I’ve always been someone who gives. It comes naturally for me to offer, to do, to care. But accepting help or kindness? That has never been easy.
Most of my life I felt uncomfortable when someone tried to do something for me. I didn’t want to trouble anyone. When a friend gave me a gift, I felt a knot in my stomach. If someone offered to help, I quickly brushed it off with, “No, it’s okay, I’ve got it.” On the surface, it seemed like a sign of strength. Inside, it was guilt—like I was taking up too much space or becoming a burden.
What I didn’t know was that when we only give, we can quietly starve our relationships of balance. Giving without receiving may seem generous, but it causes love to become one-sided. It leaves no space for the other person to step in, to feel needed, or to matter.
Last week, I had the chance to put what I’ve been learning into practice.
We had just bought our motorhome, and while I was excited, there was one thing I really disliked: the harsh cool-white lights inside, especially in the bathroom. I prefer the softer glow of warm-white lighting instead.
My partner noticed and immediately started changing them for me. Some of the fittings were tricky, and I could see the effort it took to remove each LED lamp. My old instinct kicked in. That familiar voice whispered: He’s working too hard for you. Don’t trouble him. Just tell him it’s fine. You can live with it.
Usually, I would listen to that voice. I would stop him and give up what I wanted just to avoid feeling guilty for asking too much. But I caught myself. I reminded myself: This is my practice. This is where I learn to receive.
I took a deep breath and let him continue. Despite everything I’ve learned, those old patterns still emerge. Practice helps me weaken them, gradually.
It wasn’t just about the lights; it was about what was happening between us. By letting him do this for me, I wasn’t only accepting warmer lighting—I was receiving love. I was letting him show up, be needed, and I was allowing myself to need him.
And something else happened, too. Watching him focus on those small details to make the space more comfortable for me made me feel cared for. It reminded me that partnership isn’t built on doing everything yourself. It’s built on letting love move both ways.
I’ve also realized something crucial about giving and receiving: they need to be in balance.
When someone does something for us, it’s natural to feel a little indebted, as if we owe them in return. That’s why receiving can feel so uncomfortable because we don’t want to carry that invisible weight of obligation.
I felt this strongly whenever someone gave me a gift, a favor, or a kindness. I would immediately feel guilt, thinking I owed them something in return. They are doing too much for me. Interestingly, I never thought about it that way when I was the one giving. When I helped someone or offered something, it came from love, not from keeping score.
But why did being on the receiving end feel different then?
And here’s the part that surprised me: giving and receiving are part of the same dance. Giving without receiving isn’t really generosity—it’s control. It keeps the other person indebted and reinforces my role as the strong one, instead of allowing me to be human.
If one person always gives and never receives, the rhythm breaks. Love flows best when it goes both ways—when we allow ourselves to receive with gratitude and to give generously, without turning it into a debt ledger.
In this relationship, I’ve started practicing the art of receiving in small, everyday ways. I let him carry my bags. I let him wash my car. I let him do the things that, for years, I would have brushed off with, “It’s okay, I’ll do it.”
And every time, I feel that same gentle easing inside. Because it’s not really about the task, it’s about what it represents.
When I say yes, I’m not just permitting him to help me. I’m letting him care for me. And every time I do, it brings us closer.
I believe many of us struggle with this balance. We tend to think that giving makes us selfless. But if we refuse to receive, aren’t we actually being selfish? Not intentionally or consciously, of course—but think about it. Because we’re blocking the flow of love that can only move when it travels both ways. When we refuse to receive, we’re not just protecting ourselves from guilt or vulnerability; we’re also denying someone else the chance to give.
The truth is, love is built on exchange. On rhythm. On both hands being open. Giving and receiving both matter.
Next time someone offers you something, big or small, take a moment before dismissing it. Remember that saying yes might not be a sign of weakness; it could be what keeps love alive.
I would love to hear from you:
- Do you feel more comfortable giving than receiving?
- What feelings arise when someone offers help or does something for you?
- What does it mean to allow someone to give to you, not because you can’t do it yourself, but because love needs space to flow both ways?
This week, focus on the small ways people show they care for you. Instead of rejecting it, practice saying yes. See how it feels to let love in, one small moment at a time.
