Generosity!
When I give of myself from a truly authentic place it comes back to me one-thousandfold in ways that I couldn’t have imagined. It never fails.
When I was a little kid, I became a caretaker. Somehow, I picked up the message that I existed to help others. A good thing? A not-so good thing. It’s great when helping others comes with no strings attached. It wasn’t so great when I did it to validate my worth, thinking that if I just did enough––made myself indispensable––I’d be loved. I didn’t know I could be loved just for who I was, and that who I was and who am is enough. I became a people pleaser because making people happy brought me attention, a false sense of security, and a modicum of what I thought of as love.
There was a little girl named Nina in my 1st grade class who was always giving people dollar bills. I thought that was so strange. Why would she do that? What I gleaned as a 6-year-old was that it bought her popularity. She became a model for me. That habit of doing for others, giving to others, not from a place of selfless generosity, but as a cry for connection, became a regular practice in my life. It was a knee-jerk response when I saw something that I thought was needed and wanted. And I thought it was genuine. It felt like it was.
Yes, I started young. No, I didn’t realize that I had an underlying motive. I took great pride in being a good-deed-doer. I did lots of good deeds. An example was raising money for charity. I went door-to-door selling raffle tickets for cerebral palsy because I wanted Mrs. Lingley to adore me. She was our neighbor down the block––my home away from home––she was the person who started me on the path to baby philanthropy, and C.P. was her cause. I would have done anything for her. I didn’t care about her cause as much as I wanted her love and approval. The thing was, she already loved me, and all these years later, she still does.
I didn’t need to do more.
This was the beginning of my codependent behavior. I became a rescuer. I watched for opportunities to be a helper; I was someone people could depend on to come through for them in a crisis.
I carried this tendency throughout my life, doing for people and then suffering the backlash of my actions. I became resentful of the people I helped, because they weren’t loving me “enough” or reciprocating.
As recently as the last decade, I found ways to give that were actually covert manipulations. Helping can be a disguise for a power play. When my dad died, he left me a handsome inheritance, though that’s mostly a story for another time. But I spent a good part of that money on other people to my detriment. I picked up dinner tabs regularly and bought people extravagant gifts. I was a sport. I gave so much away thinking I was helping, but really, not. Because it wasn’t clean. It wasn’t selfless. I wanted something back. I never got what I was looking for and now the money’s gone. In those acts of loaded generosity, I was disempowering others and I wasn’t watching out for myself. I wasn’t thinking of my future, I was that desperate to be loved, to be the center of attention. I wasn’t aware of it at the time. I thought I was being kind. I wanted to be the hero, when in truth I didn’t need to do more than just be a good friend.
I’m telling you this about myself––my history––because of the awakening I’ve had. I’ve changed so dramatically over the last few years. I still believe in generosity. I believe in helping others. It’s one of my core values. But my focus has shifted. I give to give. I check in with myself. Is it clean? No strings? When I released my expectations and started coming from a clearer place of love, things I could never have imagined started flowing back to me. I’ve also learned about healthy boundaries and to make sure my basic needs were being met.
I’m saying all of this today as way of easing into a celebration. Today is my 1-year anniversary on Substack. In this year not only have I proven to myself that I am a writer, I’ve also created a business helping other writers succeed on the platform.
One of the most beautiful things I’ve witnessed during my brief tenure here is that true generosity abounds. I knew it on my first day on Substack, when I went to Notes (the social media-ish part of this platform) and announced my arrival. I was greeted with one warm welcome after another and it hasn’t ceased. The writers I’ve met here have helped me grow as a person, as a colleague, and as a friend. They’ve helped me build my readership. They’ve contributed to my confidence, they’ve boosted me, sharing my writing, and cheering me on. The thing that I love most about Substack is the support I witness and receive every day. Everyone seems to come from their hearts, expecting nothing in return. We’re truly excited for one another. How lovely to witness generosity in action during this strange period where so many seem to just be out for themselves.
