My whole life it seems like I have been told I was too much.
When I was in grade school, I was too rambunctious.  I enjoyed recess, lunch, and even gym class when I could talk, and not have to sit still.  Classes like math, reading, and science did not always appeal to me to me.  They required a level of stillness I did not seem to possess.
In my teens, I was too opinionated.  I was told that the ideas that I had would be better placed when I was older.
As a mom, I have been told that I was too strict with my children when they were young.
As they have grown, I have been told that I am too relaxed with them.
Through heartbreaks, I have been told that I am too emotional.
Like most women who cannot seem to say the right thing, I have been told that I am too much for the majority of my life.
I have been told that I am too opinionated by people who disagree with what I have to say.
I have been told that I am too strong willed by people who felt that I should step aside and follow all of their directions without question.
I have been told that I am too defiant, though I am a natural born rule follower.
I have been accused of being too loud, too rough, too harsh.
I am too much.
For a time I bought into this line of reasoning.  I spent time trying to lessen myself.
I hid my thoughts.  I shied away from my opinions.  I spent years pretending to be interested in things that I was not.  I spent that same number of years pretending that I was not interested in things that I was.
I tried so hard, for so very long to be just enough.
Somewhere along the way, I actually forgot who I was.  I remember being asked what I was interested in, and I could not think of a single thing.
I could list the things my children liked, the activities that I participated in for them but I had no interests of my own.
I was empty.  I was hollow.  I was no longer enough.
Through a series of very painful events that drastically changed my life into something new, I began to find myself.
I found hobbies.  I developed interests.  I rediscovered things that I used to enjoy.
Somewhere along the way, I found my voice.  I started to feel like myself again.
Until the day that I was once again told that I was too much.
I was once again informed that I was too opinionated and that maybe I should tone it down.
This time it was on a date, and I chose to ignore the person saying it.
I was told that I was too bitchy by a friend of mine. That I should dial down my opinions and soften my edges.
Around the time that I met my fiance, I began to wonder if there were any outside of my family who would not find me “too much.”
The amazing thing about life is when you find that person.
Though I am fine on my own, I am happy to have someone on life’s journey with me.
The day that my friend commented on my “bitchiness,” I asked my fiance if he felt that I was too rough.
The answer that was music to my previously wounded heart, “What he sees as bitchiness, I see as strength. Don’t change.”
I have since gone on to continue to allow my too much personality to stand on its own.
I no longer seek the approval of those who do not understand. Those who feel the need for me to be less, so they feel like more no longer hold stock in my decisions.
Life for those of us who are too much is not easy.
Once we find those who see us as just right, be it, friends or partners, it does get better.