When I was little, I learned a painful lesson—one that took me decades to unlearn.
I learned that I was too much.
Too curious. Too energetic. Too loud. Too… me.
My mother didn’t just sigh when I asked endless questions—she often seemed overwhelmed, even angered by my curiosity and energy. Teachers sometimes found me distracting. Friends could grow quiet around me. Somewhere along the way, I began to absorb the idea that my natural way of being—the way I lit up inside when I talked, laughed, wondered, and played—was just too much for the world around me to handle.
So I tried to shrink myself. I tried to fit into smaller spaces, to speak less, laugh quieter, and keep my wild imagination tucked safely away. But I was never very good at it. No matter how hard I tried, the real me would always sneak out—the one who laughs loud and often, who loves to be silly, who dances even though she’s not coordinated, who sings just because it feels good.
And in those moments, I was usually rebuffed. The message was clear: dial it down. Be less.
But my spirit was never meant to live small.
Now, in my 40s, I’m finally meeting the real me—the one I hid for so long—and I’m realizing she is someone I truly love. She’s a strong, intelligent, creative force in this world. She’s curious about the cosmos, talks with extradimensional beings, and gazes at the night sky looking for (and often seeing) UAPs and UFOs. She is magical, radiant, and endlessly alive…just like we all our in our own ways.
For so long, I thought I had to cover that up to be accepted. But what I’ve learned is that the parts of me I tried to suppress are exactly the parts that make me who I am. My “too much” was never a flaw—it was my frequency. My life force. My truth.
Today, I no longer apologize for being too loud, too deep, or too curious. I no longer twist myself into shapes that make others comfortable. I exist in full color, and I choose to love the version of myself who always refused to disappear completely.
If you’ve ever been told you’re “too much,” I invite you to look deeper.
Because maybe, just maybe, you’re not too much at all—maybe you’re just too alive for a world still learning how to feel.
When I began to meditate on who I truly was beneath all the conditioning, something shifted. In the stillness, I started hearing the whispers of my guides—the loving, patient beings who had been with me all along. Through those conversations, I began to see myself through their eyes: vast, luminous, and whole.
Healing this part of me wasn’t about becoming less—it was about remembering more.
More of my laughter. More of my curiosity. More of my connection to the infinite.
If you, too, have carried the belief that you are too much, sit quietly with yourself.
Breathe. Listen. Ask your higher self, your guides, or the Universe to show you who you were before the world told you to shrink.
You are not too much. You never were. The right beings will meet you in your fullness—and when they do, you’ll finally see what the universe has always known: you belong here, exactly as you are.
