How can they just take, take, take?

Tell me if you recognize yourself in this: you're with your partner, and there's tension.  Someone is upset, plans are interrupted, a big need has to be shoved into a moment that was not meant to hold more stress.  Maybe a kid has to stay home from school and you're both holding tight to your work hours, or one of you wants to be apart while the other wants to be together.  Broadening out, maybe it's your manager asking you to take on some extra duties, just for a bit.  Either way, it's clear not everyone is going to get what they want, a sacrifice is on the horizon.  There has to be a give and a take.

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The moment comes to decide how it all gets distributed and find yourself giving in. "Fine," you say begrudgingly, "you can have what you want" (and I won't get what I want, you think to yourself).  To which your partner replies, "great, thanks," relieved, and walks away feeling settled. 

 

But not you.  You're left with a sinking, terrible feeling in your stomach.  I didn't want it to go this way. I thought we were going to negotiate.  Instead, you gave more than you meant to, and they took all of it.  They seem satisfied while your whole body fills with anger and resentment at someone for taking exactly what you offered.

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"How can they just take, take, take?" you wonder.

 

My old theory

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I can definitely recognize myself in this moment.  Countless times, an embarrassing amount of times, feeling taken for granted.  Enough, in fact, that I crafted a rudimentary, self-protective theory to explain what's going on.  Ready for it???? 🙋‍♀️  I'm a giver, and anyone who makes me feel taken for granted is a taker.  Simple as that.

 

I defined givers as selfless, accommodating, generous, other-focused, and collaborative.  Under my breath and in the fine print, I also defined givers as humble, heroic, and anything synonymous with goodness.  The underdog, perhaps, like, "OK, you take from me now, but one day my giving heart will stand on its pedestal."  Givers are aware of those around them and default to altruism.

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Takers, on the other hand, I thought were selfish, inflexible, self-focused, individualistic, and operating from a scarcity mindset.  Also, parenthetically, villainous and bad.  Takers might be aware of those around them, but in a pinch, they are more concerned with getting what they want, and something in them isn't willing to compromise.

 

Why this theory used to feel so good

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As you've probably gleaned, I am a giver, according to my biased theory.  I didn't mind if others acted in their own best interests; what I didn't understand was why they didn't seem to act within my best interest as well, especially when the two are not mutually exclusive.  I truly just didn't get it.  "How can you be so selfish?"  I'd think when my husband didn't come home when he said he would.  "Don't you care about me?"  I'd think when a friend forgot my birthday.  "How come they don't recognize all the hard work I'm doing?"  I'd wonder to myself when, after putting in a ton of effort to make someone feel special, they'd give me a neutral thanks in reply.

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When I felt unappreciated within an important relationship, I'd lose my footing and struggle to understand what was going on.  It's hard to admit it now, but the most convenient explanation I could come up with was that I am a wounded giver, and my husband, my friend, whoever was on offense, was a taker.  I didn't have to wonder about my own agency; I didn't have to make any changes at all because I had already defined myself as the saintly giver.  And they are the selfish taker who needed to change.  That wrapped it all up in a tight little bow, and I could move on with my day, ego intact.

 

What it's like to be a giver

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Being a perpetual giver felt amazing, garnished with hefty dollops of self-doubt, confusion, and loose ends that I pretended didn't exist.  It actually also felt like resentment, unexpressed anger, and exploitation.

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I thought I was always being helpful.  I thought I was truly useful and needed, and providing to my relationships a revolutionary experience for the other person.  Giving felt like being who I am.  It did then, and it still does now, even though I no longer give in the way I used to (more on that to come).  Being a giver felt safe.  It felt like no one could blame me for being selfish, so I would never have to wonder "am I selfish?" It felt like a thing I can just DO, without questioning it because it's always the right thing.

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Being a giver feels good until it isn't the best fit for the relationship, and then it starts to feel really bad.  And in my old theory, this only occurs when a giver is in a relationship with a taker.  With this combo, the giver defaults to giving, and the taker defaults to taking until they are full.  The giver feels drained and empty, which is how I used to feel ALL. THE. TIME.

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What do givers often do when this cycle begins?  Double down.  Give more, be more good, be more selfless and heroic because that's the safe way out.  And it's the taker who needs to change anyway, right?!?

