I was taking a class at the Kabbalah Center in LA a few years ago, and I learned a concept that confronted one of my deepest shadows called “bread of shame.” This is what happens when you’re overgiving to someone who doesn’t have the vessel to receive what you are giving. 

“This is what happens when you’re overgiving to someone who doesn’t have the vessel to receive what you are giving.”

The instructor gave an example that makes me laugh: Someone holds out a drinking glass for some water; you are feeling generous and decide to go above and beyond and give them a gallon of water. You start pouring into their cup, and after it’s full, it dumps all over the person and their clothes. Nobody is happy. You wasted your water, they certainly didn’t appreciate your generosity, and now they are angry and wet. Nobody walked away from that interaction feeling good. 

You might have thought you had good intentions, but with this as the result, you have to take a look in the mirror and ask yourself why you did it. Were you overgiving because you wanted to be liked or perceived in a certain way? Because you thought it was the generous or moral thing to do? The visual paints a clear picture of the potential repercussions of giving more than someone can hold — and shows why giving with boundaries is important for everyone. ✨

Historically, I’ve been an overgiver. I was raised in the school of “if you have something to give, you must give it” — not necessarily monetarily, but energetically. If you can help someone out, if you can spread your joy, if you can listen, if you can dance at a party to uplift the vibes, then you must do it. In fact, my parents considered it selfish not to. I felt pressured to perform and “bring the fun,” even when it wasn’t natural to me.

“If you can spread your joy, if you can listen, if you can dance at a party to uplift the vibes, then you must do it. In fact, my parents considered it selfish not to.”

I distinctly remember getting in trouble in the sixth grade after a middle school chorus performance. I hated chorus and was embarrassed to sing, so I stood unsmiling in the back, hardly moving my mouth to the words. The dress code was to wear a white top, but instead of dressing nicely, I wore a white hoodie inside out, because it had a logo on one side. 

My mom was livid. “You have so much to be grateful for, so much to give. Why are you being so selfish?” I felt guilty and annoyed that my mom was upset, but I was just a 12-year-old, authentically not enjoying chorus, and nothing was going to change that. 

Still, nothing was worse than my mom being mad at me, so I wrote her an apology note (she has a box of those), and was on my best behavior to try to cheer her up.

She’s since apologized to me for her sometimes extreme “moral” perspectives, and totally accepts me as I am today. But when I started exploring my inner landscape in my twenties, one of the biggest beliefs I needed to let go of was the idea that I was selfish if I didn’t give my all — or more than my all. 

“One of the biggest beliefs I needed to let go of was the idea that I was selfish if I didn’t give my all — or more than my all.”

That story with my mom taught my inner child something: If I didn’t overgive — let’s define it as “giving outside the bounds of what’s authentic” — I’d get in trouble. I grew into a teenager who was always trying to please my mom, manage her emotions, and stay out of trouble. And boy, did it follow me into my adult life.

It seems like we’re always trying to work out these childhood wounds with the present-day characters in our lives… usually with people who represent the parent you have unresolved issues with, often of the same gender or temperament. So for more years than I’d like to admit, I repeated the dynamic with my mom in relationships with certain girlfriends and female bosses.

First with friends: If I encountered someone with a bossy, emotional, or critical personality, I knew how to contort myself to make them happy. I got rewarded with friendship, but I paid the toll. Constant anxiety that they were going to get mad at me, feeling small, misunderstood, and resentful that I wasn’t being myself. 

After a while, I’d reach a breaking point, disengage, speak up, set a boundary, and it would usually end in a friendship breakup. I’d tell myself they were just so difficult, but the hard truth was that I just wasn’t being myself. Maybe the friendship wouldn’t have been a good fit if I was, or maybe we would have learned to accept our differences. But I wasn’t willing to risk being disliked. And in turn, I always was.

“I’d tell myself they were just so difficult, but the hard truth was that I just wasn’t being myself.”

Then the particularly Freudian dynamic: When I entered the workforce, I only ever had female bosses, who I continued to expect to behave like my mom had when I was a child. I felt like I had to give 200% to stay employed, be liked, and appreciated. I became a workaholic, responded to messages in seconds, learned to anticipate their needs and meet them before they could ask for anything — and best of all, imagined they were going to suddenly decide to fire me at least once a week.

