The Giver
November 2, 2024
The average human heart beats at 60-100 bpm. At least it’s supposed to. Sometimes mine feels like it's moving at a strong 200 bpm. The weight of unspoken words, unreciprocated gestures, and unthanked kindnesses send my heart into a body-shaking beat. Doubts, fears, and frustrations crowd my mind, stirring an anxiety that pulses through me. And in these moments, it feels like the giving is too much to bear. Long nights of wondering if my love is enough, if anyone will ever notice how much I give. The silence that follows the giving can be deafening.
I’ve discovered a unique kind of loneliness that comes with giving. Even as I pour myself into others—showing up, planning, caring—it often feels like I’m invisible. It’s as if all the energy, the love, and the thoughtfulness fade into the background, unnoticed. I’m there, but I’m not. I’m present, yet somehow unseen. And the more I give without acknowledgment, the more invisible I feel. It’s a strange paradox—to be so involved in the lives of others, yet to feel like a shadow, always lingering in the periphery. There’s a hollowness that comes from this invisibility, a quiet ache that grows with every unreciprocated act of love.
Growing up, my family dynamic forced me to become self-sufficient from an early age. I portrayed a strong image to the world while I struggled behind closed doors. I became the one others leaned on while keeping my struggles buried. From this, I grew stronger and more ambitious. I developed a deep connection with nurturing and hospitality. Taking care of others became second nature, so much so that I often forgot that I, too, needed to be taken care of. Constantly putting others first, I faded into the background, becoming invisible—even to myself. In these moments I often wonder, does anyone see the love I relentlessly give?
It’s a question that lingers in the stillness of the night, gnawing at my mind.
It’s easy to feel forgotten when you’re always giving and rarely on the receiving end. I’ve become so accustomed to this imbalance that when someone does something kind for me, I’m shocked. It feels foreign — so rare that I wonder if I even deserve it.
I start to question if I’m doing too much. The questions are relentless. Is this what it means to be a giver? To feel invisible in a crowd of people you’ve cared for? It’s a strange paradox — to be so involved in the lives of others, yet to feel like a shadow, always lingering in the periphery.
But here’s the thing: Being a giver is about more than just offering a hand or going the extra mile; it’s a reflection of selflessness, kindness, honor, and compassion. To give is to act from a place of deep empathy, to pour love into the world without expecting anything in return. It’s fulfilling in ways that material rewards never could be — knowing that, through your actions, you’ve lightened someone’s load or brightened their day. There’s a quiet, unspoken honor in being a giver. The act itself is beautiful because it’s rooted in the simple yet profound desire to bring goodness to others. To me, giving is not a duty but a gift, one that enriches both the receiver and the giver in equal measure. Being a giver is so much more than a simple favor.
Just because my efforts aren’t always appreciated doesn’t reflect on my character. I’ve come to understand the unparalleled value of my gift. The act of giving shouldn’t drain the soul; it should fill it with purpose.
If there’s one principle I’ve always held onto, it’s this: treat others as you’d like to be treated. That’s why I continue to love and give, even when it feels thankless. And just as the act of giving fills me, so too does the understanding that love, like energy, follows its own path. Love is like the law of conservation of mass and energy—it can’t be created or destroyed, only transformed. All the love I give, even when it feels lost in the void, will come back to me in some form. Maybe not from the people I expect or in the ways I hope, but love is never lost.
To all those who let me know my actions and grand love are not unnoticed, you remind me why I continue to give. Your acts of love, whether small or grand, remind me that I’m not alone. I cherish your souls — the ones who take the time to show love, even if it’s not always loud or obvious. Your presence in my life is a reminder that the energy I give isn’t wasted; it’s just being received by the right people, in the right moments.
Love has a way of coming full circle. I’ve learned to be patient, to trust that the love I give, no matter how quietly or slowly, will return in ways I may not yet understand. It will transform into something new, something unexpectedly beautiful. For this reason, I continue to love, to pour myself into the world, and most importantly, be patient. I know the seeds of kindness I plant will grow, even if I can’t see them yet.
Dear giver, take my complex journey as a reminder: the love you give is never wasted. It carries your essence, your strength, your beauty. It may take time, but it will return to you in ways that reflect the purity of your heart. Keep giving, not for the promise of return, but for the fulfillment that comes from staying true to who you are. Trust that the universe will echo back every act of love you’ve shared. And when it does, it will remind you of this simple truth: your love is uniquely beautiful, simply because it’s yours.