I have a friend who has a problem with giving. Every month, when she and her spouse allot personal “fun money” for each of them, my friend immediately donates almost all of hers to various community causes. What’s the problem? you may ask. That’s so generous!
Well, maybe.
But my friend admits that her giving feels like a compulsion. She does it without even thinking, and it often means that she doesn’t have money left over to go out to dinner with friends, or invest in hobbies, or do anything else that might nourish her.
She’s not alone. So many of us do this.
Even if it isn’t money, maybe you give away your time, filling every spare moment with helping your colleagues, friends, neighbors, kids. Maybe you give away your attention, to social media, scrolling, and whatever pings on your screen. Maybe you give away your energy to people or projects that are emotionally and psychically draining.
Why do we do this?!
You have but one wild and precious life (thanks Mary Oliver) and you’re going to spend it uncritically giving your life-energy to things that you may or may not actually care about? And then later feel resentful, angry, and depleted?
I know why.
Because this society tells me that, in order to be a good person, particularly as a woman and a mother, I need to wring myself out until there’s nothing left.
Plus, if I give away all my money, time, attention, and energy, I don’t have to ask myself what I actually want. I don’t have to grapple with the discomfort of feeling undeserving or guilty for indulging my own desires or attending to my own needs.
Heck, I don’t even have to admit that I have desires or needs! Nice!
In compulsive giving, I get to feel like a good, magnanimous, and generous person—or at least not like a selfish and bad one. I get to be like the Giving Tree in that depressing Shel Silverstein children’s book.
But, as I am learning in my year-long exploration of Generosity, “giving” and “generosity” are not the same thing.
Although I’m still not certain about precise definitions, I’m pretty sure that true generosity doesn’t result in resentment, bitterness, or financial, emotional, psychic, or spiritual poverty.
Maybe, as my old therapist said to me back in February, the best way to show up in this world is to be sufficiently generous with myself, as well as others. Maybe I should only give when it comes from a sense of sufficiency, community, and maybe even joy.
Do you have a giving problem? Comment on this post!
Weekly Gifts
This year I’m working on my theme of Generosity by giving at least one gift every week of the year, and to chronicle and reflect on them here.
Week 34, Aug 19-25: My neighbors and I had a block party. My husband ordered a bounce house, we grilled chicken, my daughter did a raffle and gave away prizes that were small treasures from her bedroom. Lots of other families also gave of their time, food, flowers, music, and lawn games. It was a festival of giving.
Week 35, Aug 26-Sep 1: My family and I did some traveling back the east coast and stayed with friends. We bought meals as thank yous for the free lodging, and I’m starting to see this exchange as less transactional than I used to. There’s something special about each part of that exchange being an offering, not an agreed-upon price.
Week 36, Sep 2-8: My husband was supposed to give a presentation at the Rose City Comicon this year, but got sick with Covid. Comicon is not really my thing, so he had intended to bring our daughter to the convention. When he fell ill, I made the personal sacrifice of walking blindly into the cos-play carnival with her instead.
Week 37, Sep 9-15: I bought my kiddo a book that she wanted. Gift giving is not my love language (I’m more a quality time and acts of service type), and normally, my daughter would use her allowance for such a desire. But, maybe because of all this work on giving I’ve been doing, I felt moved.
Danielle LaSusa Ph.D. is a Philosophical Coach, helping new moms grapple with what it means to make a person. She is the creator of The Meaning of Motherhood course, which explores the changes in identity, meaning, and wisdom that come with motherhood. To join her mailing list, subscribe here.
© Copyright Danielle LaSusa PhD, LCC, 2021. All rights reserved.
