Why Did I Give So Much?

For a long time, I thought I knew the answer.

I gave because I wanted to help. When I saw someone struggling, lonely, overlooked, or treated unfairly, I wanted to do something about it.

Sometimes I did not simply want to help. I wanted to brighten their lives. I wanted to make a change.

At the time, the logic seemed simple.

If people were not being seen, I would see them. If people were not being helped, I would help them. If the world lacked kindness, I would add kindness. If life had been unfair to someone, perhaps I could make it a little fairer.

For years, I believed that was the whole story.

Looking back, I think there was more to it.

I have always been sensitive to unfairness. I would see people working hard but barely making ends meet. I would see people born into circumstances that gave them few opportunities. I would see people carrying burdens that nobody seemed to notice.

Something inside me would protest.

This is not right.

Without realizing it, I slowly promoted myself from helper to rescuer.

I was no longer offering kindness. I was trying to correct the unfairness itself. I was trying to make up for what families and communities had failed to provide.

It was an impossible job.

One person can offer warmth. One person cannot carry an entire world's worth of unfairness.

Looking back, I also see that my giving was not only about them.

It was about me.

When I helped someone, I felt that my life mattered. I felt connected to the world. I felt that I had added something good.

If I were gone someday, perhaps some of that warmth would remain. Perhaps I would not have lived entirely in vain.

I do not think those desires were wrong.

I think they are deeply human.

The mistake was believing that I could satisfy them by taking responsibility for more and more people.

Eventually the balance broke.

The harder I fought against unfairness, the more unfairness seemed to accumulate in my own life.

The more people I tried to make visible, the more invisible I became.

The harder I tried, the worse things got.

I spent years standing up for people who were overlooked or treated unfairly.

But when unfairness happened to me, most simply watched. Some disappeared. A few benefited from it.

That realization hurt more than I expected.

Not because I wanted repayment.

But because it forced me to confront a question I had somehow never asked.

Why was I the only person I was not fighting for?

Today I no longer believe it is my responsibility to rescue everyone I encounter.

It is my responsibility to defend myself.

For a very long time, I forgot that. Worse, I often did the opposite.

It took me a very long time to learn it.

I still want to contribute a little warmth to the world.

But I will not set myself on fire to do it.

And I finally remember that I belong in that circle too.