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I hear women talk about giving on a pretty frequent basis, saying things like "I volunteered to bring snacks for the whole class again, even though I have no idea when I can get to the store," "my manager told me they need me to take on this extra thing, just for a while, so I guess I have to," "I have to leave work early to pick up the kids so he can go to his happy hour — even though it's his turn…"

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These might be real offers, but they are also a giver meeting someone else's need at their own expense.  In these moments, the giver is stuck in a bind of trying to make decisions quickly, be appeasing, make things easier for everyone, and lower the tension.  But they are also hoping, somewhere underneath, that the other person will recognize their hesitation.  "No, you left work early last time, I'll do it this time."  "Thanks for taking on extra work tasks, we'll pay you extra for the effort."  That's what she's actually hoping for when she extends her hand, someone to notice her ambivalence and give right back.

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Instead, she hears: "Cool, thanks, really appreciate it."  The other person is relieved and mildly grateful, and the giver is sunk low in her chair.

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Givers often feel stuck, or at least that's how I felt, in an internal battle between many factors: avoiding conflict, making life easier for everyone else, expressing their generosity, and not knowing enough about what they want to plant a flag and take a position.  For some givers, being assertive and asking for what they want can bring up real fear and instability.  Creating boundaries and expressing needs is not something that has gained women a lot of praise and acceptance, which can result in feeling pretty uncomfortable with the idea of taking. It's an underdeveloped muscle.  At the peak of my overgiving, I felt like, if I was "too big," "too much," if I pushed to have my needs met, I was opening myself up for rejection.  It sounds crazy to say, but deep in my being, I felt rejectable, so I didn't want to take up much space.

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There are other byways into overgiving.  Praise for giving can feel rewarding when it's recognized, so why not keep giving?  Giving can be a powerful way to get your needs met.  Sometimes givers practice giving so much that they lose the muscle memory for anything else.

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For a long, long time, I didn't think too deeply about being a giver.  I thought more about how terrible the takers are for being so selfish.  I'd feel angry about overgiving but helpless to do much about it, so I just blamed the takers more and built resentment.  To release pressure, I'd complain to my friends, many of whom were also givers, and we'd commiserate in the self-focus of our partners, bosses, family members, whoever.  All of this felt good but it wasn't really healing.  I was in a bit of an echo chamber.  Then there was my husband telling me to take more, and I didn't understand that either.  I literally did not know how to do it.  I'd get mad at him for even suggesting our tension would ease if only I'd take more for myself.  Outside of an hour to exercise and a few dates with friends here and there, I wasn't even sure what was worth taking for.

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There was also the constant curiosity about why I always end up so mad at everyone else for taking from me.  And wondering "am I doing something wrong?"

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When things started to change

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There is an important transition in the headspace of a giver when they start questioning "how do I stop," or "why does this keep happening to me," or "am I doing something wrong."  When prior she was thinking about everyone else, "what's wrong with them," "why did they do this," "how can they treat me this way," now she is beginning to think about herself.  I'm going to be honest that she's unlikely to experience this as an empowering shift.  It could feel awful.  Mostly because she may not stop and sit with the question, rather she'll probably try to answer the question for herself as quickly as possible.  And this answer is likely to sound self-deprecating.  It can feel like an invitation for her inner critic to unleash and berate her with ALL the things she's ever done wrong and ALL the ways she sucks.  Inner critics can be really mean and how to address them in reply deserves a whole other Note.

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Despite this, I argue the giver still has made considerable progress because she has turned her focus toward herself, which is an accomplishment on many levels.

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For me, this came to a head when I decided to give in a big way by preparing my husband and toddler for success while I went out of town for a couple of days.  I cleaned the house, did the laundry, went grocery shopping for fresh foods, and made a few easy-to-reheat meals to put in the fridge for him.  I felt so satisfied. I was so helpful, and he would be so thankful.

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I came home 2 days later to a messy house, and they hadn't eaten ANY of the food I worked so hard to prepare.  "Why didn't you eat the stuff I made and bought???"  I questioned, furiously.  My husband's reply: "I don't know. I was kinda excited to just eat chicken nuggets and get some takeout." 😤

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WTF, I wondered, I worked my butt off packing his parachute, and he wasn't even appreciative.  And you know what he said to me, "I didn't ask you to do that." 😑

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He was right.  He hadn't ever indicated that he wanted my help getting ready for solo parenting.  I wasn't meeting a need.  I was overgiving and now angry that my wasted effort was staring me dead in the eyes.

