Is Deep Care and Love Dead?

Deep love and care in this modern world can often feel dead. This was the conclusion I was rapidly reaching, and I desperately needed a few reasons to disprove it—searching for an oasis in the desert of my own exhaustion.

This realization hit me while reading Stop Letting Everything Affect You. I won't list every practical remedy the book offers, but I will share how deeply its message resonated with my life. I was in desperate need of an escape from caring too much, and I connected with the author's words from the very first introduction. While reading, I realized how much I care about things I shouldn't, and how much weight I carry for people who do not care at all. It was dragging me down. I have always felt that I give endlessly to people, but when I am in need, there is rarely anything to receive in return. This cycle used to bring me so much pain that I would spend hours writing poems or journaling just to convince myself to let them go. Yet, my "bad habit" of caring would eventually take over, I would overextend myself again, and the cycle of suffering would repeat. I wanted to end this loop immediately and learn to live without letting everything affect me.

The Problem with Feeling Everything Deeply

I connect with the world on a deeper level. If I make a promise, I will do my absolute best to fulfill it. I notice the smallest details in a busy life, appreciate the tiny steps of progress, and bypass shallow small talk to connect with people meaningfully. Because of this, people feel safe talking to me about their vulnerabilities and perspectives. This trait has brought beautiful opportunities into my life—profound connections with professors and friends who trust me with their deepest secrets.

However, it is also incredibly exhausting. Giving too much care to someone who cannot offer anything in return, or who won't even try to understand what I am going through, drains my spirit. The real obstacle with this depth of feeling is that I cannot simply turn it off. No matter how tired I am, if I see something wrong, I cannot look away. The other day at the office, I saw a coworker resting her head on her desk. I immediately messaged her to ask if she was okay. She later told me I was a very nice person, but I didn't reach out to hear a compliment; I reached out because I genuinely felt the need to help.

I truly believe humanity is the greatest religion, and I want to be someone who offers help. But it gets harder when empathy crosses the line into self-sacrifice. Caring is supposed to create meaningful relationships, but not all caring leads to fulfillment. Some of it just leaves you empty and unappreciated.

Because I don't want to hurt people, I struggle to say "no." Even when I feel broke, stressed, or exhausted, guilt traps me into saying "yes." There are people who are genuinely grateful, but there are many who take my sacrifices for granted. This is the biggest downside of caring too much: it makes you vulnerable to being taken advantage of. When people see that you always show up, they stop appreciating it and start expecting it. They begin to believe you will be there regardless of how much disrespect they show you.

For instance, I once went out of my way—sometimes driving to Walmart two or three times a day—to help some juniors who had recently arrived. I remembered how my seniors helped me when I was a freshman, so I dropped my own work to assist them with groceries and number of errands. I have helped not only those incoming students but other people from Nepal too, who would not have necessarily needed the help as much as the incoming freshman. But they started asking for favors to drive them miles away for trivial things. When I finally said I was busy, they still expected me to accommodate them, simply because I had always been polite. This is where the cost of caring becomes too heavy. I have a job. I have a thousand problems of my own. Yet, there I was, carrying the emotional weight of everyone else while struggling to hold myself together.

The Cognitive Load of Over-Caring

Psychologist John Sweller’s Cognitive Load Theory (1998) explains that our brains have a limited capacity for processing information at any given moment. When too much stress or decision-making competes for mental space, the brain struggles to function efficiently. This becomes incredibly hard to manage when you need to focus at your job, yet you find yourself drained by minor daily stresses or the endless expectations of others. Stressing over things that shouldn't matter drains the energy you need for your actual life. This dynamic is exactly why going to the gym has become a mandatory habit for me; physical exercise is the only way I can rejuvenate myself from the constant stress of carrying other people's emotional weight.

Our minds are powerful, but they can also trick us. We convince ourselves that if we think about a problem long enough, we will gain control over it. This is where the anxiety loop begins. Our brains are wired with a "negative bias"—an evolutionary survival mechanism that makes us focus on threats and negative experiences far more than positive ones. One of the cruelest tricks our brain plays is convincing us that replaying a painful memory, or obsessing over the good moments of a broken relationship, will somehow change what happened.

This is why people chase unavailable partners or stay in toxic cycles; it is the only dynamic they know. Psychological studies (like those by Susan Nolen-Hoeksema) show that the more you replay past pain, the harder it becomes to break free from it. Instead of processing emotions, overthinking deepens the suffering. If we believe we are not enough, our minds will endlessly replay the moments we were overlooked, completely ignoring the moments we were valued.

Breaking the Illusion of Control

One of the most powerful concepts in the book is looking at life through a cosmic perspective. Our lives are vast. We are destined to meet new people, travel to new places, and have unique experiences. The universe is unfathomably large, filled with countless stars and planets, and human life is less than a speck of dust in comparison. Yet, here we are, stressing over someone who ignored our text. When you step back, it feels absurd. Our time on this planet is strictly limited. Worrying about someone who doesn't care is a tragic waste of time when we could be walking in nature, exploring new cities, or building memorable lives.

Most of our mental pain stems from the broken illusion of control. Our minds crave certainty. When life doesn't go as planned, our brains perceive it as a threat. I know that expectation is the root of unhappiness, and while it's hard to live like a saint who expects nothing, I've had to learn this the hard way. A sense of control gives us peace—we feel valued when someone texts back immediately. When they don't, especially when we've treated them with immense care, it hurts. I used to help a friend with his online classes and exams, but when I needed him, he would leave my messages on read for months, despite always being on his phone. It hurt deeply at first, but eventually, I had to accept that I cannot control how others behave. If we focus only on what we can control and release what we cannot, life becomes infinitely easier.

