I can’t really recall when we started struggling as a family.
I remember a time when things were going well. We could buy what we wanted, travel when we felt like it, and even help relatives when they needed it. My mother carried most of that weight and somehow made it all possible.
Little by little, the savings disappeared. Things became tighter. At one point, I had to plead with my high school just so I could graduate. Somewhere along the way, I learned to grow up much earlier than I should have. While other kids were simply being kids, I was already thinking about how to help keep things together.
I took part-time jobs, looked for side hustles, and learned how to stretch every peso just to make it through college. When you grow up in that situation, you become familiar with sacrifice. You learn to give whatever you can, even when you have very little.
The thing is, when you cannot always give financially, you start giving in other ways.
I became the person who listened. The person who checked in. The person who made sure everyone felt supported, heard, and cared for. I gave my time, my energy, my patience, and my presence because those were the things I could afford to offer.
For a long time, I thought that was enough.
As life moved forward, things slowly became better. We were no longer struggling the way we once did. I eventually reached a point where I could contribute more financially, where I no longer had to constantly worry about making ends meet. But I carried the same values I learned from those difficult years. I still felt the need to give. I still felt responsible for making sure the people around me were okay.
And lately, life has been difficult in ways I did not expect.
I found myself still pouring into other people’s cups, asking what they needed, showing up when they were struggling, and making space for their feelings. Meanwhile, my own cup had been running empty for a very long time.
What feels ironic is that I can now offer more than I ever could before, but I can no longer give the same kind of support so effortlessly. The version of me that could endlessly listen, comfort, and carry everyone else’s burdens has grown tired. Not because I care less, but because years of giving without pause eventually take their toll.
The hardest realization was understanding that care is not an endless resource. Even the people who are always giving need somewhere to rest. Even the people who hold others together eventually need someone to hold them too.
I think growing up the way I did taught me to be dependable. It taught me resilience, empathy, and how to survive difficult seasons. But it also taught me to ignore my own needs, to mistake self-sacrifice for strength, and to believe that being useful was the same as being loved.
What I am learning now is that support should not only flow outward. It should flow inward too.
I do not have to earn my place in people’s lives by constantly giving pieces of myself away. Rest is not selfish. Boundaries are not rejection. My needs deserve the same attention I so freely give to others.
For most of my life, I became an expert at filling other people’s cups.
