You give so much — and wonder why people stop noticing

You are the one who notices when everyone is tired. You order for the table before anyone has to ask. You send the message no one remembered to send, bring the thing no one thought to bring, check in on the friend who has been too quiet. You don't think twice about it — it isn't strategy, it isn't effort, it's just how you're built. Giving, to you, feels less like a choice and more like breathing. Until the day you notice it stopped coming back. The people you've poured into — they don't even register it anymore. They expect it. They take it. And when you finally, quietly, run dry, they don't seem to notice that either. It stings in a way you can't quite name, and you tell yourself you don't need it back. But you do. Shishen (食神) is the energy of nourishment — food, care, comfort, generosity. It is, genuinely, the warmest thing in the chart. But here is what no one tells you about it: unreciprocated generosity doesn't stay generous. It quietly turns into resentment, and resentment turns a natural giver into a reluctant one. The reframe: your giving is so effortless that the people around you have started treating it as the default — like gravity, like air. They're not ungrateful; they've just never had to imagine their life without it. So make them imagine. Pull back. Say no once in a while. Let the table go unset for a night and see who notices. The people who love you will ask what's wrong. The people who were only ever taking will drift away — and that's not a loss, it's a filter. You were never meant to be everyone's caretaker. Set the table for the ones who'd set it for you. Then sit down.