“Life is complicated. I am tired of hiding.”

“Why are you hiding?”

“Because I’m ‘too much’ girl”

“Oh. I know that story. All too well.”

“I just had a long distance lover dump me because I’m too much. And it hurts. Fuck it. No more.”

+++++

Listen to me. Right now.

You are right. Fuck it. No more. Never again.

You are not too much. You have never been too much. You will never be too much.

The very idea is preposterous. Because you were born to be you. All of you. Not a tiny acceptable sliver. Not a watered down version with colors dulled and edges softened.

No. You were meant to be every last pulsing-bleeding-loving-crying-feeling bit.

And if someone tells you that you are too much for them, the only truth you need to remember is this:

It is highly likely that they are not now, and never could have been, near enough for you.

Because you, my girl. You are the sun and the moon and the stars. You are the force that pulls the tides. You are the unrestrained howl under a wide-open moon. You are the essence of what it is to dance into ecstasy. You are the heat and the sex and the sweat and the burn and soft and the grace and the grit and the ocean of tears.

You are all of everything.

You are the mother of us all and the daughter of the universe.

You walk through shadows and light.

You burn down and rise up and hold captive the pulse of the world.

You make the gods tremble.

And that, my dear, is bound to make some people crazy uncomfortable. It will make them pull back and push away. Because the way you dance with your shadows and your steadfast commitment to your light will push them into spaces that are fascinating and compelling and utterly terrifying. Your very being asks them to step into places they may not be near ready to visit, let alone stay.

Because like the depths of the ocean that calls you home, you will never be easy.

But darling, you were not brought here for easy. You are here for so much more.

Because you are a boundary pusher.

You’re a truth seeker.

You’re temptation and seduction and heat.

You’re a mirror and a sorcerer and inside you swirls the power of the ancients.

So no, you are not easy.

But in the space of that truth – please also know this. Do not get this confused with the notion that you do not deserve the deepest ease. Don’t for a minute let them convince you that you will not know the grace of a lover who does not require that you constantly translate yourself or diminish yourself or quiet your storm or tone down your extravagant love.

Because that, my girl, is bullshit.

Because out there somewhere there is a love who will never dream of calling you too much. Who speaks, like you, in poetry and candlewax and stardust. Who runs outside on stormy nights to howl at the moon. Who collects bones and sings incantation and talks to the ancestors. And that lover, when you find him or her, will see you and know you – just as you are and just as you should be.

And they will say yes. Yes, you. I will go there with you. I have been waiting for this.

And so while you are waiting, I want you to do this. For me, and for every last too much girl out there.

You take all that too much and you channel it. You gather every last ember of your too much broken heart and you light that flame. And in doing so you will call forth the others and you sing the song that brings us home.

And then you – in your infinite, perfect too-muchness – unleash it all on the world. And you go and love too much and you cry too much and you swear too much. Fall in love to fast and get sad too often and laugh too loudly and demand with clarity the exact terms of your own desired existence.

Don’t you dare consider doing anything but that.

Because we need you. Everyone of us, man or woman, who has been called too much. You are our reminder, in the most desperate of moment, that we are exactly as we should be.

Every last too-much bit.

Within the pages of this original inspirational book is the permission you’ve been waiting for. Permission to grow into your wholeness. Permission to take up as much space as you need. Permission to ground down into the deep wisdom of your own knowing: You are exactly as you should be. You are not too much.
Buy Your Copy Now

Uncommon Sense is an ongoing series where I respond to comments and questions that stir my heart. They arrive by email, by text, by comment. They speak to something universal in me, and my response comes quick and sure. If you have something stirring in your heart and would like me to respond – please send me your message. I cannot respond publicly to all messages, but I do promise – with everything that I have –  that I will honor it and keep it safe.