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Years later, this is a comical memory to recall, but at the time, it was not easy to reconcile with the truth: I had wasted my time giving.  It was so plainly one-sided, and my husband was so unapologetic about his desire to eat chicken nuggets and takeout, that I felt forced to wrestle with "why did I do that?"

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"Why DID I do that?"  I finally asked myself.  I was purely curious, so confused by my behavior I couldn't even find a place for self-judgment to seep in.  Maybe for the first time, I was thinking about myself, curious about my behavior, and the healing could begin.

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Givers are often confused by the taker's ability to be selfish.  And for good reason, as it's possible that being selfish, or self-interested, or self-protective, has not yet equated to internal and external harmony.  It can feel like looking at an Olympic athlete and wondering "how do you do that?"  I may have a touchpoint to what you're doing, but I can't imagine myself doing it.

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I was deeply bothered by selfishness, especially my husband's selfishness.  I think (I hope) this is pretty normal; I see him all the time, we share a lot of responsibilities, and his decisions affect me profoundly because of the life we have built together.  I just wasn't sure what to do about my frustration other than ask him to change.

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One day when I was reading one of my favorite books, "How to be an Adult," I got really lucky.  There's a little chapter near the back of the book that explains unowned parts.  I don't know that I fully understand the concept of unowned parts, but what I did understand was an explanation that if someone else's selfishness bothers you, it could be because you have not owned your own self-nurturance.  Say WHHHAAATTT! 🤯

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I felt like a lightning bolt hit me, and I would be forever changed.  I needed to own my ability to nurture myself.  I needed to gain an ability to nurture myself.  I also needed to learn what self-nurturance even means for me!  And then I needed to educate my husband about what I want and need (but that part comes later).

 

Some practical steps to un-overgiving

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Self-interview

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Once a giver starts to focus on herself and see it as she vs. she, the work has already begun.  How can she grow in self-nurturance?  For myself and many of the women I work with, the process of reacquainting with self-nurturance starts small, slow, and almost undetectable to anyone around her.  The way she wonders about everyone else's preferences and ideals can turn to include her, "what time do I want to go to bed," "how am I affected by a noisy house," "when do I want to have sex."

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It's like having an interview with yourself, thereby acknowledging that you are important and can have an answer that is distinct from anyone else's answer.  Existential questions like "what do I want to be when I grow up" all the way down to contextual questions like "what would I like to eat today."  No right or wrong answers, maybe no answers at all, just some self-investigation.  It's okay to want what you want and feel how you feel.  I've seen this exercise freak some givers out because they feel like they're being demanding or acting entitled in their wants.  But here's the deal, you're not acting on anything yet, and you never have to.  You're not creating an expectation of want-fulfillment, just noticing yourself as someone with preferences.

 

Little actions

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Next, the giver can start to take some little actions to reacquaint with nurturance.  Again, these may be largely imperceptible to others, which might feel like a safe starting point because they can practice without anyone offering their opinions.  I started with taking 1 extra minute at the end of my shower to stand there and do nothing.  I love being warm, alone, and in quiet.  I learned that from my self-questioning and believing my own answers.  I've seen givers get pretty clever about little acts of self-nurturance: packing themselves a snack before going out that day, purposely not preparing perfectly for a meeting so they could answer some texts from their personal life, being a tiny bit late to see a friend so they can fill their water bottle.  Whatever you can do to remind yourself that you're a priority and worth tending to.  Starting small is on purpose because it creates a sense of safety and positivity around self-nurturance.  It also introduces the giver and those around her to tradeoffs.  If it were easy to self-nurture, she would have figured it out already, but it's not easy because tradeoffs and boundaries kind of suck. 😩

 