In some cases, I turned into an emotional caretaker too, blurring the line too far into friendship territory, making it nearly impossible to recover our professional boundaries.

Giving too much had its advantages for a while. I got opportunities, I got really good at my job, and got great referrals. “I couldn’t do this business without you,” many would say, but these flattering words often came without compensation, a huge workload, and a ton of pressure.

Little by little, I got burnt out from overgiving, overworking, and not being myself. Finally, I’d quit, only to repeat the dynamic all over again… until I reached a breaking point around age 28. By then, it seemed like such an obvious, insidious pattern. And I was very aware that the common denominator was me. I was ready to stop giving “bread of shame,” and learn to be myself. But how? ✨

I started working with a coach, who helped me realize that the way I was showing up was the effect of an incorrect belief I had about myself. Going all the way back to that chorus performance, I really did believe deep in my core that I was selfish and had to overgive to keep the peace. Before I could set any boundaries, or try to change my relationships with other people, I had to start with the relationship with myself. I had to name it, understand that it was not the truth of my nature but just something I learned along the way, and forgive myself. 

“I had to name it, understand that it was not the truth of my nature but just something I learned along the way, and forgive myself.”

As Carl Jung wrote, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” This is the work I had to do.

We used a parts work technique from IFS (internal family systems), to talk to the little parts inside of me that were trying to protect me by making sure that I was liked and safe by showing up as an overgiver. And after making the unconscious conscious, deciding to repeat the pattern became my decision. I needed to start showing up differently. I needed to start showing up more honestly, more as ME.

The reason why “being yourself” is so important is that it’s a natural sorting mechanism. We don’t actually want the wrong friend or the wrong job just because we can contort ourselves into being a match for it. We want the friends, and the jobs, that are soul-aligned and ultimately supportive of us becoming more us. And this takes courage, because it means you will certainly get some “nos” along the way. But what if “nos” are actually the best sign you can get that you are headed in the right direction?

“Being “unselfish” looks a lot more like being honest than overgiving.”

Once I started stepping into my power, some relationships naturally fell away as the sorting mechanism turned on. But instead of agonizing over the endings, I’m reminded that what blesses one blesses all. They were going to find a more aligned community for them than I could ever be. Someone who actually wants them there, who isn’t being inauthentic to make them happy. Someone who is not breeding resentment with a happy face on. Being “unselfish” looks a lot more like being honest than overgiving.

Breaking this pattern also took a lot of boundary setting — more with myself than others. This looked like: 

  • NOT saying yes when I wanted to say no. 
  • NOT responding in a second, even if I could, and instead giving myself some time to think on things. 
  • NOT putting other people’s needs above my own. 
  • NOT saying I liked something, or was ok with something, if it wasn’t true…even if it led to disagreement. 

The number of times I’ve had to hold my tongue and say “I’ll get back to you on that” is more than I can count. I’ve had to learn that it’s okay not to be available to meet everyone’s needs, all of the time. And I don’t have to carry perpetual anxiety about that. ✨

If you’re reading this and realizing you’re an overgiver too: You are not alone! 

“The path to freedom starts with giving that part of you that thinks it needs to contort itself to be loved a big hug!”

The path to freedom starts with giving that part of you that thinks it needs to contort itself to be loved a big hug! And then giving yourself some space to think about how you want to show up, and respond in a way that’s truly authentic to how you are feeling. 

Now, most of my relationships are on healthy and honest footing. I even have fights and disagreements with people, which feels like a big accomplishment for a people pleaser. 

I’m learning to be okay with people having the wrong perception of me, without completely spinning out. And beyond the repercussions on my friendships and work life, I feel a lot more inner peace that I am being honest and honoring myself.

Grace Abbott is a LA-based freelance Brand & Marketing Strategist and a Contributing Editor at The Good Trade. She has a degree in Graphic Design from Parsons School of Design and is the founder of How To Go Freelance — a brand dedicated to empowering creatives to monetize their skills and build personal brands. Beyond work, she’s always studying a new spiritual modality, painting her bedroom a new color, practicing Pilates, hosting friends, or going on a nature walk with her chihuahua, Donnie. Find her on Substack or Instagram.