I am too much.
Too aggressive, too opinionated, too driven, too judgmental, too skinny, too curvy, too talented, too sexy, too confident, too insecure, too introspective, too emotional, too dramatic, too competitive, too happy, too sad, too loud, too quiet, too focused, just too damn much.
Or so I’ve been told.
And did you notice that when you read the word too so many times in a row, it seams to lose all meaning in language, ceases to exist? I noticed. And I did, too. Cease to exist, that is. At least the full too-muchness of me did. I disappeared. Dimmed my light so that it didn’t outshine the lights of those around me. Quieted my voice as not to offend. Became ashamed of my beauty to the point where looking in the mirror has become a challenge. Stopped singing and playing the piano. Stopped acting. Stopped sharing my opinions because that little birdy, the one who said – no one wants to hear your opinions – started whispering in my head. Stopped sharing my adventures with family because my excitement to share was perceived as judgment. Until no sooner did I blink, and I was gone. Poof. Into the great big beyond that is being too much until I was simply not enough.
But do you know what I noticed when I was busy becoming too little? I noticed that others didn’t notice the change I’d made in myself. I was still too much of something to someone. Too accommodating, too giving, too much of a worrier. And this new me was a sad shadow of the complex, volatile, loving person that I was. And now, I have become a vat of simmering potential.
I went to a massage therapist and while she was working on the knots in my back, knots that appeared after bending over backwards to appease others, she said, I see all of these tiny pieces of you scattered away from the center of your being. It is as if a mirror has shattered. Call them home. So I did. I imagined all of these dirty little Emily’s, sad and lonely, too far from their center, and I called out to them one by one, all of the attributes that I’d hidden in the dark, and welcomed them home.
Singing (pick that little Emily up, buffer her, make her shiny, and welcome her home), Acting (come home), Judgment (you are allowed your own thoughts and beliefs, so long as you don’t hurt someone else – come home), Opinions (come home, I’ve missed you, I’m so lucky to have you), Emotions (what are we without them? Emotions make us stronger, smarter – come home), Intellect (you can never have too much knowledge, come home), Beauty (you are beautiful inside and out, look in the mirror, love yourself, and come home).
And when I finished welcoming home all of those pieces of myself that had scattered, I wept.
Even re-reading this post makes me wonder – is this too earnest? too cocky? too…much?
No. Writing this is a step. A step to get me back to myself. A step to share myself with others. To be brave enough to do that. This blog will chronicle my aspirations and achievements. I will set goals and hold myself accountable, as I hope you will hold me accountable. I will learn from my mistakes. And from my successes.
I have been told many times by many people that I can’t do everything. That I should pick one thing and stick to it, but that doesn’t work for me.
So…here goes: I am an actress, a singer, a writer, a creative, emotional being. I am strong: strong heart, strong mind, strong body. I am not too much of anything. In fact, I’m only getting started.
Welcome home, Emily.