You Can’t Give What You Don’t Have: Learning Healthy, Boundaried Compassion

Erika Baum
Oct 12
4 min read

Updated: Oct 19

Disclaimer: This site shares general information and ideas — not therapy, professional advice, or mental health treatment. Reading here does not make me your therapist (imagine the paperwork if it did). As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, ‘A mind stretched by new ideas never returns to its original dimension.’ That’s the spirit of what you’ll find here. Read on, my friend.

As compassionate people, we love to give. It’s part of who we are — we notice needs, we care deeply, and we often feel responsible for helping others feel safe and loved. But for those of us who grew up with relational trauma, knowing how much to give — and when to hold back — can get confusing.

We may not have learned what healthy, boundaried giving looks like. Maybe we grew up believing love meant self-sacrifice, or that our worth depended on how much we could do for others. Over time, this can lead to a pattern of overgiving — giving until we’re depleted, resentful, or quietly disconnected from ourselves.

A Simple Lesson from a Walk with My Daughter

Today, I was reminded of this while on a walk with my daughter. She kept asking me for a “chappie” — her word for chapstick, which happens to be one of her favorite things (and mine too). I had one in my pocket, but not an extra one to give her.

So I told her, “I don’t have an extra chapstick to give you.”

She kept asking, of course — like kids do. And I found myself thinking about how this tiny moment mirrors something much bigger. Because technically, I did have a chapstick. But I didn’t have an extra one I was willing to part with happily and freely. If I had given her mine, I would’ve been left without something I needed — and honestly, she probably would’ve destroyed it within minutes.

So I didn’t give it to her. Instead, I just applied my chapstick to her lips. This wasn't to the extent she wanted the chapstick (she wanted to hold it and play with it). But, that was the extent of what I could give her with a free and abundant heart.

And that’s when it hit me: sometimes the most compassionate thing we can do — for ourselves and others — is to not give what we don’t have to spare.

Why We Overgive

So why do we do this? Why do we overgive — often at our own expense?

When we come from dysfunctional or unpredictable family systems, overgiving can become a survival strategy. We may have learned early on that meeting everyone else’s needs kept the peace, secured approval, or helped us avoid conflict. Giving became the way we maintained connection and stability in an unsafe emotional environment.

Sometimes, we carry guilt — guilt for having more than others, for setting boundaries, or for simply existing in a way that’s different from what our family expected of us. Other times, we overgive to prove that we’re “good,” “selfless,” or “worthy.”

But overgiving isn’t the same as compassion. It’s not sustainable, and it almost always leads to resentment. And when resentment enters the picture, we can’t stay open-hearted in our relationships — because part of us is still keeping score, feeling unseen or unappreciated.

Giving from Wholeness

I saw this play out in my own life recently. Every year, I love giving little holiday gifts to every student in my daughter’s class. I do this because, when I was a child, I often felt left out — the kid not invited to the sleepover, the one who wasn’t part of the inner circle.

I made a vow that I wouldn’t pass that kind of exclusion on to my daughter or her peers.

So when her birthday came around, we invited the entire class. Only about half could come — but because of my work, I understand that not every family can attend birthday parties. Sometimes parents are introverted, strict, busy, or just overwhelmed. Kids don’t always understand that — they just feel left out.

So I made extra goodie bags for the kids who couldn’t come and brought them to school for the kids who couldn't attend.

But here’s the key difference: I wasn’t giving from obligation or guilt. I was giving from a place of abundance and joy. I wanted to offer something I didn’t have as a child — inclusion — but I wasn’t depleting myself to do it.

This kind of giving feels light, peaceful, and free of resentment. It is "Skillful Intention" and "Skillful Action" in motion.

Skillful Intention and Skillful Action

In Buddhist psychology, Skillful Intention and Skillful Action invite us to bring mindfulness and wisdom into our choices.

Skillful Intention asks: Why am I doing this? Am I giving from love, or from fear, guilt, or pressure?

Skillful Action asks: Will this reduce suffering — for both me and the other person?

When we act with Skillful Intention and Skillful Action, our giving becomes balanced and sustainable. We learn that generosity isn’t about self-sacrifice — it’s about connection. It’s about offering from fullness, not from emptiness.

Just as a candle can only light another when it still has its own flame, we can only offer true compassion when our own needs are honored too.

You Can’t Give What You Don’t Have

The next time you feel pulled to give beyond your limits — emotionally, financially, or energetically — pause and ask yourself:

Am I giving from fullness or depletion?
Will I feel peaceful about this later, or resentful?
Can I give this and still meet my own needs?

If the answer is no, it’s okay to hold onto your “chapstick.”

Healthy, boundaried giving says: I love you, and I also love myself.

That’s Skillful Intention and Skillful Action in practice — compassion guided by wisdom, not fear. It’s the middle path between self-sacrifice and self-protection — the place where authentic, sustainable compassion lives.