Rejection and the "Redirection Protocol"

Rejection feels so painful because it activates the same neural pathways in the brain as physical pain. The lack of control we feel during rejection often leads us to seek power through overthinking, self-sabotage, or trying to "fix" the broken link. Studies show that imagining revenge against someone who rejected you triggers a dopamine boost, but it is a hollow, temporary solution. Seeking revenge or external validation keeps you emotionally tied to the very thing that hurt you. As the author notes, you cannot put a crown on a clown and call them a king.

When someone mistreats you or leaves, it is a reflection of them, not you. It took me a long time to understand this because I was always looking inward, wondering what I did wrong. The truth is, you don't know the full extent of their upbringing, their hidden problems, or their past experiences. Their choices are shaped by what they consciously believe they need, and someone else’s choice has absolutely nothing to do with your worth.

A friend once told me I needed to change my nature. He claimed women don't appreciate a good heart and suggested I should be cold, rough, and distant, mimicking the toxic patterns popularized on the internet. I just smiled. I don't know if that strategy works, but I know I cannot do it. My heart will not allow me to be a cold person. I cannot ignore just to make them feel how I felt and doing so might entirely change me or atleast create a fake hoax over who I actually. Why should I punish someone new just because someone in my past didn't treat me properly? Everyone deserves love and care. The moon may look like a crescent on some nights, but it is always whole. I believe that everything good you put into the world comes back multiplied. You should never regret having a good heart; you just have to recognize when someone isn't ready to receive your kindness, and learn to let them go.

The Cost of Deep Care

You cannot expect people to be there for you just because you were always there for them. Not everyone has your heart. I am still struggling to fully accept this. Recently, a friend desperately needed financial help. It wasn't my problem, but I gave him what I could and even reached out to others to help him. Will he remember it when I need help? I don't know. I didn't do it to buy a future favor, but it hurts to realize how rare gratitude is in this busy world. Whenever I feel low, I often find that the people I helped are nowhere to be found.

I know life is hard and people are busy, but we have forgotten to be grateful. I am trying to hold myself to a higher standard here. There were so many people who helped me reach where I am today—my beloved professors and senior dais. I sometimes feel I haven't been grateful enough, so I make an effort to message them. They expect nothing in return, but a few kind words go a long way. I expect that same basic kindness from the people I help, and its absence is what hurts the most.

Months ago, I met someone who gave me the energy to live life to the fullest. Because of them, I picked up beautiful habits that I had nearly abandoned: learning Spanish, running, journaling, critical thinking, and cooking. I felt a profound connection, and I poured my knowledge into helping them, building applications, and supporting their journey. But nothing good exists forever.

When you believe someone will be there for life and they suddenly vanish, it breaks you violently. In physics, there is a concept called the elastic limit—the maximum extent a material can be stretched before it suffers permanent plastic deformation. Perhaps the human heart works this way, too. When you break past a certain point, the cost is the temporary inability to love anyone at all.

Life is like sand in your palm; the tighter you hold it, the faster it slips away. The more I tried to talk, the more I tried to show up, the worse it got. The best response was silence. I had to pour all that desperate energy into the broken pieces of my own heart. For a long time, nothing helped. My job felt like suffering, tears I hadn't shed in years finally fell for the same words I had written, and my deep love felt like a sin I was condemned to carry around.

But I couldn't live like that. The cost of this emotional pain eventually brought unseen advantages. I started doing things alone. I learned about myself. I left behind temporary pleasures and started appreciating the small things. I initiated what I call the Redirection Protocol. For three weeks and still going, I quit social media to regain control over my mind. I was never someone who needed broad external validation, but I had developed a habit of seeking validation from that specific person. When they left, the silence was deafening. By leaving social media, I broke that validation loop. I still worked on my goals, cooked my meals, ran my first 5K in the professional setting, and traveled, but I did it purely for myself, in silence. I shared my victories only with my dearest brother and closest friend who have been supporting me all along in this journey. That is what true peace feels like.

I Did It All

I refuse to remain broken just because things fell apart. One of my guiding principles right now comes from the song I Lived by OneRepublic. The music video features a boy with cystic fibrosis who knows his time is limited, so he does everything he can to make his life extraordinary. My time in this world is limited too. I won't be in my twenties forever.

Hope you fall in love And it hurts so bad The only way you know You give it all you have And I hope you don't suffer But take the pain Hope when the moment comes you'll say I did it all

This heartbreak was just a part of my life to experience, and I did it all. I gave everything I could. I never gave that person pain, I never blamed them, and I kept all the heartbreak to myself. I accept that it was meant to happen and I was lingering in the past and I was the one who could not let them go when they suddenly started creating a boundary. I used to think God sent them to me to be with me forever, but now I believe they were sent to make me a better person—to stretch my capacity to endure pain, to force me to move forward, and to teach me how to finally take care of myself.

Nikola Tesla allegedly once said, "All these years I have spent in the service of mankind brought me nothing but insults and humiliation." While I am nowhere near Tesla's brilliance, I resonate with the feeling of pouring your soul out for others and receiving emptiness in return.

But despite everything, I still believe in humanity. I am sure there are people who feel as deeply as I do. I should not become cold, but I must create distance. As the book suggests, I need to stop giving my time and emotional energy to people who only drain it. I need to save that energy so that, eventually, when I find the people who actually deserve my love, care, and support, I have something left to give. The book provides a great example and way to finally escape this difficult situations and it took me almost 2 months to process what was happening and what should i do to claim my energy back and still I am not completely prone to be away from but it part of it is learning and I think I have learned a good lesson.

Deep love and care in this modern world is not dead. We just haven't found the right people to share it with yet.