Are You a Drain or a Radiator?

There are two kinds of people in this world—those who pull life out of a room, and those who pour life back into it.

Some people walk in and everything feels lighter. Your shoulders fall, your breath steadies, and the world—no matter how tangled—feels a little easier to navigate. These are the radiators. They warm the air just by being in it. They don’t always say much, and they don’t have to; their presence alone has a kind of emotional gravity that grounds you. You leave them feeling fuller, steadier, a little more connected to yourself.

And then there are the others. The drains. The ones who leave you emptier than they found you—sometimes subtly, sometimes catastrophically. The ones who say they care but never listen, or who only listen to respond. The ones who make everything about themselves without ever realizing how much space they occupy or how much emotional oxygen they consume. The ones who pull your energy, your confidence, your joy, your time, your sense of peace—drop by drop—until you’re sitting there wondering why you feel so tired after what should have been a simple conversation.

We don’t talk about this enough.

We don’t talk enough about the cost of people, and how every connection—every friendship, every partnership, every relationship—either nourishes our spirit or quietly hollows it out.

“Drain” and “radiator” are not insults or accolades; they are truths of energy. They are reflections of how we show up in each other’s lives. And whether we realize it or not, every day, we are choosing which one we’re becoming.

Recently, I've been gaining some incredible wisdom from a "ninety something" year old man about life. While reading his book, The View from 90, Charles Handy puts a small but striking question in his book: Are we as people drains or radiators?

He describes people not by their titles or achievements, but by their energy—calling them either “radiators” or “drains.” It wasn’t meant as judgment, but as observation: a way to reflect on the emotional footprints people leave behind. That single idea stopped me in my tracks. It made me think—deeply—about the relationships in my own life, and about the kind of presence I offer others. Who brings warmth into my world? Who quietly siphons it away? And just as importantly, who am I to the people I love?

Naturally, I had to do some reflection and research of my own on this, which in turn sparked this entire blog post.

What Makes Someone a Drain?

A drain isn’t always loud or dramatic. Often, drains are disguised as the people we care about most, the ones we feel obligated to keep close, even when it hurts. They can be kind, but inconsistent. Present, but not supportive. Familiar, but not safe.

A drain is someone who:

• Leaves you feeling smaller after interacting with them

• Needs more than they offer, emotionally or energetically

• Makes you question your worth, your perspective, or your boundaries

• Turns your vulnerability into discomfort

• Is stuck in patterns that force you to carry the emotional load for both of you

• Takes your time, attention, compassion, and energy without replenishing what they take

A drain doesn’t need to be cruel to be harmful. Sometimes it’s simply someone who hasn’t learned how to carry the weight of their own life, so they hand the heaviest pieces to you. And love alone cannot fix that.

What Makes Someone a Radiator?

Radiators, on the other hand, aren’t perfect and don’t pretend to be. They’re real. Solid. Present in a way that makes you feel like your existence is not just tolerated, but valued.

A radiator is someone who:

• Makes you feel seen without having to perform

• Listens without turning your pain into their spotlight

• Leaves you with more hope, clarity, or calm than you had before

• Takes responsibility for their impact

• Encourages you to grow without controlling your growth

• Creates warmth in the spaces they enter simply by being their authentic self

Radiators remind you who you are. They remind you that connection can be safe. That not every relationship asks you to shrink. That some people actually add to the world instead of subtracting from it.

But Here’s the Hard Truth…

We are all capable of being both.

We have days when we radiate strength, compassion, stability, and grace. And we have days—dark days, heavy days—when we drain the people around us because we are tired, hurting, confused, or lost inside ourselves.

Being a drain sometimes does not make you a bad person.

It makes you human.

But being a consistent drain—unaware, uninterested, or unwilling to grow—is a choice. And it forces the people around you to make choices too.

Your presence is either healing the people who care about you or slowly wearing them down. And pretending it doesn’t matter doesn’t make it less true.

Where Do You Fall?

This is the question we rarely ask ourselves—not honestly.

It is easy to label others.

Harder to evaluate our own impact.

So here are the questions that matter:

• Do people feel more or less themselves around you?

• When someone shares their heart, do you hold it with care—or redirect the attention back to your own?

• When someone leaves a conversation with you, do they feel lifted or do they feel like they’ve just run an emotional marathon?

• Are you adding warmth to your connections or pulling it out of them?

• Are you present when people need you—or only when it suits you?

• Do you lift the energy in a space or quietly deplete it?

Your answers—honest answers—will tell you everything.

Being a radiator is not about being cheerful or “positive vibes only.” That’s not warmth; that’s performance. Real radiators bring comfort, truth, accountability, emotional steadiness, and empathy. They are reliable witnesses to the lives of the people they love.

Being a radiator is choosing to be emotionally responsible.

Being a drain is choosing not to be.

The Uncomfortable Liberation of Naming It

There comes a moment in every adult life when you finally allow yourself to categorize people not by how long you’ve known them, but by the effect they have on your soul.

Some will not like this version of you.

The one who pays attention.

The one who protects their peace.

The one who is no longer willing to carry relationships that keep collapsing in their hands.

But there is freedom in honesty.

When you finally admit that someone is exhausting you, you stop blaming yourself for feeling exhausted.

When you finally admit that someone adds value to your life, you start nurturing that connection like it deserves to be nurtured.

You are allowed to choose warmth.

You are allowed to choose people who feed your spirit, not starve it.

You are allowed to detach from those who drain you, even if they swear they don’t mean to.

And for yourself—you are allowed to evolve.

Becoming the Radiator

You don’t have to be perfect to be a source of warmth in someone’s life. You just have to be:

• Self-aware

• Emotionally accountable

• Open to growth

• Willing to repair when you mess up

• Kind without being performative

• Present without being overpowering

• Responsible for your own energy

Radiators aren’t born—they’re made. Built through reflection, humility, experience, heartbreak, healing, and the brave decision to show up as someone whose presence brings light instead of noise.

And So I Ask You…

Are you a drain?

Are you a radiator?

Or are you finally becoming honest enough with yourself to see the parts of you that are both?

Your answer matters, not because of the label you choose, but because of the life you choose to build from this moment forward.

The goal is simple:

Leave people better than you found them—even if the only person you’re leaving better today is yourself.

"Some people empty us. Some people elevate us. The wisdom is knowing the difference." - Gia Laurent