Even If You Give Everything, It’ll Never Be Enough - Gita On Setting Boundaries
Riya Kumari | Jun 27, 2025, 23:41 IST
Let me tell you a secret that isn’t a secret at all: you could twist yourself into a pretzel of patience, wrap your heart in glittery gift wrap, and serve it up on a monogrammed platter—and still, someone will say, “Hmm, could’ve been warmer.” We live in a world where giving your all is applauded until it quietly becomes expected. And suddenly, you’re not generous—you’re just… available. Like WiFi. Like pizza at 2 a.m. You’re no longer a miracle. You’re a menu option.
There comes a moment—quiet but sharp—when you realize you’ve been pouring yourself into people, causes, conversations, jobs, situations... and still, somehow, it’s not enough. You were kind. Patient. Understanding. Available. You gave your time, your help, your silence, your voice. And yet—it didn’t fix anything. It didn’t change them. And it didn’t fill you either. The Bhagavad Gita doesn’t ask you to stop caring. But it does ask you to wake up. It teaches a difficult but liberating truth: there is no amount of giving that will satisfy those who don't know how to receive with respect. Some desires are endless by design. You feed them, they grow. You meet one demand, another appears. And slowly, without noticing, you become someone whose worth is tied to how useful, agreeable, or available you are. The Gita is not telling you to become selfish. It’s telling you to stop being self-destructive in the name of goodness.
Some people don’t take what you offer. They take what you are
That’s the danger of unexamined giving. When you mistake self-erasure for selflessness. When you think loyalty means allowing someone to drain you without pause. Krishna tells Arjuna something timeless: Do your duty, without attachment to the outcome. He’s not asking Arjuna to become robotic. He’s asking him to act without the need for validation, applause, or result. To do what is right—not what is liked. That’s the difference between real action and reactive people-pleasing.
You can be kind and still have limits. You can be helpful and still say no. You can love someone and still not carry what they refuse to hold for themselves.
Boundaries aren’t barriers. They’re clarity
The Gita teaches equanimity—a balanced state where you are not swayed by praise or blame. You act from principle, not pressure. That’s what a boundary really is: not a wall, but a way of living where your value doesn’t rise or fall based on someone else’s mood. It’s easy to think that being good means being endlessly available. But here’s the truth: constantly rescuing people from the consequences of their own behavior isn’t noble. It’s enabling.
The Gita teaches that every soul has its own path. You cannot walk theirs for them. You cannot suffer on their behalf and call it love. You can help—but only when your help is asked for, received with gratitude, and not taken as entitlement.
Letting go isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom
There is a kind of strength in stepping back. In saying, “I’ve done my part. The rest is not in my hands.” This is perhaps the most powerful teaching of the Gita: that you are not the controller of outcomes. You are only the doer of your action. And when you act with that clarity, you stop measuring yourself through other people’s satisfaction. You stop bleeding energy into places that never reflect it back.
You stop living as if exhaustion is proof of your goodness. You are allowed to be full—not constantly emptied.
So what do you do when even everything is not enough?
You remember: it’s not your job to be enough for people who never learned to value what you already are. You stop trying to earn what should be freely given—respect, kindness, space. You begin to walk a different way: one that is quiet, firm, rooted in self-awareness. Because what the Gita ultimately teaches isn’t detachment from people—it’s detachment from expectations. When you live that way, you still care. You still give. But you do it without losing yourself.
You stop setting yourself on fire to keep others warm. And maybe, finally, you come home to yourself—unburnt, whole, and free.
Some people don’t take what you offer. They take what you are
Give
( Image credit : Pexels )
That’s the danger of unexamined giving. When you mistake self-erasure for selflessness. When you think loyalty means allowing someone to drain you without pause. Krishna tells Arjuna something timeless: Do your duty, without attachment to the outcome. He’s not asking Arjuna to become robotic. He’s asking him to act without the need for validation, applause, or result. To do what is right—not what is liked. That’s the difference between real action and reactive people-pleasing.
You can be kind and still have limits. You can be helpful and still say no. You can love someone and still not carry what they refuse to hold for themselves.
Boundaries aren’t barriers. They’re clarity
Energy
( Image credit : Pexels )
The Gita teaches equanimity—a balanced state where you are not swayed by praise or blame. You act from principle, not pressure. That’s what a boundary really is: not a wall, but a way of living where your value doesn’t rise or fall based on someone else’s mood. It’s easy to think that being good means being endlessly available. But here’s the truth: constantly rescuing people from the consequences of their own behavior isn’t noble. It’s enabling.
The Gita teaches that every soul has its own path. You cannot walk theirs for them. You cannot suffer on their behalf and call it love. You can help—but only when your help is asked for, received with gratitude, and not taken as entitlement.
Letting go isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom
Release
( Image credit : Pexels )
There is a kind of strength in stepping back. In saying, “I’ve done my part. The rest is not in my hands.” This is perhaps the most powerful teaching of the Gita: that you are not the controller of outcomes. You are only the doer of your action. And when you act with that clarity, you stop measuring yourself through other people’s satisfaction. You stop bleeding energy into places that never reflect it back.
You stop living as if exhaustion is proof of your goodness. You are allowed to be full—not constantly emptied.
So what do you do when even everything is not enough?
Meditate
( Image credit : Pexels )
You remember: it’s not your job to be enough for people who never learned to value what you already are. You stop trying to earn what should be freely given—respect, kindness, space. You begin to walk a different way: one that is quiet, firm, rooted in self-awareness. Because what the Gita ultimately teaches isn’t detachment from people—it’s detachment from expectations. When you live that way, you still care. You still give. But you do it without losing yourself.
You stop setting yourself on fire to keep others warm. And maybe, finally, you come home to yourself—unburnt, whole, and free.