Confession: can a giver become a receiver?

Thoughts on reprogramming yourself.

Self Love Poetry, Urban Outfitters Exclusive Edition.

I remember the first time I heard the phrase, human giver syndrome. I was listening to the book Burnout by twin sisters Emily and Amelia Nagoski (the one and only audiobook I’ve ever listened to) and the moment the author (and narrator) said it I shuddered. “Oh boy. That’s me,” I thought to myself.

Human giver syndrome is “the belief that you have a moral obligation to give every drop of yourself in support of others even when that is to your own detriment.” What does human giver syndrome lead to? Burnout (more specifically, emotional exhaustion, decreased sense of accomplishment and depersonalization). Yes, giving feels good and giving is deeply important. But when it becomes your unequivocal mode of operation, even an empath like me gets empathy fatigue. Burnout does such a good job of exploring what causes burnout for women, and what they can do about it, that I won’t try to summarize it here. But I will use this concept as the framework for my current evolution from human giver to human receiver (also known as a human being).

I’ve been a giver as long as I can remember. Giving to my parents, my siblings, my friends, my teachers, my employees… giving was how I validated my worth. If I gave the right amount of time and compassion, empathy and care, then and only then, would I be considered a good person. My god, the amount of time I spent listening to others and even doling out advice as a teenager is astounding. What business did I have giving advice? I giggle now in retrospect at the sheer madness of it. To the world I was the “old soul” who was “wise for my years” (does that sound familiar?). But what I really was, was hiding. The more I spotlighted others and made it about their needs, the less I needed to draw attention to myself.

When you’re busy giving, it’s easy to avoid or even block receiving.

When I’m really honest with myself about why I gravitated towards being a giver so early on, a few reasons come to mind: 1. I modeled myself after my parents, who are both givers; 2. it’s my intrinsic nature to be giving — and that’s a big part of why I’m able to be a poet and author today; and 3. I had low self esteem as a child. The more I work on loving and healing myself, the more reason three goes away, and as a result, my relationship with being a giver is now changing.

Even though I deeply enjoy taking care of others — especially if I can contribute to their healing — I’m learning that giving in and of itself isn’t enough to sustain me or my relationships anymore. I’ve become more aware lately about the energy imbalance that is present in so many of my core relationships. Just recently, I had an entire conversation with a dear friend that didn’t involve a moment of reciprocity. She didn’t ask me a single question about me. And truly, I don’t fault her. This is the relationship I myself designed. But twenty years into our friendship, it’s no longer the relationship that I want. And that’s because this human giver is ready to stop hiding behind giving: I’m ready to receive.

I wrote this quote on March 5, 2020. When I pulled it up in my pictures, I realized through another screenshot that it is coincidentally the very day I started listening to the Burnout audiobook. I thought of both today as I wrote this newsletter and made this discovery. Everything is connected.

This of course isn’t an easy transition, especially when your relationships are as old as mine. I’ve been actively trying to shift old relationships and the reaction has been mixed. Some old friends feel slighted, while others are celebrating my growth. Either way, I’m making space for a new relationship paradigm in my life, and I’m already attracting the benefits. Last year, at a dinner for a mutual friend I met L. From the moment we met, she witnessed me and celebrated me and yes… gave to me. And in return, I did the most generous thing I could think to do: I received. I received her love, her attention, her invitations, her care. I even told her: as someone who is usually the giver, I don’t know what I did to deserve a friend like you, to which she said, “You deserve it, you’re amazing.” Our relationship has been grounded in reciprocity and deep joy ever since. Even though the relationship is relatively new, it is one that makes me feel safe, considered, and rooted. It is also the one I want to give to the most.

Shifting from being a giver to a receiver doesn’t mean that I’ve stopped giving, or that now I identify as a taker (or a matcher, the three options outlined by Adam Grant in his book, Give and Take). I fundamentally believe that giving remains one of my essential superpowers, and is directly tied to my gift for empathy. That’s why I use the phrase receive, instead of take. I still give, yes. But now, I open the door to receiving, too. Early on in my marriage, I didn’t know how to receive. I was so busy trying to control everything that I didn’t leave any room for my partner to contribute because his way didn’t look exactly like my way. I wrote about this in my 2016 piece, How Self Love Saved My Marriage, for the Huffpost.

The worst part about this new me, this perfectionist self-sacrificer, is that it made me an awful wife. I didn’t trust my husband to do anything right, despite needing him so fiercely. I stopped bringing myself, the vibrant passionate woman he married, to the table. I was a million shards of glass held together by a thin skin. One wrong move and I would cut you, and at the same time cut myself.

My commitment to self love is how I’ve learned to recover from being a human giver, a self-sacrificer, a perfectionist, an untrusting control monger. Self love is how I’ve loosened my grip on the reigns of my life, and let others lead, contribute and collaborate with me. In this way, I’ve become more generous — not by taking more, but by receiving more. The people in my life who give to me feel good when I receive them.

Self love is also shifting the lens through which I perceive other people’s choices. For the longest time, seeing other people put themselves first (when I would have jumped to sacrifice myself) was the ultimate trigger: how could they do that?? I would wonder to myself as I silently judged them. Even though being a giver may seem noble, it isn’t when you’re filled with resentment and even rage. But that’s what happens when the energy balance is off: we’re all designed not just to take, but to give, and not just to give, but to receive. Our collective sanity depends on this primal flow.

I know I said I wouldn’t try to summarize Burnout but there is one part of the book that I must share: it’s called closing the stress cycle. Unlike our ancestors, The things that activate our stress cycle (politics, climate change, traffic, being a caretaker) are not things that we can escape from (think in contrast about a lion attack for example — you survive the close call with the lion and the stress cycle closes). Instead, we need to find other ways to close the loop on our stress — even if we can’t entirely eliminate the stressor. Because when you don’t close the stress cycle, your nervous system gets dysregulated and you experience burnout.

According to the authors, there are several sure fire ways to close the stress cycle — even if you can’t solve the underlying stressor: short bursts of physical activity (running, dancing, a one minute plank, deep diaphragmatic breathing), a nap, and even a 20-second hug. I’ve found that for me, asking for help, receiving other people’s attention, care and even gifts, and sharing my feelings instead of burying them have all proven to close my stress cycle. I’m grateful to say that as a result of slowing down my life and being more open to receiving, my nervous system has never felt better.

Welcome to my receiving era. Won’t you join me?

Resources:

Here’s the link to the book, Burnout, which I so deeply recommend.

A Burnout worksheet that includes a decision grid and a guide/schedule to help you block out time to combat burnout.

Not sure if you’re experiencing burnout? Try the fried quiz.