🌼***"Do I Still Matter When I'm Not Giving?"

A November Reflection on Worth, Receiving, and Healing**

There’s a question I came across recently that landed deep in my chest:

“Do I still matter even when I’m not giving?”

Something in me paused when I read it —

not my mind, which already “knows better,”

but the quieter part of me that’s lived a lifetime wondering if my worth comes from what I do instead of who I am.

For most of my life, I tied my value to my usefulness.

If I was helping, fixing, supporting, accommodating…

then I mattered.

Then I was safe.

Then I was lovable.

But what happens when the giving stops?

What happens when life breaks you so completely that you have nothing left to offer except your exhausted, trembling heart?

Do I still matter then?

🌿 The Parts of Me That Learned to Survive

Growing up, I adapted without even realizing it.

Not because anyone wanted to hurt me,

but because my environment shaped me to walk carefully, speak softly, and scan for danger in order to feel safe.

Internal Family Systems (IFS) helped me understand this in a new way.

According to IFS, we all have inner “parts” formed to protect us:

the people-pleaser

the over-apologizer

the caretaker

the fixer

the avoider

the perfectionist

the part that believes love always has to be earned

One of the most powerful questions my therapist ever asked me was:

“Does that part of you know how old you are?”

The answer was always no.

That part of me was still eight years old —

still trying to keep everyone calm,

still trying to make myself small to prevent conflict,

still believing my safety depended on everyone else being okay.

My adult self was living my life,

but my child parts were still managing my emotional world.

And I don’t reject those parts.

I honor them.

They protected me.

They kept me safe.

They helped me survive things I wasn’t ready to process.

Healing now means turning toward them and saying:

“I’m here now.

I’m grown.

You don’t have to protect me the old way anymore.”

🌿 The Years I Spent Apologizing for Existing

There’s another layer to all of this:

over-apologizing.

Not the genuine kind,

but the reflex —

the automatic “I’m sorry” that slips out before I even breathe.

I remember playing volleyball years ago, long before I had kids.

Every time the ball came near me, I blurted:

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Finally, thankfully,someone said,

“Stop saying you’re sorry.”

Not harshly — just honestly.

And that’s when I realized:

I wasn’t apologizing for my mistakes.

I was apologizing for taking up space.

For existing.

For being visible.

That’s what happens when you grow up trying to stay safe by being small.

Healing now means learning to replace:

“I’m sorry” with

“I’m here.”

“I’m allowed.”

“I matter.”

“I exist — unapologetically.”

🌿 The Loop of Giving, Resentment, and Guilt

Here’s the pattern so many of us live in:

give → overgive → deplete → resent → feel guilty → give more.

The silent belief underneath is:

“If I stop giving, I’ll lose my value.”

And layered on top of that?

The messages we’ve heard all our lives:

“You should be grateful.”

“Don’t complain.”

“Others have it worse.”

“Look on the bright side.”

Gratitude matters — but gratitude doesn’t erase unmet needs.

It doesn’t heal childhood wounds.

It doesn’t replace emotional nourishment.

This November, I am practicing a different kind of truth:

I can be grateful AND still acknowledge what hurt.

I can appreciate what I have AND grieve what I didn’t receive.

This isn’t contradiction.

It’s emotional honesty.

🌿 The Quiet Knowing That Never Left

Even in the years I disconnected from myself,

there was always a soft inner whisper:

“You deserve more.”

“You don’t have to walk on eggshells.”

“You shouldn’t have to earn love.”

“You matter.”

That voice was drowned out by protectors and fear —

but it never disappeared.

Today, I’m learning to let it be louder.

🌿 Why Receiving Feels So Uncomfortable

Receiving — truly receiving — is a skill I never learned.

When someone offers kindness,

my body still reacts:

“What do they want?”

“What’s the catch?”

“Why would they do that for me?”

“Am I doing enough to deserve this?”

Because so often in my life, love or help came with strings.

Now I’m learning:

I don’t have to earn love.

I don’t have to earn worth.

I don’t have to earn rest.

I don’t have to earn compassion.

Receiving is a muscle I’m strengthening —

slowly, gently, painfully.

It feels like that moment in The Grinch

when his heart grows and aches with the expansion.

