"If you always feel like you are too much or too little, maybe add yourself to the wrong recipe." ~ Sophia Joan Short

It is an art to downsize.

As a young girl, I was painfully serious. I hadn't learned the craft of nonchalance, which was as important to be liked as branded clothing and livestrong bracelets. One day when I was rattling home excitedly on the school bus, my seatmate scolded me: “Hailey. Calm down. You are so annoying. "

So I learned that my enthusiasm made me unlikely.

At home, short temperament led to angry arguments. After conflict, my father withdrew his love in a stormy, silent treatment – until I cleared the air – or until we both agreed to pretend nothing had ever happened. I learned the art of walking on eggshells. When I was fifteen, father and I got into an argument and didn't talk to each other for days. We orbit like silent planets in a lonely solar system.

I learned that my anger made me incorrigible.

Years later, my first adult relationship began to break up. I felt the pain of our withered love very strongly. My partner at the time withdrew with every argument, every tear, every dissonance. The more I tried to repair our broken love, the farther he became.

I learned that my needs would displace the people I loved most.

Where did you find out that you were too much?

Were you bullied at school? Abused at home?

Did your caregivers say you were too loud, too energetic, too difficult? Did they neglect your interests, deny your feelings, or punish your anger?

Did your lovers withdraw their affection when you expressed your true feelings? Did you resist your trauma? Did they keep you at a distance?

These experiences leave a clear mantra:

I am too much.
I am too much.
I am too much.

But you are not. Here's why.

The Beauty of "Too Much"

Those of us who give us permission to feel deep give us the gift of fully participating in this world.

We accept the wide range of emotions that life demands. We experience the valleys of loss, the black pain of grief and the jagged edges of the trauma. We also experience the scorching catharsis of inspiration, the rich colors of joy and the deep, calm ocean of love.

Because we feel so rich, our hearts are calm havens where the pain of others can take refuge. We are empathetic and expansive and when we say "I hear you, I was there", we are really serious.

We do the hard work of living, feeling every day. We have built a powerful infrastructure to empathize, connect and relate to. This gives us the profound ability to connect with others – others who are able to meet there.

It's not about you

Every time someone suggests that you are "too much", you are expressing your own limitations.

Emotional intensity frightens those who have never learned to access their own emotions. If you do not know how to feel your own pain, grief or joy, you will not be able to handle it with others.

What they say is:

"You are too dramatic."
"Do we always have to talk about our feelings?"
"Everything is fine. Why are you so sad?"
"I can not do this."

What they really say is:

"I'm afraid of your pain because I don't allow myself to feel my own."
"I'm afraid of your vulnerability because I never learned how to be vulnerable."
"I don't have the tools to deal with conflict, so I'll avoid it."
"I'm afraid to fail because I don't know how to take care of you."

These people built and fortified walls for a lifetime to keep out intense emotions. They may have learned this as a coping skill. They may have been taught by their supervisors. As a result, they can push you away, withdraw, withdraw, shame, criticize, or accuse you – all to keep their walls intact.

Their judgments are a reflection of their own limits, not a reflection of you. This doesn't justify the way they shamed you, but it can help you feel sorry for the fearful way in which they lived.

In addition to this compassion, you also have a choice.

Are you going to retreat to fit behind their suffocating walls?

Or will you be looking for relationships with people who recognize your ability to feel largely ugly – ugly screams and happiness and everything?

A gateway to wholeness

Despite my many efforts to become invisible, there was a woman in me who had to tell wild truths, whose heart felt a crushing pain and wild joy in equal measure. Suppressing myself was like trying to escape the morning sun.

I wanted to be seen in its entirety, but I was afraid to be left as I had been before. I had to learn – not through affirmations and visions, but through acting and supportive relationships with others – that I could be loved for what I was.

And so I started practicing. I noticed which friends were listening when I spoke. I noticed who confirmed my feelings and who glossed them over on the way to their own stories. I noticed who welcomed me with open arms, even if I felt blue, tired or fearful.

Romantically, I was looking for partners who recognized my needs instead of mocking them. Words like "dramatic" and "hysterical" became red flags that I paid attention to without exception.

I was looking for partners who knew exactly what they felt about me – and who met my desire for verbal statements, physical contact and time together. I still remember the shock when I realized that there were lovers who wanted more time with me, more intimacy, more depth instead of less.

Over time, my relationships became safe containers in which I practiced holism. Traits that I had forgotten, such as humor, self-confidence, and expertise, flourished in these new, safe ecosystems.

Now that I have had the freedom to accept others, I am no longer interested in maintaining relationships with people who would consider me "too much". They are not your people. "

Learning to embrace my wholeness is a daily practice. Some days are more difficult than others.

When I am scared and want to ask my partner for comfort, a growling voice sometimes whispers that he will leave me.

When I talk extensively about a new venture, I sometimes fear that I am boring my audience.

When I speak out about abuses in my relationships, I shout at the prospect that the recipient could raise her hands and declare me "too much work".

Every time I feel these fears and still act, I honor my inner self. I teach myself slowly, hardworking and patiently that I am worth expressing and loving. It gets a little easier every day.

About Hailey Magee

Hailey Magee is a certified life coach who helps individuals overcome the people-friendly pattern, set strengthened boundaries, and master the art of telling the truth. Sign up for a free 30-minute consultation to learn how coaching can help you live from a place of strength, authenticity, and inner peace. You can follow Hailey on Facebook and Instagram or visit her website, www.haileymagee.com.

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