There is a difference between generosity and overgiving, and for a long time, I didn’t know where one ended and the other began. I believed I was simply someone who showed up, who cared deeply, who gave freely. But when I started paying closer attention to my patterns, I realized something uncomfortable: I wasn’t always giving because I wanted to. I was giving because I wanted to be chosen.
That realization shifts everything. Because overgiving isn’t kindness in its purest form. It’s a learned behavior, often rooted in moments where we felt unseen, unchosen, or not quite enough. So we compensate. We give more time, more energy, more presence, more solutions in hopes that somewhere in all of that, someone will finally say, “You matter. I choose you.”
The problem is, the more we give from that place, the more we teach people to expect it. And the more it’s expected, the less it’s valued. What starts as generosity quietly turns into exhaustion, imbalance, and eventually, resentment.
How it played out for me
I remember a moment that, at the time, I thought it felt like balanced pride.
In 2025, I flew over 10,000 miles from Indonesia to Puerto Rico because my sister was critically ill. We thought we were going to lose her. I didn’t think twice. I packed, got on a plane, and showed up.
When I arrived, my mother looked at me and said, “Now I know everything is going to be fine because you’re here.”
In that moment, I felt everything you would expect. Relief. Love. Purpose. I felt like I had done the right thing, like I had stepped into exactly who I was meant to be.
And to be clear, I don’t regret going. Not for a second.
However, when I look back now, I ask myself a different question. What would have happened if I hadn’t gone? Not from a place of guilt, but from a place of awareness.
Because that moment revealed something deeper. It showed me that somewhere along the way, I had become the person everyone depended on to fix things, to stabilize things, to hold everything together. And I had accepted that role so fully that it never even occurred to me to pause and ask whether I had a choice.
That pattern didn’t just show up in my family. It showed up everywhere.
In relationships where I gave more after being hurt, thinking I just needed to try harder. In professional spaces where I stayed longer than I should have, even after being disrespected, because I believed my presence still mattered. In everyday moments where I dropped everything to be there for someone else, without ever asking what it was costing me.
And slowly, without realizing it, I was teaching people that I would always be there. That I would always give. That I would always carry more than my share.
Until one day, it didn’t feel good anymore.
It felt heavy.
It felt unbalanced.
It felt like I was disappearing in my own life.
Three things happened once I opened my eyes
The first thing I understood was that overgiving is not the same as being a pushover. A pushover is someone who is easily manipulated. That was never me. I have a voice. I have opinions. I know how to stand my ground. But overgiving is more subtle. It’s giving beyond your capacity, beyond your boundaries, beyond what feels aligned because you’re still trying to earn something that should never have required earning in the first place.
The second thing was that overgiving always creates an internal imbalance. On the outside, everything may look fine. You’re dependable, you’re helpful, you’re present. But on the inside, something starts to shift. You begin to feel tired in a way that rest doesn’t fix. You feel resentment creeping in, even toward people you care about. And most importantly, you feel disconnected from yourself, because you’ve been prioritizing everyone else for so long that you no longer know what you need.
The third thing was that the moment you stop overgiving, everything changes. And not always in the way you expect. People notice. Some feel confused. Some feel disappointed. Some may even feel upset. Because you’ve changed the dynamic they were used to. But something else happens too. You start to feel different. There’s a sense of space, of clarity, of returning to yourself. And interestingly enough, when you stop overextending, people often start meeting you halfway. Not all of them, but the right ones will.
Allow me to challenge you
If this resonates with you, take a moment to look at your own patterns. Not from a place of judgment, but from a place of curiosity. Where are you giving more than you truly want to? Where are you saying yes when your body is asking for a no? And more importantly, what are you hoping to receive in return?
Start there. Name it. That alone begins to shift the pattern.
And then, give yourself permission to do something different. The next time you feel the urge to jump in, to fix, to overextend, pause. Take a breath. Ask yourself if you’re giving from a place of fullness or from a place of needing to be chosen. And if it’s the latter, choose yourself instead.
It will feel uncomfortable at first. That’s normal. You’re breaking a pattern that has likely been in place for years.
But I promise you this:
You are allowed to exist without overextending.
You are allowed to be valued without proving your worth.
And the people who are meant to be in your life will not need you to exhaust yourself in order to stay.
Stay light, my dear.
