I was washing dishes while almost everyone else was enjoying the party, yet I was filled with a sense of fulfillment and joy. Naturally, you assume here that I was the host, or co-host, or maybe a worker? No. No, I was a guest. A guest at a party that had absolutely nothing to do with me in any way. I was struggling to pay my own rent but instead of focusing on that, I would offer to pay for my friends’ meals knowing that it meant I would have nothing to eat in a few days.
This is the tell-tale marker of an over-giver. If any of this sounds familiar, you may be an over-giver too.
Why We Keep Giving When We’re Empty
There’s a reason you keep giving—even when you’re exhausted. Even when your body says no. Even when your heart is quietly breaking.
It’s not because you’re weak. It’s not because you’re bad at boundaries. It’s because your brain thinks overgiving is how you survive.
Somewhere along the way, many of us learned a dangerous rule: “To be important to someone, I must prove myself.” So we became the helpers. The fixers. The ones who always know what to say, what to do, how to hold space for everyone but ourselves.
But beneath that performance is a quiet plea: “Will you finally love me, now that I’ve done everything right?”
And here’s what’s even harder to accept: your brain rewards this cycle. Every time someone says, “You’re so helpful,”your brain gives you a hit of dopamine. A little high. A little proof. So you do it again. And again. And again. Until you burn out. Until you crash.
Yes, this was likely built in childhood. You reinforced it in adulthood. It became your instinct.
Your Reticular Activating System (RAS) Was Trained to Seek Pain
The Reticular Activating System (RAS) is the filter of your brain. It lets in information that aligns with your beliefs and sense of safety.
If love, approval, or worth were only given when you overfunctioned, then your RAS starts to filter for opportunities to do just that.
You stop noticing softness. You don’t register people who give back. You ignore situations where you might be safe to rest—because those aren’t familiar.
Your nervous system doesn’t crave peace. It craves what it recognizes. And if what it recognizes is imbalance, self-erasure, or being needed instead of loved—that’s what it will call “home.”
So you keep giving. More. And more. And more.
Until one day… you mess up. Maybe you falter. Maybe you finally say no. Maybe you need something.
And that’s when they stop asking. They stop seeing you. They stop offering what little they used to.
Because yes, you were nothing but a giver to them. An overgiver, at that. And you didn’t just condition yourself—you conditioned them.
Their RAS got trained, too. It learned: you’ll carry the weight. You won’t ask for help. You’ll always come through.
So when you stop? It doesn’t compute. They see it as your failure, not your healing.
And that’s the moment of heartbreak. But also the moment of truth.
Retraining Your RAS for True Love and Safety
You were never safe in that dynamic. It was never love that held it together—it was your labor. And you get to choose something different now.
Your brain can unlearn the lie that love must be earned through depletion. Your nervous system can rewire for softness, slowness, safety. Your RAS can be retrained to notice people who see you even when you’re not performing.
But how?
Here are some ways to begin retraining your RAS:
- Practice active self-love with depth. Not bubble baths and lattes (unless those feel sacred). But true rituals of care. Speak to yourself gently. Build self-trust through consistency. Show your nervous system you are safe in your own hands.
- Journal daily for 90 days. Focus on what felt nourishing. Ask yourself: “Where did I receive love today without earning it?” Train your mind to scan for safety, not survival.
- Set micro-boundaries. Even a 1% shift teaches your RAS that you are capable of change. Try, “Can I get back to you tomorrow?” instead of instantly saying yes.
- Visualize new possibilities. Picture relationships where you are met, held, supported. The brain doesn’t distinguish between real and vividly imagined scenarios. Use this to your advantage.
- Breathe and ground. Your body is a map. When you pause and feel your feet on the floor, you remind your RAS that you are not in danger. You are simply choosing a new path.
You were never meant to disappear in order to be loved. And you don’t have to prove your importance by bleeding for it.
You were important long before you overgave. You still are. And your new reality can reflect that.
It begins when you stop giving what’s destroying you.
Written for I CAN BE Coaching Where your healing begins with remembering who you are.
