It’s been a few years now—we needed to move. Around that time, I met up with a foreign friend, and when the topic came up, he insisted on coming over to help us move. I thanked him, and the first thing that came out of my mouth was, “No, no, don’t bother—I’ll handle it.”
My friend insisted, and I turned him down once more. Finally, he said, “All right, then,” and left.
After he left, I found myself lost in thought. Because moving that whole house on my own would really be tough, and a little help would have been nice.
So I had turned down something I needed—even though I knew I needed it. And I’d done it politely, too.
Some time passed; that friend bought a house and was about to move. He asked if I’d come help, and I gladly went. In fact, after the move was over, he complimented me and thanked me, saying, “You carried three times as much as I did. I’d heard that Turkish soldiers are strong, but this is the first time I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
That day, I started thinking: If we’re so eager and capable when it comes to giving, why do we find it so hard to accept when it’s our turn to receive?
Let me get this point straight first, because we all have a misconception in our minds.
There’s a rule we learned in school: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Newton’s third law.
We all know this and unconsciously apply it to life. I gave, so something should come back. I helped, so I should be helped in return. I behaved well, so I should be treated well.
But human interactions don’t operate according to the laws of physics.
What you give may not come back in equal measure; even if it does, it might come from a different direction. Sometimes it may not come back at all. Other times, it might come back years later, from a place you never expected, in a completely different form.
So there is an equation here, but it’s not the one we set up. And the more we try to make that equation balance, the more we break.
Here, we need to accept something that’s uncomfortable but honest.
Anthropologist Marcel Mauss has a classic work titled “The Gift.” In the societies he studied, he observed the following: what we call a “gift” is never truly without expectation in any culture. Every gift creates an obligation. (1*)
According to Mauss, there are three obligations: giving, receiving, and reciprocating. All three are equally obligatory.
So the statement “I’m giving without expecting anything in return” is often not true. We’re expecting something. We just don’t even admit to ourselves what we’re expecting.
And because we don’t say it, the other party can’t know. Then, when what we expected doesn’t come, we get hurt, and the other party doesn’t understand why we’re hurt.
There’s also this: we all have a ledger inside us.
What others have done for us, what we’ve done for others. Of course, we don’t keep this ledger openly—we even deny its existence.
But when a relationship breaks down, what’s the first thing that comes to light? “I did all these things for you.”
So the ledger was there all along. It was just closed.
Now I’m getting to the point I really want to make.
We all know how to give. Books have been written about it; everyone has something to say about generosity.
But we don’t know how to receive. And this is hardly ever discussed.
What do you say when someone wants to help you?
“Don’t bother.” “It’s not necessary
—I’ll handle it.” “Come
on, why should you go to the trouble?”
We think of this as politeness. That’s how we’re taught in our culture—you shouldn’t be a burden to anyone.
But most of the time, this isn’t politeness. It’s an escape from feeling indebted.
Because accepting help leaves you vulnerable. You’re forced to admit you need something. On top of that, a debt is recorded in the ledger for the other person, and that debt stays there.
But here’s the really strange part—and I realized this after my friend left.
When we refuse to accept something, we’re also taking away the other person’s opportunity to give.
The man had offered; he wanted to help. Maybe out of kindness, maybe out of friendship, maybe just because he felt like carrying something, maybe just for the sake of exercise. I turned down his offer by saying, “Don’t bother.”
In other words, I cut generosity in half.
Always being the one who gives actually creates an imbalance. If you’re constantly giving, you leave the other person constantly in the position of the receiver. And after a while, this throws the relationship off balance, because no one wants to feel indebted all the time.
Sometimes, accepting is the most generous thing you can do.
So should we just give without limits? No, that’s another trap.
Organizational psychologist Adam Grant divides people into three categories: givers, takers, and matchers. The most interesting finding from his research is this: givers are found at both the very bottom and the very top of the success rankings. (2*)
In other words, giving either propels you to the top or drains you.
The difference lies in whether or not you set limits. Those who give without limits burn out because they leave nothing for themselves. Those who know their limits, however, can sustain themselves.
This makes sense to me. Generosity is, after all, a matter of resources. You can’t give what you don’t have, and you don’t fill anyone up by emptying yourself.
So where is the balance?
I don’t think what we call the “balance of giving and receiving” is about balancing the books. It’s never balanced, and it never will be. Trying to close that ledger is a lifelong task.
The balance lies here: Can you both give and receive?
Because someone who only gives actually upsets the balance. So does someone who only takes. Both are only half the picture.
And I think true maturity lies in this: being able to give without expecting anything in return, but also being able to accept without hesitation when something is given in return.
Once again, I’d like to share these practices I’ve developed for myself with you:
This week, when someone offers to help you, don’t say, “Don’t bother.” Just accept it and see how it makes you feel.
Name the response you’re secretly expecting in return for something you’ve given. Does it still seem reasonable once you’ve named it?
Open the notebook in your mind honestly, just once. What have you written to whom?
Ask someone for something. Let it be something small. Asking is also a form of giving—you’re giving the other person an opportunity to give.
Set a boundary just once. Saying “I can’t do this” means protecting what you’re able to give.
Do something for someone from whom you’ll never receive anything in return—someone who won’t even say thank you.
In one of my writings, I described how I got sick and the care my husband showed me. Now that I think about it, that’s one of the things that period taught me.
Because that week, I couldn’t refuse. I couldn’t get out of bed; I wasn’t in any condition to say, “Don’t bother.” I had to accept it.
And strangely enough, that necessity taught me something. I saw that accepting doesn’t diminish a person; on the contrary, it strengthens the bond between us.
Maybe that’s why that moving day has stayed with me so much. Back then, I wasn’t forced to, and I turned it down. Next time, I’ll accept it. At least that’s what I’m telling myself right now.
I’d like to ask you, too: When was the last time you accepted help from someone? How did you feel when you accepted it—relief or a sense of obligation?
See you in the next post. Until then, stay well.
(1*) Marcel Mauss, The Gift (1925)
(2*) Adam Grant, Give and Take (2013)
