When Giving Becomes Depletion

 for the moms who give and give and still feel like they’re falling behind

“There’s a life that belongs to you, still waiting for you to claim it.”  — Elizabeth Gilbert

You wanted this.

Let’s start there. 

You wanted the kids.

The husband.

The home. 

You didn’t fall into this life—you built it.

And you meant it. 

You had dreams of being the kind of mother who made cinnamon rolls from scratch and wiped noses with tenderness. 

You had visions of love and laughter and a deep, sacred rhythm in your home.

You wanted to give. 

It made you feel alive.

So what happened?

Now you’re here. 

Half-empty coffee. 

Half-dressed body. 

Half-formed thought about how many hours are left until bedtime.

The giving didn’t stop—it multiplied. 

But it stopped being sacred. 

It became expected.

You give because no one else thinks to. 

You give because it’s easier than explaining why you’re tired. 

You give because if you stopped, the whole thing might fall apart.

You used to give with your heart. 

Now you give with clenched teeth.

Why we do this

Because we’re wired to love through action. 

Because we were told that “good” women are selfless. 

Because most of us grew up watching mothers who were tired and believed that was just the cost of the job.

Somewhere along the way, we started confusing love with labor. 

We started confusing devotion with disappearance. 

We believed that to be enough, we had to give everything.

And no one stopped us—because it was working. 

For everyone else.

What homeopathy sees

In homeopathy, we don’t just look at your exhaustion or hormones or irritability. 

We look at what those symptoms say.

We ask:

• What have you been holding for too long?

• Where did you stop asking for anything back?

• When did your body start speaking up because your mouth didn’t?

  
  

Homeopathy is not just about "getting your energy back.” 

It’s about getting your self back.

The part of you that still knows how to rest. 

How to laugh at the mess. 

How to give because you want to, not because you have to.

The turning point

Elizabeth Gilbert says:

“You are the custodian of your own joy... if you don't guard it, who will?”

You’re not powerless inside this story. 

You are the author. 

And that means you can rework the plot. 

You can start with a single sentence that says: 

“I’m allowed to matter here, too.”

This isn’t martyrdom. 

This is motherhood with a soul.

And it's never too late to call yourself back into the picture.

The way out

It’s not a spa day. 

It’s not outsourcing dinner. 

(It’s definitely not another planner or productivity hack.)

It’s a deep, cellular kind of exhale. 

The kind that comes when your body starts trusting that it’s allowed to stop compensating.

When your symptoms unravel—emotionally, physically, spiritually—so you don’t have to.

You don’t need to give less. 

You need to give from a different place.

What helps (besides a good homeopathic remedy)

Healing doesn’t just happen because of what you take. It’s also how you start living again—slowly, deliberately, in the direction of your own return.

Adjuncts to support your care:

• 🧂 Cell salts: Kali Phos or Calc Phos when mental fatigue or overwhelm is high.

• 🛁 Magnesium flakes bath with a few drops of lavender and geranium oil.

• 🍵 Nervous system tea: Skullcap, oatstraw, lemon balm. Sip in silence, ideally when no one is asking you for anything.

• 📵 30-minute tech fast: No screens. No scrolling. Just let your mind open again.

• 🧺 One sacred task: Light a candle before folding laundry. Bless the socks. Make it yours again.

Journal this

Choose one, or free-write around all three:

• If I believed I mattered just as much as they do, how would today look different?

• What did I used to love doing before everything became about doing for others?

• If my body could speak, what would she say about the way I’ve been living?

You don’t need to give less. 

You just need to give from a place that includes you. 

And you’re allowed to start today.

This week, I’ll be offering free constitutional care to two women who feel this in their bones. 

One will be chosen quietly from the applications I receive.

The other will come from a story shared on Instagram.

To apply, make sure you’re on my email list. That’s where I’ll be sending the link and the details.

→ Sign up here to receive the application

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In service to the highest good,

Lindsay