When Your Body Becomes the Giving Tree:

The Hidden Cost of Borrowing From Your Future Self

In Shel Silverstein’s classic The Giving Tree, a boy returns again and again to a tree that loves him without condition. Each time he comes back, he asks for more—apples, branches, the trunk—until the tree is reduced to a stump. The story has sparked decades of debate about generosity, boundaries, and the quiet tragedy of giving until there is nothing left.

But lately, when reading this book to my children it has taken on a new metaphorical weight. Because many of us are living exactly like that boy—except the tree we’re taking from is our own future self.

The Body as the Tree

Every shortcut we take with our health is a withdrawal from tomorrow’s energy account.  

Late nights, skipped meals, stress-eating, ignoring movement, pushing through burnout—these choices feel small in the moment. They even feel productive. After all, you’re getting more done today.

But like the boy plucking apples without planting new seeds, you’re borrowing vitality from a version of yourself who hasn’t arrived yet.

And that future self will have to pay the bill.

The Illusion of “Free” Energy

Poor health habits often masquerade as harmless conveniences:

  • Caffeine instead of sleep or meditation
  • Fast food or nicotine instead of nourishment
  • Scrolling instead of resting or exercising
  • Overworking instead of pacing

 

Each one gives you a quick boost—like the tree offering another branch—but the cost is cumulative. You don’t feel the debt immediately. That’s what makes it so tempting.

But eventually, the energy you borrowed comes due in the form of:

  • chronic fatigue
  • inflammation
  • mood instability
  • reduced focus
  • weakened immunity
  • burnout
  • And even further down the line, low muscle mass, pain, decreased mobility and dementia in your golden years

 

Your future self becomes the stump—still trying to support you, but with far fewer resources left.

The Stump Moment

In The Giving Tree, the boy doesn’t realize what he’s taken until the end. Many people have a similar “stump moment”: a doctor’s warning, a health scare, a sudden crash in energy, or simply waking up one day and realizing you’ve been running on fumes for years.

It’s not a moral failing. It’s a human pattern.

But it’s also a turning point.

Planting New Seeds

The beauty of real life—unlike the book—is that your “tree” can grow back. Bodies are astonishingly resilient when given even small acts of care:

  • a consistent bedtime and wake time with true daylight exposure
  • a 10‑minute walk after a meal
  • a glass of water prior to caffeine
  • a real meal with protein and whole foods
  • a moment of stillness or even time out in nature
  • a boundary that protects your time

 

These aren’t grand gestures or selfish choices. They’re seeds… which grow!

You don’t have to overhaul your life. You just have to stop borrowing from tomorrow long enough to give today a chance to replenish.

A New Ending to the Story

Imagine if the boy had learned to give back—watering the roots, tending the soil, planting new saplings. The tree would still have given, but it wouldn’t have had to disappear in the process.

Your body deserves that same reciprocity.

You deserve a story where you don’t end up as the stump—where you grow, rest, and rebuild instead of depleting yourself for short-term gains.

And your future self will thank you for it.