less is best, I guess

Less Is Best, I Guess

What I’ve learned—over and over—is that giving more than someone gives you doesn’t make them appreciate it.

It doesn’t create connection.

It usually ruins it.

They start looking at you like you’re too much.

Too available. Too eager.

Like something must be wrong with you for offering what they didn’t earn.

Even I catch myself doing it sometimes—

thinking, what do they want from me?

When someone comes in too strong, too generous, it makes me pause.

Maybe that says more about my wounds than theirs.

But I’ve seen it everywhere—family, friendships, sex work, relationships, business.

When someone gives too much, too fast, people start questioning the motive.

Not the gift.

Not the effort.

You.

And me? I’m naturally a giver.

I like helping people. Taking care of them.

When I’m in, I’m all in.

That’s just how I move.

And I go hard for the people I love.

But I’ve had to learn how to pull back—how to hold.

Is that jaded? Maybe.

But I don’t see it that way.

Because no matter how many times I’ve been disappointed,

I still love just as hard.

Still fall the same.

And I’m not about to let anyone take that away from me.

I’m just not offering it upfront anymore.

Now I match energy.

I give less.

Not because I’m bitter—because I’m smarter.

Less is best, I guess.

Not my rule. Just how it works.

You think you’re building something,

but they think you’re trying too hard.

Suddenly, you’re not a blessing—you’re a liability.

Not a challenge. Just someone to manage.

And instead of rising to meet you,

they pull back.

Like your effort is threatening.

Like they need to protect themselves from you.

It’s backwards.

That’s when you realize you’ve got to protect your giving ass from their taking ass.

Because they don’t appreciate it.

Maybe they can’t.

Maybe they feel guilty because they’ve got nothing to give.

Or maybe your light touches places they’ve spent their whole life hiding.

Once someone gets used to your overgiving,

they stop seeing it as generous.

It becomes expected.

And when you stop?

You’re the problem.

You’re cold.

You “switched up.”

No—you just stopped doing both people’s work.

You stopped rescuing.

Relationships are rarely equal.

One person always wants more.

One gives more.

One stays longer.

And then it flips.

The real trick—no pun intended—

isn’t getting it to balance.

It’s making sure you don’t both check out at the same time.

Because once you do, it’s done.

And no—giving more doesn’t fix it.

Yes, at the start, someone’s supposed to chase.

And it better be him.

He should pursue.

Y’all love doing that. You’re hunters. Women are gatherers.

And honestly? The longer he chases, the better.

But it shouldn’t stay that way forever.

It’s supposed to evolve.

Take turns.

Reciprocate.

It should feel mutual.

But when nobody’s chasing?

Nobody’s reaching or showing up?

That’s when the problems enter the chat.

Now there’s a difference between loving someone and enabling them.

Between caring and saving.

Don’t do that.

Because when you do, you’re interrupting karma.

And karma?

She doesn’t like that.

She’s got a job, and if you try to do it for her, she’ll hand it to you instead.

If someone’s in a mess, let them clean it.

If they’ve got issues, let them face them.

Do not rescue people.

If someone’s miserable and you’re radiant—be careful.

People in a dark place don’t always want to rise.

They’ll pull you down to match.

Not even on purpose.

Just by proximity.

It’s like osmosis—energy tries to equalize.

And if you’re not careful, it’ll drain you.

You worked hard to feel whole.

To be clear.

To stay grounded.

You show up.

You do the work.

You don’t numb out or run or disappear.

So don’t give that to someone who chooses chaos.

That’s like living with a slob when you’re a clean freak.

It’s not quirky. It’s drama.

And you always know when it’s happening—because energy doesn’t lie.

You know who does lie?

People.

Constantly.

Honestly, I still can’t wrap my head around it.

It’s wild.

I expect people to show up like I do—real, honest, steady.

But they don’t.

And when they don’t, it hits.

But that’s another topic. Maybe next week.

For now, just know this—

energy doesn’t lie.

You feel it in your gut, your body, your bones.

You know when you’re being drained.

You know when someone isn’t filling your cup.

And if they’re not?

Leave. Immediately. And take your cup with you.

Fuck ‘em. Jk. In fact, I mean don’t fuck them, at least not literally. Whatever you do, just don’t. Protect your energy man or woman.

Because it never works.

All it does is bleed you out.

I still love big.

But I don’t give big to people who show up small.

Because I’ve learned:

the more you give to the wrong person, the faster they forget it was ever a gift. You are the gift!

And the truth is—not everyone is a good person.

If you’re someone who shows up hard, rides all the way, loyal, real, giving—

you are rare.

You are valuable.

You are not average.

Many will pretend to be just like you.

Those people are pros at pretending. They know

Exactly what to say to hook and sink you. Then once you’re hooked they will show their true ugly colors, and act like you are asking for too much. When you bring up their change in behavior as a problem. They have spent a life time conning people. They will gaslight the hell out of you.

That’s when you have to watch energy, words and actions.

Because their words and actions will not match up.

As soon as you see actions and words misaligned RUN

You just can’t give out free passes to your amazingness. Bad people don’t appreciate it. They just want to destroy it.

And if someone gets access to that?

They’re holding something very special.

And if they’re worthy—if they really match you—

they’ll want to pour back into you tenfold.

That’s how it should be.

In my experience, that’s the difference.

When it’s right, it’s mutual.

You give, they give.

Not to keep score—just because it feels good to match the energy.

And when two people are showing up like that,

being solid, generous, real—

it’s rare.

But it’s beautiful.

And it’s worth protecting. Definitely worth holding out for.

Believe me, I know.

I do.

Because I’m that way.

And every time I fall in love with someone,

I fall in love with myself even more.

Because I’m reminded of just how amazing I am.

Like—damn.

I’m giving. Honest. So real.

Hardworking.

I love deep.

I hold space.

I show up.

I don’t ghost.

I’m just amazing.

Unfortunately, most people aren’t good enough for me.

And if you’re anything like me, they’re not good enough for you either.

That type—our type—is far and few.

So be vigilant.

And hold out.

Don’t get caught up giving to someone who can’t give back.

Don’t waste your loyalty on a mess you didn’t make.

Especially when you’ve worked this hard to hold your life together.

Be careful who you give your time to.

Because once it’s gone—

it doesn’t come back