Maybe I'm Not Too Much

What if I've just spent my life trying to fit into spaces that were too small for me?

Isn't it funny how one simple comment can crack open a wound you've spent years trying to heal?

Recently, someone said something to me that probably wasn't intended to be hurtful, but the wound was already there, and this simply reopened it. They mentioned that I update them all the time and that they struggle to keep up.

On the surface, it was a harmless observation.

But for me?

It hit a nerve.

Because underneath that comment was a story I've been carrying my entire life:

"I'm too much."

Too emotional.

Too needy.

Too sensitive.

Too talkative.

Too intense.

Too excited.

Too passionate.

Just Too Much.

The thing is, when you live alone, your friendships often become your support system.

I don't come home to a partner every night.

I don't have kids running around the house.

I don't have someone sitting across from me at dinner asking how my day was.

Most days, it's just me.

And that's okay.

I've built a beautiful life for myself. I'm proud of my independence.

But being independent doesn't mean I don't need connection.

It doesn't mean I don't want someone to share my wins with.

Or my frustrations.

Or the funny thing one of my cats did.

Or the random thought that popped into my head at 2 PM.

That's what I thought friendship was.

Sharing life.

The good, the bad, the boring, and everything in between.

So when I heard that comment, it immediately triggered something much deeper than the actual words.

Because if I'm being honest, this isn't the first time I've felt like I'm too much.

I've felt it in friendships.

I've felt it in relationships.

I've felt it in family dynamics.

I've felt it in rooms where I was told to quiet down, calm down, stop caring so much, stop feeling so much.

And after hearing those messages enough times, you start to believe them.

You start editing yourself.

Holding back.

Thinking twice before sending the text.

Wondering if you're annoying people.

Wondering if they secretly wish you'd stop talking.

Wondering if you're taking up too much space. Wondering if people even like you, which then leads to the thoughts that no one likes you and everyone tolerates you.

But lately, I've been questioning something.

What if I'm not actually too much?

What if I've been giving my full heart to people who simply had different capacities than I did?

What if my enthusiasm isn't a flaw?

What if my vulnerability isn't a burden?

What if my desire for connection is actually one of my greatest strengths?

The older I get, the more I realize that healthy relationships don't require you to become smaller.

The right people don't make you feel like a burden for existing.

They don't make you feel guilty for sharing your life.

They don't make you question your worth every time you open your mouth.

They simply communicate their boundaries with kindness.

And you communicate yours.

That's what a healthy connection looks like.

Not shrinking.

Not apologizing for your existence.

Not convincing yourself you're too much.

Maybe the lesson isn't learning how to take up less space.

Maybe the lesson is learning that you deserve relationships where you're allowed to take up space at all.

I'm still working on that.

I'm still healing that wound.

I'm still catching myself when that old voice whispers, "You're too much."

But today, I'm choosing a different response.

Maybe I'm not too much.

Maybe I've just spent too many years around people who couldn't hold what I had to give.

And those are two very different things. For the first time in a very long time, I'm starting to believe the problem was never that I was too much. Maybe I was simply trying to fit myself into spaces that were too small.