Am I Too Much?

(I wrote this, not to shame those who I may be talking about, but rather to portray as best I can the inner struggles that are caused by people's words)

I want to connect.

Deeply.

I reach out.

They say they're busy.

Been so busy.

The words echo thru my soul.

I back away.

I want to be respectful.

I don't want to overwhelm.

I don't want to be a bother.

You see;

The very first time

I opened my heart

I was too much.

Too much, they said.

Me. I'm too much.

With all my struggles and pain.

Searching for hope.

Trying to find a reason

Why I'm still alive

In this painful life.

I want friends.

I long to connect.

Part of me throws all in.

The rest of me waits in the shadows.

Waiting. Waiting.

To see if I'm too much.

Again.

I'm wired for connection.

I know it in my bones.

Little moments

Here and there

Keep me coming back for more.

In and out

Of religious institutions.

You see;

I don't meet the requirements

Of standards unwritten.

I'm different.

I don't fit in.

I use my voice

To be vulnerable...

Share my side of

Spiritual and emotional abuse

And the consequences

That threaten

To ruin my life.

I am not heard.

Gaslighting and manipulation

Instead.

From the one who should

Be the shepherd.

I walk away.

I lose the friends

I thought I had.

I make boundaries.

I lose family.

I lose friends.

Till I don't know

Who really is left.

They're so busy, they say.

It's a trigger.

I back away.

Are they really busy

Or am I too much

Again?

Maybe I really am too much.

Too much pain.

Too much struggle.

Too much passion.

Too many dreams.

Too much this.

Too much that.

Too much everything?

Is this how

Life is supposed to be?

What am I to do

With the yearning for connection?

Deep connection?

Is everyone too busy?

Does nobody have time?

Or maybe it's me.

Maybe

I really am too much.

Maybe

I will always be lonely.

Maybe

Nobody else can connect

On the depth that

I long to connect.

I never will fit in.

I never have.

It may appear so at times.

But no;

I dont fit.

You just can't see

The parts that don't fit.

They're so busy, they say.

It feels like rejection.

A trigger.

If I'm not too much

Then what?

How do I reconcile

This

With the hungry heart

Inside

That longs to connect?

I want to believe

I'm not too much.

That I have some true friends.

Perhaps

I just can't see them

Right now.

But how can they be true

If they aren't present

In my life now?

To the heart inside

It feels like rejection.

To hear, I've been so busy.

Because

What if

Like so many before

Who just vanish

Only to come back to

Haunt me

In my thoughts and dreams?

And I wonder

Was I too much

Again?

I dont know how

To fix

This part of me.

The wounds

Are very deep.

They touch every part

Of my being.

Is this just a dream?

Will I ever wake up?

Or is this reality?

I make boundaries.

I make choices to heal.

People and things

Fall left and right.

I look around.

I feel so alone.

No one safe.

Not one friend

Who has time?

It doesn't look that way.

So I get up.

I resolve to let them drop.

Let them fall

By the way.

As I struggle forward

With exhausted steps.

One foot forward.

One step.

Other foot forward.

Two steps.

I stop and

Look around.

Its eerily quiet

And a weird dawn-dusk

All around

As though

Hope struggled with defeat.

Both are battle-weary.

It appears that both will lose.

What does that mean?

One step forward.

One step back.

Do the next thing.

Wait against hope

For a safe friend

Who really wants to connect.

To hear.

To see.

To care.

To share.

But. What if.

That is selfish?

Does that mean

I need to squash myself

In a box?

To not be a bother?

To hide in the shadows?

To wait?

Wait for the connection

That may never come?

To close my heart?

To squash that longing

For connection?

I'm so tired.

Tired of trying

Tired of waiting

Tired of being affected

By the lonely wait.

Should I keep waiting

Or should I let go?

Loss upon loss

Of relationship.

Of friends.

Of what should be

But isn't.

I stop.

Crushed by the weight

Of it all.

Will it never go away?

Will it always stay?

If it stays

And all the memories too.

Painful. Aching. Stabbing.

Twisting of knife

In wounded heart.

I stop.

I look around.

No help there.

I look at myself.

I need to learn

How to grow around it.

I accept it.

I lean into it.

In the center

Of all the wonderings

And all the grief

I stop.

A glimpse of beauty.

In the sunset.

Birds singing.

Soft breezes blowing.

Pretty flowers.

Tune of a song.

A painting.

A finished project.

A glimpse

Of beauty.

One step forward.

Breathe.

Next step forward.

Breathe.

So the journey continues.

Fed by

Glimpses of beauty.

And

Maybe some day

Bits and pieces

Of deep connection.

And slowly out of the

Weird dawn-dusk

I hope

Will grow

Something so beautiful

It takes one's breath away.

Not just a glimpse

Of beauty

But instead

Beauty that keeps unfolding

Exquisite and rare.

Beauty that vanquishes

All the lies.

All the gossip.

All the abuse.

Makes people eat their words.

Of cruelty.

Of good intentions.

Of unasked for advice.

Of control and manipulation

And gaslighting

And leaves them in awe

Of the One who takes

Trash refused by others

And turns it

Into treasure.