That Feeling
You know that moment when you’re mid-sentence, fully animated, hands gesturing wildly as you tell a story—and you catch yourself? That split-second where you suddenly see yourself from the outside and think, Oh god, I’m being too much. Your voice gets a little quieter. Your hands drop. You wrap up the story quickly with a “anyway, never mind, it’s not that interesting.”
I see you doing it. I do it too.
Maybe for you it’s not in conversation. Maybe it’s when you get excited about a project and immediately think, Who am I to think I could do this? Or when you want to set a boundary but worry, If I ask for what I need, I’ll be too demanding.
There’s this whisper that follows so many of us around. It says: You’re too much. Too loud. Too sensitive. Too ambitious. Too needy. Too intense.
And we spend years—decades, even—trying to be less.
The Whisper (What the World Told Us)
Somewhere along the way, someone told you that taking up space was a problem.
Maybe it was subtle—a teacher who said you were “chatty” when you were just enthusiastic. A parent who needed you to be quieter because they were overwhelmed. A friend who called you “dramatic” when you felt things deeply. A partner who said you were “too much work” when you asked for love the way you needed it.
Or maybe it wasn’t one person. Maybe it was a thousand tiny moments where the world seemed to reward shrinking. Where being agreeable got you approval. Where making yourself smaller felt safer. Like you were a houseplant that kept getting moved to darker corners, and eventually you just… adapted. Stopped reaching for the light. Decided you were probably a low-light variety anyway.
For parents especially, this gets complicated. We’re told to be everything—present but not hovering, nurturing but not smothering, available but not martyring ourselves. We learn to pour ourselves out for everyone else until we’re not sure there’s anything left that’s just… us.
The whisper becomes a habit. A way of moving through the world. Be less. Need less. Want less.
The Truth (Here’s What’s Actually True)
But here’s the thing: You were never too much. The spaces you were in were too small.
Think about it like this: If you put a goldfish in a bowl, it stays small. Put that same goldfish in a pond, and suddenly it’s not “too big for its environment”—the environment was just too small for the fish. You’re not the problem. The bowl is.
Research on authenticity and psychological well-being consistently shows that people who suppress their true selves experience higher rates of anxiety, depression, and burnout. Dr. Kristin Neff’s work on self-compassion demonstrates that accepting ourselves—all of ourselves, including the parts we’ve been told are “too much”—is directly linked to greater life satisfaction and resilience.
When we constantly edit ourselves, we’re not just dimming our personality. We’re actually creating internal conflict. Psychologists call this “self-concept incongruence”—the exhausting gap between who we are and who we’re pretending to be. It’s like running two operating systems on one computer. Eventually, something crashes.
And children? They’re watching. Studies on parental modeling show that kids learn emotional regulation and self-acceptance by watching how we treat ourselves. When we shrink, we’re teaching them to shrink. When we apologize for our enthusiasm, our needs, our humanness—they learn to apologize for theirs.
The world doesn’t need smaller versions of us. It needs us at full volume, with all our eccentricity, big feelings and inconvenient needs. That’s not selfish. That’s honest.
We’re All Here Together
If you’re reading this and thinking, Yes, but I actually AM too much sometimes—I promise you’re not alone in that feeling.
I’ve watched confident, brilliant people apologize for being excited about their work. I’ve seen new mothers say “I’m sorry” before asking their partners to help with the baby at 3 AM. I’ve heard teenagers preface every opinion with “this might be stupid, but…”
We’re all walking around trying to be the “right” amount. Not too happy (annoying). Not too sad (burden). Not too successful (intimidating). Not too struggling (weak).
It’s like we’re all at a volume dial, constantly adjusting ourselves. Click down two notches in this meeting. Turn it up slightly for this friend but not that friend. Mute completely around certain family members. We’re exhausted DJs of our own personalities, and frankly, the music sounds terrible at half-volume.
But here’s what I’ve noticed: The people I feel most connected to are never the ones who got the formula right. They’re the ones who gave up trying. The ones who laugh too loud at their own jokes. Who cry during commercials. Who text me seventeen times in a row when they’re excited. Who ask for help. Who take up space.
That’s not too much. That’s just… real.
The Return (Your Toolkit for Coming Home to Yourself)
Okay, so you’ve read this far and you’re thinking, Great, love this energy, very inspiring—but HOW do I actually stop shrinking?
Fair question. Here’s the thing: You’re not going to wake up tomorrow and suddenly be operating at full volume. This isn’t a light switch; it’s more like gradually turning up the dimmer on a chandelier. (Stay with me on this metaphor—you’re the chandelier. You’ve been dimmed for years. We’re bringing back the sparkle.)
So let’s start small. Here are some tools to help you remember who you are:
Journal Prompt: The “Too Much” Inventory
Grab your journal and finish these sentences:
- I’ve been told I’m “too _______” when really I’m just _______
- A part of myself I’ve been shrinking is _______
- If I stopped trying to be less, I would _______
- Someone who lets me be fully myself is _______ (notice how you feel around them)
Daily Mantra (Say This Until You Believe It)
“I am not too much. I am exactly enough. The right people will have room for all of me.”
Or try: “My intensity is not a flaw. It’s fuel.”
A Breathing Practice for When You Catch Yourself Shrinking
When you notice yourself getting smaller—literally or metaphorically—try this:
- Stop what you’re doing
- Take up more physical space (stand wider, stretch your arms, uncross your legs)
- Breathe in for 4 counts, hold for 4, out for 4
- Say internally: “I belong here, exactly as I am”
- Continue with whatever you were doing, but 5% bigger
The Week-Long Experiment
For seven days, notice when you shrink yourself. Don’t try to change it yet—just notice. Keep a note on your phone. By day seven, you’ll see the pattern. That’s when you can start making different choices.
Book Recommendation
If this resonates, grab Year of Yes: How to Dance It Out, Stand in the Sun and Be Your Own Person by Shonda Rhimes . It’s about what happens when a woman who built an empire while hiding herself decides to start saying yes to life. It’s funny, it’s real, and it might just dare you to stop shrinking.
Let’s Talk
Here’s what I want you to know: If you walked away from this thinking, Well, I actually AM too much for some people, you’re right. You are.
And that’s perfect.
Because those aren’t your people.
Your people are out there, looking for someone exactly as loud, sensitive, ambitious, needy, or intense as you are. They’re hoping you won’t shrink. They’re waiting for the full version.
What’s one way you’ve been making yourself smaller? What would it look like to take up just a little more space this week?
Drop a comment, send me a message, or just sit with the question. You don’t have to have the answer yet.
You just have to start remembering who you were before the world told you to be less.
P.S. – If this hit home, save this post. Pin it. Come back to it on the days when you’re apologizing for existing. And know that somewhere, I’m cheering for the too-much version of you.
