To the Women Who Were Always Told They Were Too Much

Too Much, Meet Not Enough

When my oldest was a baby I used to drop her off at the YMCA childcare while I tried to get in a little workout. (It was that desperate stage of motherhood when I would lose an arm to get 15 minutes to myself, but I spent whatever alone time I had trying to “get my body back.”) One of the staff was a sweet woman, older than me. One day when she handed R back to me, she said “she’s bossy”. And she laughed, like it was a cute, funny thing to say about a baby girl. Hahaha. I laughed along (because that’s what you do), but inside I bristled a little. Not just because she’s a baby and she doesn’t talk (because she certainly did communicate her needs quite well, so I couldn’t actually argue with the assessment). Because only girls get called bossy, like it’s a bad thing.

Both of our girls were Difficult Babies. Difficult Babies grow up to be children with Strong Personalities.

But Strong Personalities grow up to be adults with extraordinary strength, if only we do everything we can not to blow out their fire. It’s this fire that I’m aware of, that I keep in the back of my mind, when in the midst of the roller coaster of the Big Energy of my home. Sometimes I feel like I’m just along for the ride.

For someone as sensitive and easily overstimulated as me, it can be quite overwhelming. I haven’t quite figured out the balance between holding space for them and taking care of myself, but it’s daily work and it is my life’s work.

A lot of women I work with (scratch that, a lot of women I meet) (scratch that, a lot of women, period) are told, in some way or another, they’re too much.

Too talkative. Too emotional. Bossy.

At this moment in time, these women are waking up to themselves (whether through Human Design, or Astrology, or just introspection), and realizing they have so much more to offer than they gave themselves credit for. That their fire may have gotten blown out but once they reignite it the flame burns brighter than they could have imagined.

That was my story too, but flipped on its head. For one thing, I was an Easy Baby.

I was quiet. Too quiet.

They called it “selective mutism” which made it seem like I had a choice. It didn’t acknowledge the panic that was driving the silence.

Even when I thought I gave them what they wanted, and started talking (enough, at least, for there to not be officially anything “wrong” with me), it wasn’t good enough. For the rest of my life, I could feel the disappointment, the frustration, of every teacher, mentor, boss, from that moment whose expectations I didn’t live up to because I held my tongue and held back. I was Not Enough.

It never occurred to them - or me, at the time - that there wasn’t actually anything wrong with me.

In law school we had a 3rd year writing requirement. Basically a thesis writing project as a graduation requirement. It had to be very long (like 20-40 pages or something). I took zero pleasure in the experience. There were several classes and professors who could walk you through the project and I chose an Intellectual Property focused seminar with one of Berkeley’s prominent IP professors. It was as good a subject as any. Before I go on, don’t get me wrong: I actually enjoyed law school, much of the time. I liked the exam-based courses (which were the majority). I loved the mental journey of learning the case law and applying it to new hypotheticals. I enjoyed the process of learning to “think like a lawyer”.

But I never really found an area of law that captured my attention beyond the exam prep. For the most part, the courses I loved were taught by the most phenomenal teachers (RIP Prof. Swift). When I graduated, all I really knew was that I did not want to be a litigator because I did not want to be speaking in front of a courtroom. That’s not exactly following your sacral response, but that’s what I had.

So the IP track was as good as any when it came to my thesis project. We started out the semester brainstorming possible paper topics. This was a struggle for me. But it wasn’t just a struggle because coming up with ideas was a struggle (obvious now that I know about my undefined Crown center). The bigger struggle was dealing with Professor Menell’s reaction to my ambivalence.

I wasn’t excited and he wasn’t happy about it. To be clear: I was never rude or despondent. I was simply lackluster (I gather). Even when I did finally settle on an idea (a perfectly fine paper discussing the application of the legal concept of initial interest confusion in certain trademark cases), he made a comment that made an indelible impression on my brain about my “lack of passion”.

To be fair, I don’t think he had any intention of criticizing me. It was almost a jokey aside, maybe one he hoped would spur me into something. (Teachers don’t really appreciate the mark they make, for good or bad, even when the student is a grown ass adult).

I felt so inadequate. I wasn’t being judged on my intelligence or academic capabilities, or strategic thinking, or even creative abilities. I was, just as I had been a thousand times in a thousand different ways, being judged on my “size”. My visibility, or lack thereof. My desire, or lack thereof.

My passion, or lack thereof.

I just had no way, no clue, how to even begin to fix this.

How could I make myself more passionate about my work?

It was absolutely true, of course. I wasn’t excited about this paper. Ultimately, I didn’t mind the topic, so I think I did my best responding to the options I was presented with. But I think the concept was that by the time you hit your 3rd year of law school, something, some case or some question or some cause would have taken hold of you, gotten a grip on your heart and brain so feverishly that by the time you got to your thesis the paper practically wrote itself.

