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.