I coach my clients on how to grow on Substack. The first thing I tell them is to be generous, to promote other people’s work, to respond to the comments of their readers. To engage and be real. No one is our competition because we are each unique. We have distinct voices. The other thing I suggest is to keep recommending the smaller stacks. The bigger ones, the “stars,” they don’t need our help, not the way those of us with smaller followings need one another.
My enthusiasm is authentic. I sing the praises of Substack every day. Being here, in combination with the work I’ve done in my 12-Step program has been completely transformative. I’m living the life I’ve always dreamed of. And I know, finally, that I am enough, MORE than enough, and I matter and I belong. And that’s the crux, isn’t it?
I belong.
I’ve never really felt that way before. I’m part of something greater than myself here. That’s a brand-new feeling. And all of you, the people who read my stories and comment so generously, the writers whom I’ve become friends with this year, who I LOVE to read––you’ve been a major force for me. I’ve seen what’s possible when people come together and lift each other up. That’s the work. The love. The relationships. The community. We’re building it together. We’re making miracles here.
I’m so proud and so happy to be a citizen of Substackland. It’s a magical place to reside.
Thank you for the best year of my life.
Okay, if this were an Oscar acceptance speech, I’d be booted off the stage for going on too long, but I see no other way to do this.
Today, as a way to celebrate, I want to share a list of some of the people who’ve given me so much this year. I’m so worried that I’m going to omit someone by accident. If I do, please forgive me. If you think you should be here, then I agree. Let me know and I’ll happily and gratefully add you. There are so many of you––my beautiful new friends. You have no idea how deeply you touch my heart. A thousand thanks to all of you.
To the readers: All of you. Thank you for your vulnerable and kind comments, your encouragement and your all-around support whether you are a free or paid subscriber. I cherish your interest in what I have to say. It’s the best gift ever.
To the writers: For inspiring me every single day. You make my life rich with your wisdom, humor, and over-the-top support. If you’re not familar with their work, take a read. You won’t be sorry.
To the builders, who also write: For gathering and supporting our work, encouraging us in oh, so many ways. And for sharing your inspiring thoughts and deeds. I couldn’t do this without you.
AND I am launching my podcast, The Next Write Thing: Real Life Stories by Nan Tepper this week. Substack, Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and others, here I come!
In honor of this anniversary and as way to extend my thanks a little further, for the next week, I’m offering annual memberships for $25, that’s a 50% savings. If you’ve been thinking of upgrading to paid, here’s a chance to do it at a great rate!
AND….I’ll be teaching a 5 Week Zoom Master Class in May all about the ins and outs of publishing on Substack: So, You Want to Write on Substack But You Don’t Know Where to Start? Find out more here.
How beautiful to see you and to know this moment of growth inside and out. Lately, I've been reading this poem to groups and clients and anyone who will listen :-) and given your spirit of generosity, I give it to you:
When Giving Is All We Have
Alberto Ríos
1952 –
One river gives
Its journey to the next.
We give because someone gave to us.
We give because nobody gave to us.
We give because giving has changed us.
We give because giving could have changed us.
We have been better for it,
We have been wounded by it—
Giving has many faces: It is loud and quiet,
Big, though small, diamond in wood-nails.
Its story is old, the plot worn and the pages too,
But we read this book, anyway, over and again:
Giving is, first and every time, hand to hand,
Mine to yours, yours to mine.
You gave me blue and I gave you yellow.
Together we are simple green. You gave me
What you did not have, and I gave you
What I had to give—together, we made
Something greater from the difference.
I always love to see you pop up in my inbox, Nan, and have the chance to hear your voice coming over the airwaves, and today’s post came with a little extra warm-and-fuzzy. 💖 Thank you so much for the mention, for your wonderful writing, for your refreshing enthusiasm, and for being part of the generous community that makes Substack such a special place to be. Happy, happy anniversary!! Here’s to many more in the years ahead. Oh! And congrats on the podcast - excited to listen!