When You Feel You're Too Much

I’m currently listening to the book Autism in Heels by Jennifer Cook O’Toole.

She’s a late-diagnosed Autistic woman, and in her book she shares insights about herself and her family, and reflects on her experiences through this new lens. She often talks about being “too much:” too analytical, too dramatic, too spoiled, too demanding, too needy, too weird. She was too much.

I, too, have felt too much. Too sensitive, too anxious, and too stubborn, insubordinate. But I’m simply trying to exist. I feel my emotions pretty strongly, which means when I hurt, I hurt, and when I experience joy, I’m ecstatic. It also means that when I’m fully committed to something or I’m standing up for my values, then I’m all in. This has definitely gotten me into trouble at work and school, because of the unspoken expectation to adhere to specific rules which I struggle to follow.. 

I also see this in my practice, this feeling of being too much for others to tolerate or appreciate, which, as you can guess, impacts one's self-esteem and self-worth.

It’s hard to appreciate these traits (or depending on who you’re talking to, symptoms) about yourself when the message is “there is something wrong with you.” No, you need to learn to hold back, take up less space, and channel that “too-muchness” in a more socially-approved manner. 

It can get exhausting, especially if you have to figure out how to hold back on a daily basis.

If you’re passionate about something in your life, it can be hard to resist the urge to share that passion everywhere—with friends, family, colleagues, random people on the internet, etc. Passion and dedication are considered to be important traits, admirable even, but only within certain limits. In Autism in Heels, Jenny (the author) brought up the way that people love the image of a precocious child until it becomes a reality. Realistically, a precocious child will push against the norms or standards, which can make adults feel uncomfortable. And how do uncomfortable adults interpret this discomfort? Often as a threat—to their ego, their intelligence, or their ability to raise a child that fits that status quo. While it’s not exactly the same thing, passionate, intense people can make others very uncomfortable for similar or parallel reasons. It’s great for someone to have passion, until it’s an inconvenience.

Off on a tangent I went. Let me get back to the point I was trying to make:

Modulating your intensity when you’re simply experiencing life to make your self-expression palatable for others has a cost, which is often a hit on self-esteem, self-worth, and energy. It can cost you your ability to recognize when your needs aren’t being met or when others are violating your boundaries, and it can be hard to notice the signs that you need help. 

All of this makes sense: we navigate the world by experiencing emotions and physical sensations, which serve as information about how we’re responding to the environment. This sensation feels good so this is something I want to continue; this creates a knot in my stomach, so something is making me feel bad or uncomfortable, etc. This is why many individuals who struggle with alexithymia (an inability to recognize their emotions) or someone who has poor interoception (trouble identifying internal body cues such as hunger and thirst) can find it difficult to address their needs throughout the day. They can’t tell when they’re hungry until they’re extremely exhausted or irritable. They can’t tell if they’re disappointed or angry until they find themselves blowing up at others. But for those who do have the ability to recognize their emotions and feel the sensations in their body, hearing the message that you’re “too much” on a regular basis can lead to internalizing that message. It can feel pretty true that if you want to belong, to be accepted, you have to pull back on your outward expression and ignore or dismiss what you’re experiencing. 

People want to belong and people are great problem solvers, so if being too much is part of the problem, then how do you learn to scale it back?

Does it mean that you quiet the internal screaming as the seams of your socks agitate your skin? Does it mean you swallow your impulse to give a lesson on the history of [insert really cool topic here] because you’ve experienced the way it apparently hijacks and disrupts the flow of the conversation, and you don’t want to be that person who ruins everything (again)? Does it mean that you bottle up your anger or disappointment when someone lets you down because you don’t want to make them feel bad or because you don’t want to be blamed? After all, you’re the one who is making this into a big deal, too dramatic and sensitive. All this mental and physical effort, just for the opportunity to follow the rules and belong. Some people are great at masking in this way, and others not so much. Sometimes trying this hard backfires and it can feel like you’re being too much about not being too much. 

But even for those who best know how to contort themselves to fit what’s expected, that amazing problem solving eventually leads to a blow up or a meltdown—people can only handle so many dismissive, minimizing responses (even from oneself) until the bottle is beyond full and there’s no more room for anything else to be shoved down. Then, after blowing up or berating yourself to no end over something very trivial (but you had no more fucks to give), the familiar feeling of shame and regret and sadness creeps in. You were once again too much, as you always are, despite your best efforts. Perhaps you can recognize the sad irony that it’s the attempt to constantly control your reactions that led to this extreme reaction you’re hating yourself for now.

Ugh. The pendulum of doing everything possible to be in control and then losing control is emotionally exhausting and damaging at such a deep level.

So what do you do? 

Stop telling yourself you’re too much.

You are not too much. You are just enough, as is. You may feel things intensely. You may get lost in a world where your interests consume and nurture your soul at a level that others don’t understand, but that doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with you. Your feelings may be so intense that those around you do not always know how to cope with them or support you in the ways that you need, but that is not a flaw on your end—it’s a reflection of how we (as a society) don’t teach people how to truly sit in discomfort caused by others’ behaviors without trying to minimize or fix them. 

Change the relationship you have with how you sense the world.

Practice seeing yourself through a lens of curiosity rather than judgment. You’ve been judged your whole life for being too much; you’re a pro at effortlessly judging yourself. Training your brain to not view your responses and reactions as the enemy requires patience and intention, and even then, you’ll probably judge yourself in the process. When you do eventually put yourself down, how can you get curious about the experience? Here are some questions to ask yourself:

What does it mean for you to have such big feelings or vibrant sensations? 

When does it create moments of pleasure and joy? 

How does it lead to pain and hurt? 

Senses, in and of themselves, aren’t good or bad. They’re simply the way we interpret data from the environment. Of course, intensity can be at a level where it’s debilitating, and if that’s the case things will look different AND I’m still going to challenge you to look at all the various ways these experiences add color to your life.

Honor your strengths and interests with yourself and in community.

There is nothing wrong with you if you find yourself wanting to talk about or explore the depths of [insert your intense interest here] for hours, but it’s also disappointing when you can’t find others who value or appreciate the nuance or details of the topic. So it can be very helpful to find a community that will support you in your interests as well as stimulate your brain in a way that feels fulfilling. This can be challenging, but connecting with others, whether online or in person, who appreciate the way you think and feel will help you build a better relationship with yourself without having to necessarily manipulate yourself for others.

I will leave you with this: make sure to assess for safety.

Talking about something or expressing something that is intense and vulnerable with someone who will either use that against you or invalidate you can lead to some pretty severe emotional wounds, risk job security, or ruin relationships. If it is ultimately not safe to be yourself, then it’s okay to keep up the facade. It still doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with you, but it’s important to prioritize your safety, while hopefully you work to find a community in which it is possible to safely and comfortably be yourself.