When Giving Drains the Giver: A Love Letter to Those Who Forgot Themselves

I have spent a lifetime giving.

Giving my time.  
Giving my energy.  
Giving my mind.  
And most dangerously — giving my heart.

To people.  
To causes.  
To dreams that weren’t even mine.  
To those who took, not always with malice, but certainly without pause.

The truth is, I never really learned to draw the line. 
Because it never felt like there should be one.  
When you’re a giver — when it’s who you are, not just what you do — drawing a line feels like betrayal.  
Betrayal to love. To loyalty. To the version of yourself that finds worth in being needed.

But here I am now —  
In a room full of echoes,  
With a heart that’s tired,  
A soul that’s weary,  
And a spirit that’s silently whispering: “Who’s going to give back to you?”

The hard part isn’t the giving.  
The hard part is realising you don’t know how to stop.  
And worse — the takers don’t know how either. 
Not because they’re cruel. But because you trained them. You taught them you’d always be there. Always say yes. Always show up. Even when it costs you you

And now…  
Even the things that once lit me up — mentoring a founder, helping a dream rise, holding space for another’s pain — feel distant.  
Not because I don’t care.  
But because I’m running on empty.

You see, depletion doesn’t announce itself.  
It creeps in.  
In forgotten birthdays.  
In quiet tears that slip between meetings. 
In long stares into nothing.  
In a fading desire to rise with purpose.

It took me 50+ years to admit this to myself —  
I forgot to protect the giver in me.
I built walls around everyone I loved but left my own heart exposed.  
I rescued others from the storm while letting mine soak through.

This isn’t a blog of regret.  
It’s a confession.  
And a turning point.

I still want to give. It’s who I am.  
But not without boundaries.  
Not without pausing to check if the well within is full.  
Not without loving myself with the same ferocity I’ve loved others.

So, to my fellow givers —  
Let this be your reminder:  
Giving without limit may feel noble, but it is not sustainable.  
You are not a bottomless pit of grace.  
You are allowed to say no.  
You are allowed to take back your time.  
You are allowed to rest without guilt.

And most importantly,  
You are allowed to inspire yourself again.
To fill your cup not just so you can serve others — but because you deserve fullness too.

Let’s learn to draw the line.  
Not to shut people out.  
But to keep the light within us from going out.