A gift you can’t afford to give isn’t a gift at all. It’s a loan.” – A wise man.
A wise man, being me.
I am not a recovering giver. In fact, I’m not a giver at all.
I give. To charity, sometimes. To my friends as frequently as possible. To strangers when I think to. It’s not instinctual. I don’t walk through life with buckets of time, love, or energy looking for souls to pour into. Keeping the Jenga puzzle that is my well-being from toppling over requires most of what I’ve got. But I’m a human on Earth in relationship with people. I give what I can, when I can.
What I can. When I can.
Because a gift you can’t afford to give is a loan.
You weren’t thinking about what you stood to lose when you opened your coffers and lovingly poured into your loved ones. Not the first time, the second time, nor the third. You gave. It’s who you are. Then one day, you were empty. You never kept a ledger. But that’s okay. Someone’s bound to make you whole again, right?
Nope. They have a budget. And never accounted for paying you back in full. They can spare a bit, but nothing close to what you need.
That ledger you never bothered to think about? It’s all you’ve got. The record of withdrawals and no deposits running on a loop in your head. You glower at the full, happy bellies of everyone you fed as you fend for scraps to survive on.
You’re a giver. A good person.
Those people who accepted your gifts without reciprocating are selfish. Bad people.
But they’re full. You’re starving.
Shorty can’t eat no good intentions.