Over-giver

 From Derek Hart

There's a trap almost nobody talks about.

It's the trap of the over-giver.

And if you're in it, you don't see yourself as part of the problem. You see yourself as the one holding everything together while everyone else disappoints you.

From the inside, it feels noble. It feels generous. It feels moral.

From the inside, it feels like this: "I care more than other people." "I notice things others don't." "I give without keeping score." "I show up." "I don't ask for much."

And slowly, quietly, another belief starts forming underneath all of that.

"Most people are selfish."

Here's the painful part most over-givers don't want to look at.

Over-giving isn't generosity. It's a coping strategy.

Not a conscious one. Not a manipulative one. A survival one.

Most over-givers learned very early that having needs felt dangerous. Needing too much meant being a burden. Asking directly mean risking rejection. Waiting to be chosen meant waiting forever.

So they adapted.

They learned to give first. They learned to anticipate. They learned to sense what others needed before anyone asked. They learned to become useful. They learned to become indispensable.

And here's the quiet trade they made with life:

"I won't asl for what I need. I'll give you what you need. Maybe someday you'll notice."

But someday rarely comes.

Because the over-giver doesn't just struggle to ask. They don't know how to receive.

Not really.

Care hits their system and doesn't land. Compliments slide off. Offers feel awkward. Support feels foreign. Rest feels undeserved.

Their body doesn't know what to do with being held.

So love never fully soaks in. It never marinates. It never settles into the bloodstream.

Which means no matter how much they give, they still feel empty.

And instead of seeing the pattern, the mind does something very human.

It looks outward.

"These people are selfish." "No one ever shows up for me." "I give and give  and no one gives back." "People only take."

Sometimes that's true. Sometimes they really are surrounded by people who take.

But here's the part that stings.

Over-givers often attract takers.

Not because they want to. Because the system fits.

The person who doesn't know how to receive finds someone who doesn't know how to stop taking. The person who avoids asking pairs with someone who avoids offering. The person who gives endlessly pairs with someone who never learned to notice.

And both feel justified.

The over-giver feels resentful and unseen. The taker feels confused and entitled. Neither feels truly met.

Over time, the over-giver becomes bitter. They start keeping score even while telling themselves they don't. They start pulling away while still doing everything. They start giving with an edge. They start feeling morally superior and deeply lonely at the same time.

They don't feel loved. They feel used.

And here's the hardest truth in this whole pattern.

The over-giver isn't actually protecting themselves from pain. They're guaranteeing it.

Because real intimacy requires risk. It requires asking. It requires letting someone see you want something. It requires tolerating the discomfort of receiving and not earning it.

And none of that lives inside over-giving.

Over-giving keeps you safe from rejection. And it keeps you cut off from being known.

So yes, there are selfish people in the world. And yes, some people really do take too much.

But if you're an over-giver, the deeper work isn't figuring out how to stop attracting selfish people.

It's learning how to sit with the terror of saying: "I need." "I want." "I can't give anymore." "I want you to choose me without me earning it."

That's not selfish. That's intimacy.

And until that happens, the over-giver will keep giving to people who can't love them the way they need. And keep believing the world is the problem.

When the truth is quieter and harder and more hopeful than that.

Love didn't fail you.

You were never taught how to let it in.

Read these slowly.

Mirror Meditation: 25 Ways to Heal Over-giving

1. Look at yourself and say, "I don't need to give anything right now to be allowed to be here."
2. Place a hand over your chest and notice how uncomfortable it feels to receive your own attention.
3. Say, "It makes sense that receiving feels hard. This is learned, not a flaw."
4. Breathe and let the urge to perform, explain, or offer something pass without acting on it.
5. Notice how your body braces when you imagine asking for help.
6. Say, "I'm allowed to want something without earning it first."
   
7. Sit with the feeling of need without solving it.
8. Let your shoulders drop and notice how unfamiliar rest feels.
9. Say, "I don't have to be useful to be loved."
10. Notice the guilt that arises when you imagine saying no.
11. Say, "Guilt is a sensation, not a command."
12. Feel your feet on the ground and remind yourself you're safe even when you don't give.
13. Say, "I can survive disappointing someone."
14. Imagine receiving care and notice where your body tightens.
15. Stay with that tightness without pushing it away.
16. Say, "Receiving won't harm me, even if it feels foreign."
17. Let yourself feel the grief of how long you've given without being met.
18. Say, "It hurts to realize how much I needed and didn't get."
19. Place a hand on your stomach and breathe slowly into it.
20. Say, "My needs are not excessive. They're human."
21. Notice the urge to minimize what you feel and choose not to.
22. Say, "I can learn to let care land, one moment at a time."
23. Sit quietly and allow your body to experience being held by your own presence.
24. Say, "I'm allowed to take up emotional space."
25. End by saying, "I'm learning how to receive. I don't have to rush."

This practice isn't about becoming less caring. It's about becoming reachable to care.

Over-giving didn't come from too much love. It came from not having a place to put it.

You're building that place now.