Most of my life has been filled with people, who in one way or another told me I was too much. Too serious, too sensitive (man, this one), too proper, too loud, too black, too white, too skinny (this one–more on that later) too analytical; had too many boundaries; too opinionated and I listened to them. I let those opinions and words force back the wisdom and insight that often comes from being too sensitive, analytical, opinionated, quiet, etc. When I forced my “too muchness” back, it morphed me into someone I didn’t like and someone who was always compromising and negotiating my boundaries. In my efforts to be accepted, liked and or loved, I became the mask and I suffered greatly. I ignored my intuition and put myself in risky situations because I couldn’t say no or walked away from greats opportunities because I couldn’t say yes. There is always a price to pay for lying to ourselves for whatever reason; for morphing ourselves into someone we don’t even recognize. One of the prices we pay is the ideas, insights, wisdom and dreams that want to forth can’t. These beautiful beings that we are can’t find expression and like under nurtured plants, that part of us withers away. A lack of the expression of our divine selves turns toxic inside of us.
I would love to say that writing this post is my public profession that today I shed the entire mask, but that’s a front too. Change doesn’t happen like that. The masks we wear offer a myth of safety, but safety all the same. It takes patience, commitment and compassion ( for the mask’s role in our lives and all we had to do to make it through) for us to feel safe in being real. It also takes being willing to not be praised for it. When we begin the practice of being real, you start telling the truth to yourself and then to others and we all know how the go . Being real is the scariest thing you can do. Especially when we’ve worn the mask for so long. It can be terrifying, because when we finally trust enough to take that leap and begin to take it off, the question we’re constantly asking ourselves is, “Will they love me. Can they love this (seeming) brokenness?” Just to be with those questions is enough to unearth all our wounds. But that is the great task The truth is, we don’t know, which makes the discomfort of the mask far more attractive. Because free falling is a scary.
In some ways this post is a step in that direction. It won’t be the last time I write about being real. It’s my practice. A step in the direction of trying to be real. So, as I take this step, I encourage you to try on your too muchness. Look back into your life and gather those parts of yourself that others told you were too loud, too soft, too, whatever and let them out play. Let yourself taste your too muchness. If it’s only or a few minutes a day. Be open to being surprised.
be well. be real. be you.