Too Much and Never Enough

This one is for my fellow feelers, or mental health strugglers, or people who don’t identify as that but love someone who does. So I guess, this is for everyone.

I am a feeler. Always have been, always will be. I feel deeply and express it loudly. I don’t just wear my heart on my sleeve. I wear it on my face, on my chest, in my clothes, in my eyes…everywhere. I am a good actor, but I have never been great at acting like I don’t feel how I’m feeling. You know what I mean?

Give me a character and I can play them pretty well. But tell me to not display my emotions, or mask them with a different one, ima have a REAL hard time doing that. It’s like trying to hold in a sneeze. You may successfully end with a quiet and polite “chewp,” but we all saw your eyes bug out and your body convulse and your vein pop out of your head like you were about to explode. You’re not fooling anyone. You’re a sneezer – and we all know it – sneezy.

Anyway – being a feeler means lots of things for me. It means I am tired at the end of every day from emotional exhaustion (on top of normal tiring things like being alive and walking from the couch to the coffee machine). It means I cry at commercials and strangers at the airport or hospital or grocery store. It means I sob during podcasts. It means I sometimes need to process grief that isn’t even mine. 

It also means I am a good listener. I make people feel heard and understood. People feel like they can be open with me – they trust me. It means I am generally good at conflict resolution because I can understand multiple perspectives. I am generally regarded as a good friend. I am frequently described as having a big heart, being compassionate, making others feel loved, being kind. 

It means I can take things personally, second-guess everything, fear abandonment (I’m an ennea Type 2), crave attention, desire vulnerability from others, and make assumptions about their love for/trust in me by their willingness (or lack thereof) to do so.

It means I’ve been labeled as “too much” or “tiring.” It means I am constantly questioning whether or not I measure up.

As an ennea 2, I think my value comes from my contribution more than my person. I believe people love me “because of” <insert the value I bring to their life here>. Don’t worry, I have a whole post I’ll do soon about the definition of love and my recent thoughts about our desire to describe “why” we love each other.

Being inside my “interpersonal relations” headspace is like studying for an exam you’ll never take but still assume you’ll never pass. It can feel very hopeless. And lonely.

I had a conversation with a friend recently who described the desire for closeness with humans as “emotional currency. I give you some, please give me a little.” How spot on. We discussed how we both are “over-sharers” and how it can be a big turnoff for people. We really just want connection, as it is our deepest and purest desire.

But we’ve grown up in an online world where humanity is very much stripped from us. I was listening to Glennon Doyle’s episode on The Skinny Confidential podcast, and she mentioned this. We are filtered and calculated and made to be “the android version of ourselves.” We are more robotic than human.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how we grew up in an online world where people “don’t want to hear about” our humanity.

“Social media is for puppies and babies and happiness.”
“Nobody wants to see/hear about your hardships, your depression, your identity crisis.”
“Stick to xyz. There’s enough negativity out there. Let’s be happy and light.”

That’s only been exacerbated by all this year has challenged us with. “Nobody wants to hear about” your political stance, your desire for all Americans to have fair and equitable access, your human beliefs that drive incredibly important decisions like who we elect as leaders of our communities and country.

If I had a dollar for every time I saw someone post about “what social media is for,” well I wouldn’t be rich but I could buy some cool shit.

Who made you the social media dictator, Karen?! Speak to a manager elsewhere. Zuck is too busy fighting lawsuits to address your displeasure.

Anyway, if you’re still reading at this point, the “processing” I’m working on is recognizing when I am writing a false narrative, vs listening to my gut. I can overanalyze. Every comment, text, story, I slice it three different ways and see if it has a hidden meaning.

 
I wonder if I’m being too much – too open, too share-y, too vulnerable, too attention-seeking, too depressed, too emotional, too exhausting. Will I be “too much” to stay loved?

What if I wake up one day and I’ve exhausted everyone?

What if you’ve gotten to the end of this and you’re too exhausted to be interested in hearing more? What if my carrying of others’ grief is intrusive?

What if in trying to be a good friend, and also feel loved, I’m draining everyone around me?

How do I not be “too much” when all I know how to be is myself? 
How is it that feeling like I’m “too much” also makes me feel like I’m not enough?

I remind myself that I am loved for this. I remind myself that I am me for this. I remind myself that I have some of my best experiences are because of this. I remind myself that I feel one with music because of this. That my life has a soundtrack, because of this. That my relationships can be beautiful, because of this.  That I can be a mindful parent, because of this.  That I can raise kind children, because of this.  That my fear of abandonment does not trump my desire to abandon my fears and live the full life that my unique heart is capable of creating.

Are you exhausted yet?