That’s what receiving feels like for me:

an ache that signals growth.

🌿 Where Grief Meets Worthiness

There is another layer —

one that shapes everything:

the grief of losing my son.

The day Elijah died,

every survival strategy I had ever used fell apart.

People-pleasing couldn’t save me.

Fixing couldn’t save me.

Being useful couldn’t save me.

Being strong couldn’t save me.

I remember dropping to my knees,

people trying to lift me up,

and all I could say was:

“Just let me be.”

There was nowhere to run.

Nothing to fix.

No mask to hide behind.

No role to perform.

Just grief — raw, unfiltered, unbearable.

And afterward, I judged myself:

“Why can’t I move?”

“Why can’t I be who I was before?”

“Why can’t I get anything done?”

“Why do I feel so lazy?”

But grief is not laziness.

Grief is a dismantling.

A full-body shutdown.

A rewiring of every part of your being.

And here is something I need to say clearly:

I am NOT grateful for losing my son.

I will never be grateful for that.

But I am grateful for something else:

I am grateful for the ways Elijah still shows me the way.

For the signs.

For the moments of connection.

For the love that didn’t die.

For the strength he awakens in me.

For the clarity he brings to what truly matters.

It is not gratitude for his loss.

It is gratitude for his continued presence in my life.

The grief broke me open —

but the love keeps me moving forward.

🌿 The Ripple Effect: Why My Healing Matters

I want my children and grandchildren to live differently.

To know:

They matter when they rest.

They matter when they say no.

They matter when they are quiet.

They do not have to perform to be loved.

Their worth is not measured by their usefulness.

But the truth is:

I must live it for them to learn it.

Healing myself is healing them.

My boundaries become their blueprint.

My self-worth becomes their foundation.

It is never too late to rewrite the emotional inheritance.

🌿 The Guilt I Still Carry

I carry guilt for the ways my children suffered.

It’s a mother’s ache — deep, relentless, honest.

But guilt is not the full story.

There is also grace.

There is compassion.

There is understanding.

There is truth:

I did the best I could with what I had.

And now, I’m doing better — for them, and for me.

🌿 Where I Am Now

Here is what I’m learning,

slowly, gently, imperfectly:

I matter even when I’m not giving.

I am worthy even when I’m resting.

I deserve love even when I’m not fixing anything.

I matter when I am simply being — not doing.

And every day,

I’m learning how to receive.

One breath at a time.

It is never too late to heal.

Never too late to grow.

Never too late to choose yourself.

Never too late to show the next generation a new way.

Maybe that’s my real gratitude this November:

Gratitude for the parts that protected me.

Gratitude for the parts that are healing now.

Gratitude for the voice that never gave up on me.

Gratitude that I am no longer abandoning myself.

Gratitude for a heart that is still stretching and expanding.

Gratitude for the love that still surrounds me — seen and unseen.

🌼 A Closing Reflection: Enlivening the Inner Senses

As I continue to heal, I’m learning to notice the world — and myself — differently.

Noticing how grief lives in my body.

Noticing the tenderness in rest.

Noticing the ways love still finds me, even now.

This is what it means to enliven the senses —

not just the outer ones,

but the inner ones:

the sense of worth,

the sense of presence,

the sense of self.

So I ask you gently:

Where do you stop yourself from receiving?

Where do you shrink when you could soften?

Where do you apologize for simply existing?

Yogi Bhajan said, “If you want to master something, teach it.”

Maybe this is how I am mastering myself —

by finally learning to notice myself

with the same tenderness I’ve always given to others.

Maybe that is the truest healing of all:

to finally see myself,

to finally value myself,

to finally receive myself.

🌼 Note: What Is Internal Family Systems (IFS)?

IFS is a therapeutic approach that sees us as having different “parts” — inner roles created to help us survive emotionally.

These include:

✨ protectors

✨ wounded child parts

✨ avoiders

✨ perfectionists

✨ people-pleasers

✨ and a calm, grounded core Self

IFS teaches us not to reject any part of ourselves,

but to understand, honor, and gently heal them.

For anyone curious, the book No Bad Parts by Dr. Richard Schwartz is a beautiful introduction, or you can explore it with a therapist trained in IFS.