Rewind

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A moment may come when she realizes she has already given too much.  Sometimes these tense moments in our relationships happen fast, catch us off guard, and the overgiving tendency creeps back unexpectedly.  I've definitely agreed to things that I wish I could take back.  My stomach starts to flip as I realize, "Oh shoot, I wish I'd said no," or I look at the details more closely and realize I really can't fit it in.  Sometimes, I'm actually stuck and want to follow through.  In these cases, my values are at odds with each other, having both the desire to be accountable and the desire to be protective of my energy and resources.  But sometimes, I'm actually not stuck and I can lean into taking back my gift.  Yes, I have backed out of plans that feel overwhelming, I have sent emails un-volunteering myself, and I have called my husband while he's out and told him plainly that I'm on the verge of tears, cranky with the kids, and I want him to come home from his extracurricular.  It's an option I encourage givers to consider if they realize the commitment they've made contributes to significant internal stress or stress on the relationship.

 

The real shift

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Something profound is happening as the giver practices self-nurturance; not just what she prefers, but what those preferences actually do for her.  When she brings a snack along on a busy day, she feels better.  Answering her texts versus perfecting for the meeting helps her feel like a better friend.  Prioritizing a full water bottle is just downright satisfying.  She's moved beyond collecting preferences to learning what she actually needs to function like herself.

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As exciting as this is, it's also where the contradiction shows up.  Now she knows enough about herself to know that giving past a certain point costs her something real, something she's come to depend on and enjoy.  It's no longer hypothetical; it's specific.  She is acutely aware of what depletion feels like and the way it will impact her and those around her.  So the next time there's a moment that requires a give and take, she's not just weighing "what do they need" anymore, she's also taking into account very real information about what it will actually cost her to give.

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The goal was never to get to a place with no more conflict, no more tension, no more moments where something has to give.  In relationships, that place doesn't exist.  The goal is that when that tense moment comes, she knows what's best for her and that it's worth naming it out loud to be considered, heavily.  She knows she's worth nurturing.  She can't easily un-know it, that awareness is here to stay.  She has fundamentally changed the relationship she has with herself.

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Once she can hold her worthiness firmly with both hands, her relationships may start to shift, even with the takers.

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She might find herself saying, "I actually don't love playing Barbies. I'd rather play hide-and-seek or color with you instead." Or "I know there's an important email coming while I'm gone, but I won't be taking my laptop on vacation." Or "I don't know how I feel about being solo with the kids tonight. I want you to be able to go do your thing, and I am also feeling really burnt out already."

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She's weaving herself back into the equation.  She's still a giver, but she's not a martyr.

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My new theory

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My thinking has expanded: givers are selfless, accommodating, generous, other-focused, and collaborative, but they can also be self-focused and self-nurturing.  Givers can also rein in their giving in order to be self-protective.  More often than not, in equitable relationships, there is room for a giver to take.  Givers can learn to nurture themselves so well that giving stops being the only way they feel okay.

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Takers, meanwhile, have their own work to do.  I don't know what that looks like, honestly.  It's not a process I have insight into, and it's not really my job to fix.  I used to think if I just explained clearly enough, or was hurt loud enough, the taker in my life would finally get it and change.  Sometimes this happens, but sometimes it doesn't.  It's just not the only thing I'm counting on.

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My old theory needed a villain, but the new one doesn't need anyone to be wrong.  Once a giver discovers the amount of space she wants to take up and believes the world will not fall apart in defense of it, she can't easily go back to giving unconsciously.

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How many times has an overgiver heard something to the tune of "put your own oxygen mask on first," "you need to learn self-care," "have more grace for yourself," all of which can fall on deaf ears and become another thing she feels she's failing at.  Sometimes these words of wisdom feel too far away.  Givers often interpret their anger and resentment as a clue that takers need to stop taking so much.  Maybe that's true, but if she feels like she's hitting a wall in the process of trying to get other people to change, she might get to a point when she is so ready for change, she's willing to do it for herself.  And nurture herself.

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My husband, for what it's worth, is a better giver than he used to be.  Maybe that's because I changed, because he changed, or just time and decades together.  Probably some of each.  I honestly think that when I started taking more, and taking care of myself, he was relieved because I stopped asking him to interpret my needs, wants, and to be responsible for my well-being.  I educated him on what I want and need, and usually he says, "great, let's make that happen." 🙌

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Givers work really hard to become ok with taking.  At least it was hard for me, but I'm (mostly) on the other side :)