, because being capable of carrying something does not mean you were meant to carry it forever.
I still love to give. That part of me has not changed. But now I try to notice what is happening inside me before I say yes. Am I giving because I genuinely have something to give, or because I am afraid of disappointing someone? Am I helping because I want to, or because I am afraid of not being needed?
Those questions have changed the way I give. They have also taught me how uncomfortable receiving can feel. I still catch myself apologising for needing help. I still sometimes feel like I should be able to handle things myself. But I am learning that receiving does not make me weak. It makes room for relationship.
And this is where my faith became such an important part of the lesson.
For a long time, I lived as if everything depended on me. If I did not do it, who would? If I did not carry it, who would? But God has been teaching me something different. I am not the source. I am not the saviour. I am His creation. I do not have to earn love through usefulness. I do not have to prove my worth through what I can carry. And I do not have to be everything for everyone. God can be God, and I can simply be me.
That realisation has brought me a kind of freedom I did not know I needed. Because receiving means trusting that there is enough beyond what I can personally provide. It means letting someone care for me. It means allowing myself to rest. It means trusting God with what I cannot carry.
Looking back, I think this was a lesson I needed to learn before stepping into the next season of my life. I cannot build a life around caring for others while forgetting that I am also someone who needs care.
And maybe that is the part of this story that matters most to me. I do not want to stop being generous. I do not want to become someone who never says yes. I simply do not want my giving to cost me my connection with myself. I want my yes to come from love, not fear. I want my generosity to come from overflow. And I want to remember that receiving is part of the rhythm, too.
So now I am learning a different kind of giving. Not less loving, not less generous, just more whole.
I am learning that saying no can be honest, that resting can be an act of trust, that accepting help does not take away from what I have to offer, and that sometimes the most faithful thing I can do is stop trying to carry everything myself. Because I was never meant to be the source. Neither were you. So, if you have been feeling tired or stretched thin, perhaps pause before you reach the point of running completely empty.
Ask yourself, am I giving from love, or am I giving because I am afraid of what might happen if I stop?
And then ask yourself, what would it look like for me to receive?
Maybe it is rest. Maybe it is accepting help. Maybe it is letting someone else show up for you. Maybe it is simply allowing God to care for you instead of always trying to be the one who cares for everyone else.
You do not have to prove that you can handle everything. You do not have to earn your place through what you do for other people. You are allowed to be cared for, too, because you are not only someone who gives. You are someone who is worthy of receiving. And perhaps that is what I am learning most in this season. The goal is not to stop giving. The goal is to stop disappearing inside it.
So, are you running on empty? Maybe it is time to receive.
In the next Sit With Your Thoughts, I want to talk about becoming a wildflower.
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