The post Uncommon Sense || You are not too much. appeared first on Jeanette LeBlanc.

you get picked last for the team
left out of the plans
excluded from the circle.
the rejection letter arrives in the mail
she picks the other girl
the door you were about to walk through
gets slammed hard in your face
and you are left outside in the cold
stunned and alone.

yes
sometimes this is how it is.

you will stand in the harsh glare of the spotlight
looking out into a sea of faces and know
this performance will not be greeted by applause
you will want more than you get
and loved less than you deserve.

at the end of the day you will sit wearily
having done your best
your very best
and realize that nobody has noticed
or worse, everybody noticed all the wrong things.

and you will know what they are saying about you
because you have heard it before
from those voices that live in the very back corner of your brain.
the ones that say
that you are too much
or not enough
or far more difficult
not near as easy as expected
bigger or smaller or louder or more silent than what
they
wanted-needed-expected you to be

and exiled from your desire
and chastised for your wanting
and ridiculed for your being
you ache
your shoulders droop
and you feel vulnerably visible
or maybe as a ghostly apparition,
ignored by those whose witness you most crave
naked before impossible judgment

this is when demons that stalk
roar out of shadows
perch on your right shoulder
breath fire into your ear
flamed whispers searing a brand into
the sacred flesh covering your collarbone

-inadequate
not good enough
stupid
worthless un-liked
less-than
too much
slut
boring
attention whore
waste of space-

and you will hear them loud and clear
every fiber of every muscle absorbing
every last word
drowning out quiet voices that speak other, highly suspect, truths
– you are loved, you are beautiful, you are enough-
because those words make bile rise in throat
skepticism entrenched deep fighting against
flowery words that yearn for a home
that cannot be found.

but right now?
this is not the giving up time
no matter how many times you’ve given up before
that would be a predictable end to a predictable story
and you are anything but a predictable woman
with a predictable life

this time the searing breath wakes you up
this time the numbing is excluded from the party
and your head lifts
and your shoulders square
and you breathe deep into the exact
center
of your goddess power.

this time
you do not apologize
or sulk into shadows
or back off the stage in shame.
you do not accept their rejection
conform to their definition
you do not dim your colors
or fade into oblivion

No.

this time
you will start your own team
widen your circle
cast your net
change all the plans
rip up that letter filled with no
and paint the word
acceptance in rainbow colors across your skin
under the glow of the welcoming moon.

you will do what you damn well please
refuse to define yourself as
part of any half-conceived partnership
decline the invitation to stay
when your soul only whispers, go.
and choose to exchange vows with
your own wild divinity instead
you will take steps to get what you want
give yourself every last ounce of love you have always deserved
discovering along the way the multitudes within you
so that alone is never lonely

you will buy enough paint
to create your own marquee
emblazoned with every last bit of your glory
you will step back into the spotlight
and magnify the beat of your heart
until it fills the room
and the sound of your own electric heart
becomes a standing ovation loud enough to power
twenty more women toward their destiny.

and you will take notice
off all the right things
and all things they took pleasure in labeling wrong
until your too-much-not-enough becomes just exactly right
and you wrap it all up in bliss
celebrate it as front page news
bold headline blazed right across the top of the wise night sky

and you will hear what they say about you
they will always say things about women like you
but the truth of your song
is now playing so loud
that their words will be drowned out by
the sound of your own singing
and by the festival of spirit that has been gathering in
celebration.

when the demons come
and they will come
you will usher them close
coax them near
seducing with piercing eyes and parted lips
you will perch on their right shoulder
and whisper
with quiet insistence
go. now is my time.
filling up your chest and your lungs and your mighty spirit
with visible proof of your inherent divinity.
your roaring sensuality
your selfless selfishness
and you will sear their skin with your brazen reclamation
of self.

and you will throw your arms wide
and lift your head back
and feel love radiating at you from all directions
especially from your white-hot core
fierce with reality
righteous with conviction
certain of self

and you will breathe
it in deep and think

YES.
So THIS is how it is.

_____

Photo by Fabrice Villard on Unsplash

The post So This Is How It Is (A Poem To Remind You Of Your Divinity) appeared first on Jeanette LeBlanc.