The woman who was too Much

I was having post-class drinks with two friends last night and the question was posed, what do I think people say about me?  The inquiry derived as we were debriefing the personalities in our class which had ended only minutes prior.  I told them I didn’t know what people would say about me. They looked at me in disbelief, and I did not utter the words because I truly did not know, I simply was unsure of where anyone may begin…I am a whole lot.

I was telling My Person just yesterday that I believe both she and myself are the types of people that you are either hot or cold on with no in-between.  Love us or hate us. Love me or hate me.  At least that has been my experience, I have not met anyone who is luke-warm on me, unsure or unclear, debating and considering.  My muchness is pronounced and demands a response.

“Well,” I pondered out loud, “I suppose there is my sense of entitlement, people may say I’m spoiled.”  I’d called myself out for the very thing anyway.  If nothing else I am self aware. I’ve laid my flaws out across my bed and knitted a quilt of them all, they keep me warm at night.  The thing I have always found a bit of solace in with my so-called-entitlement, is that I do not expect others to do for me. I am perfectly happy to do for myself.  I was watching a Joan Rivers documentary yesterday afternoon and she spoke of the opulence in her decor and the grandiosity of her lifestyle neither of which she apologized for. “I like to live well, it is why I work hard. But I do not get into a limo not since 1968 without saying thank you to God and knowing that I am privileged to be there.”  It made me respect her a little more.

I stopped there with my friends but the question arose in me again just this morning. The only other thing I could say was that I am too much. I alluded to this last night as well.  My words seem to carry a tremendous amount of weight.  My actions exaggerated. My emotions are exponential. I am dramatic and brass and certainly not delicate nor wistful.  I am not a desert blush sunrise I am a fiery crimson sunset. It is very hard to ignore me, one would certainly have to try.  It has afforded me some things, most assuredly, and cost me others. The losses, I figure, were simply the carving of my marble.

treasure your muchness

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