What I didn’t know about myself at the time (or rather, I knew about myself, but didn’t realize it wasn’t a design flaw), was that my passions would be found elsewhere, and I have zero ability to fake a modicum of enthusiasm. And that’s ok.

What’s more so, even when I am passionate about something, it’s quite possible for an outsider to miss it.

When my true inner circle started to snap into my life like little puzzle pieces, there was an inkling of insight that maybe I was meant to be this way because they were meant to be that way, but it wasn’t something I was cognizant of. But something about my energy drew in something different. What I like to call Big Energy.

The Too Much.

Because I was never accused of being Too Much. Rather, I am Too Quiet.

Not nearly, not nearly as much as when I was a child. The girl who was diagnosed with selective mutism when she was 5 has come a long way. I still hate making phone calls and I feel anxious in crowds of strangers. Public speaking is still a nightmare. But for the most part, I can and absolutely love to talk to people.

But I am reserved.

Looking at my design it’s no wonder. With 7 undefined centers (including an undefined throat ofc), I’m meant to absorb more than I’m meant to transmit.

Then you can look at my astrological birth chart.

I’ve got my sun, rising, moon and Mercury all in Aquarius in my 1st house.

You can call it aloof and I’ll call it thoughtful. Either way, it’s the epitome of staying out of the limelight (all while sitting in the discomfort of the main character energy of the 1st house).

It’s the exact opposite of the center of attention, larger than life Leo vibes.

It’s the exact opposite, in fact, and therefore antidote and perfect match, to the Too Much energy.

Because it turns out, the Too Much feel something with me they don’t get with anyone else.

Acceptance. Not just in a non-judgmental, accept you for you way, though that’s there. Aquarians are notoriously non-judgmental.

Partly, it’s about being a damn good listener. I have gate 13 in my Unconscious Mercury so if you feel like spilling your guts to me, it’s for good reason. When I was in elementary school one of my friends (not a best friend, by any stretch of the imagination - we played together on the playground sometimes), pulled me aside and pointed out which girl she had a crush on. This was news to me and I don’t think anyone had this on their radar. I don’t know if I even said anything in response, I just listened. I don’t know if it was a secret but I got the sense it might be and I never said anything. I think it’s ok to talk about now since she is happily married. I didn’t fully appreciate the moment at the time. I think she wanted to tell someone who wouldn’t say anything, to her or anyone. I was a little kid - in the 90’s, mind you - and my friend was coming out to me.

But even beyond that, my energy gives you an almost tangible, physical sense of acceptance. Like being held.

There’s something about being in the energy of your energetic opposite - a sense of being fully free to be yourself because you sense without even realizing it that you’re the exact energy that the other person is craving.

I would never want to toot my horn about anything, but (ironically or fittingly), I can tell you this: whatever it is, how much you think it is, however much you’ve worn out and burned out everyone else in your path: not me. I can handle Too Much because I can literally accept your energy. Hold it. Without breaking down myself or throwing it back to you in response.

I know this because I know this, and I know now that it’s felt by others because I’ve been told enough times. I’ve always attracted the Big Energies. I even had a client tell me during a session that she has to filter people she lets in by making sure they’re not too “soft” for her. Which is hard because when you’re looking for support in the wellness or personal development space you are going to find a lot of gentle types. Gentle and caring and wanting to help people often all go hand in hand. But her concern was always that the people who seemed the most gentle would fall apart under her energy.

She said when she was younger she was conditioned to be quiet when she wanted to be loud. Which caused a lot of hurt she’s still unraveling. And she’s done making herself small.

But this begs the question (that was only really hinted at in our conversation), who are your people when you’re done making yourself small, but you still worry your energy is too much for some types of people?

It sounded like she looked for other Big Energies. And this is definitely a good thing, because finding like-minded people is really important for a certain type of support. I love my circle of HSPs and introverts because we offer each other a level of understanding that is needed. True understanding.

But you also need your complete opposite (or opposites) in your life. Your salve.

She told me I was quiet but I’m not soft. She knew, in her words, that I could “handle her”.

That moment was a lightbulb moment for me. Because the strength that it takes to be able to handle the Big Energy of the world should not be taken for granted. The strength it takes to raise my Strong Personality girls should not be taken for granted.

As much as being told I didn’t have enough passion for the work I was doing was devastating, being told I could handle someone else’s energy was so validating, so on point, that it was the healing I needed to that moment from 20 years ago. I was finally seen for who I am.

Because who I am, what I am passionate about, is being the person who is strong enough to carry the biggest, boldest, scariest, most unhinged.

Too much? Not for me. I can handle you.

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A little about me….

I’m Niki — a holistic health and Human Design coach. Recovering lawyer turned SAHM turned health obsessed turned questioning midlifer. I spent years being told my labs were “fine” while my body fell apart, until I finally connected the dots between stress, the nervous system, and physical symptoms. I realized the stress about the cookie was worse than the cookie. Human Design gave me the missing piece: a way to understand my own wiring instead of fighting it.

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