Wednesday, November 22, 2017

"Too"

Am I the only woman in the world who loathes being told she is "too" _____ (anything)?

Maybe that's just me.

Maybe I'm taking things the wrong way. Maybe I'm misinterpreting what people say to me. Maybe I'm reading between the lines way too much. Maybe I'm just a spaz and I need to chill the eff out.

Or maybe I'm just sick and tired of never, ever being "enough" or "right" for people. Like super-dee-duper sick and tired of it. Fed up. Like this:



"Too." I really can't stand that word. I freaking hate it. And here's why...

My whole life--and I mean, my entire existence--I've been told by people that I am "too" much or "too" little of about a thousand different things that are usually completely out of my control, meaning I had no way to correct it without changing the very fiber of who I am, and what makes me Brooke. 

You're too sensitive.
You're too aloof.
You're too loud.
You're being too quiet.
You're too opinionated.
You're too subservient.
You're too scared.
You're too bold.
You're too soft.
You're too needy.
You're too standoffish.
You're too religious.
You're too open.
You're too conservative.
You're too liberal.
You're too closed off.
You're too accepting.
You're too racist.
You're too crass.
You're too proper.
You're too silly.
You're too immature.
You're too high needs.
You're too closed off.
You're too sheltered.
You're too wordly.
You're too materialistic.
You're too disconnected.
You're too tuned in.
You're too high strung.
You're too carefree.
You're too.....you're too.....you're toooooo.....




I. Am. Not. Too. Anything. Anymore. Got it?

As most of you know, I am a Christian. I believe that, despite my flaws--both physical and emotional--I was divinely created to have a place on this world, and to be a necessary and important part of God's plan. That part could be as big and important as somehow changing the world for the better, or it could be as simple and seemingly insignificant as writing silly romance novels that make people smile. Regardless, I was created the way I was created because He saw purpose in me.

Did you read that? I'll say it again. Because He saw purpose in me.



Not purpose in the way I need to be, or the way I should be. But in the way I am. Needy, loud, crass, high strung, materialistic, immature... all ingredients adding to the recipe that somehow created weird, lame, spazzy me. And I am finally (at the tender age of 41) ready to start accepting that I was created this way for a reason. My unreasonable fear of bears? For a reason. My incessant need to have the throw pillows on the couch arranged just so? For a reason. My need to seek attention and laughter from people, even when it isn't socially acceptable to do so? For a reason. My self loathing? For a reason.

I was made the way He wanted me to be. And yes, I always need to work on being a better woman, a better wife, a better friend, a better mother, a better human, but there is nothing wrong with being me, either.

There is a reason I was made to be the high strung mess that I am. There is a reason why I was put on this earth with anxieties and worries that keep me up at night, and there is a reason why I want people's approval, even when they're idiots, and their approval isn't required, much less preferred. There is a reason why I make people flinch and curl away from me when I am honestly just trying to be their friend. There is a reason why I don't fit in with the people I should fit in with, and a reason why I'm sensitive to that fact, even though everybody and their dog tell me that it shouldn't matter. There is a reason why I've been given so very many "too's" in this lifetime, and why I have spent 41 years feeling like a square peg in a round hole with literally everybody in my life.



I am learning how to embrace my "too's." Too sensitive? No, that means I feel. When so many others numb themselves to the aches and stings of human life, I dare to feel. That's something to be proud of, right? Too high-strung? No, that means I live. When so many others shuffle through life with their heads down, trying to just get through the day without incident, I dare to laugh and joke and smile and talk-talk-talk until I'm blue in the face. Trying too hard? No, that means I'm trying where others give up. It takes balls of steel to try to make a room full of teenagers laugh, even though they're literally staring at me like I've announced I like to drop-punt kittens as a pastime. Too loud? No, that means I dare to speak up when others shush themselves. I have opinions and observations to share, even when everyone else is clamming up and facing forward like sheep--I dare to speak.

These are good qualities. Even if the world sees them as flaws. To me, and my Maker, they're assets.



It would be nice in this lifetime to hear the words: You are good enough. You fit. You have a place, instead of you're "too" this, or "too" that. I'm not sure I'll live long enough to hear those things from the people who count the most, but it feels most excellent to finally be able to say them to myself.

xoxo
Brooke