In my private practice, I will sometimes have a session that is so moving, so powerful that I want to hold on to the words that flow forth. But I am not often blessed with the memories of these sessions. However, if I find my way to a computer or a pen and paper right after the session (which is rare), I’ve found that I can sometimes capture the essence. These “capturings” I will call “The Sessions.” Here is the first:
“I don’t want to live in a box; I don’t fit in a box. But I don’t know where I fit, because I’ve always been told I’m too much. Too loud. Too happy. Too sad. Too joyous. Too much love for God. Just always too much of everything.”
My heart drooped in my chest hearing this sweet woman relay what those who love her tell her about herself. Tears formed in my eyes as I reached toward her soul compassionately and nudged her to believe something different, something more full of truth.
“But are you?” I asked. “Are any of us really ever too much of anything? Aren’t we supposed to be too much? Don’t we come here as humans to explore and push the boundaries? To find the box and then find a way out of it? Aren’t we supposed to be too loud – so that we can explore our voice and find the volume that allows the most people to hear us? Aren’t we meant to be too happy so that we can balance out those moments when we’re too sad and help ourselves hold on to hope? Aren’t we meant to be too joyous so that we can share and spread that emotion with those we love and have a little extra to hold us over on the days when sorrow wants to wring us out like a desolate housewife hand-washing lipstick that’s not her shade out of her husband’s soft collared shirt? Aren’t we supposed to hold too much and be too much so that it can spill over and out of us? So that we can be vessels for all that is divinely meant to pour through us while also being huge loving lights shining out all that we are?”
She sniffled. Tears rained down her cheeks like yesterday’s ocean thunderstorm.
“We are,” I said. “We are meant to be too much -too desperate for love, too fragile for the world, too good for that damaging relationship, too energetic to sit still, too tired to move, too bright to hide our shimmer, and too compassionate for cruelty. We are meant to be too much. So we never can be too much. We just gotta keep on being. You have to keep on being. Because you’re not too much. Who you are is not too much. You’re beautiful and divine and full of everything that this world needs.”
She sniffled again, her light turning on from within, burning through the layers of shame and trauma deep in her body.
“And you know what I think?” I asked without pausing for her answer. “I think that all of those people, family and friends and strangers and acquaintances, and anyone who ever said that you were too much – I think all of those people said you were too much because they felt they were not enough – not loud enough, not happy enough, not sad enough, not joyous enough, not trusting enough in the God that you allow to guide you everyday. By saying you were too much they were trying to make themselves believe that they didn’t have to rise up, to ignore the fact that your big, powerful energy was begging them to become more. And that, my love – THAT is on them. That is their wound to heal, not yours. You aren’t too much love. Let’s reframe that right now with the truth: your energy was too much for them, because they couldn’t match you or contain you. But you’re not meant to live in a box, remember? Don’t try to live in theirs. Go be too much, because that’s just enough.”