You Are Not Too Much

"Too Sensitive, Too Emotional, Too Much”: Reclaiming What Was Never Wrong With You

How many of us have been told, at some point in our lives, that we're “too sensitive,” “too emotional,” or simply “too much”? Maybe those words were said outright, or maybe they were implied—in the eye rolls, the silence, the withdrawal. Maybe it was gaslighting, maybe it was guilt-tripping you or shaming you.

And how did that shape you?

Did you start second-guessing your feelings?

Did you stop expressing your wants, needs, or hurts?

Did you start to ignore them altogether?

Maybe your relationships now reflect a fierce independence—never asking for help, never needing anyone, secretly believing that everyone will let you down.

Or maybe you’ve become a serial caretaker—always anticipating others’ needs, molding yourself around their comfort and afraid that one day they will realize that they don’t need you anymore.

Whatever shape it took, the toll adds up. When we suppress our needs or deny ourselves the chance to be seen, we begin to believe our needs aren’t valid—or worse, that we’re a burden for having them at all. Eventually we lose ourselves in others, and forget who are at all.

What Happens When Conflict Arises?

Does it feel like an opportunity to connect and deepen trust? Or does it feel like a trip wire that if you’re not careful enough you will set off?

Do you find yourself spiralling into self-blame—telling yourself you should’ve done it differently, been less this, more that?

Do you do anything to mask that gnawing feeling or  voice inside saying “This is your fault,”thrusting you into an anxious fix it mode?

Are you afraid that if you push the other person too hard that they will leave you?

Brick Walls, Jellyfish, and Backbones

In high school, I learned a simplified model of communication. It used three images: a brick wall, a jellyfish, and a backbone.

I was raised in a more of brick wall environment—unyielding, cold, all boundaries and authoritarian style of parenting expecting obedience. Children were believed to not see, hear or be affected by the adult things going on around them and were denied their own thoughts, feelings, emotions, and needs. I learned to mask my feelings, to say what I believed others wanted to hear.

These tendencies followed me into adulthood and I carried a lot of shame that I would always fawn instead of leaving or fighting back.

Becoming a jellyfish is not exactly a choice. At these young developmental stages,  survival behaviours become encoded as patterns and dynamics that entrench so deep that they become what we believe is our personhood. This happens unconsciously and simply wishing it were otherwise - that we could suddenly will ourselves into self-love, self-respect or assertiveness has never worked.

We trick ourselves into thinking it is about the simple act that other people seem to be able to do with ease - just say no when someone violates a boundary, lies to you, disrespects you, hurts you, undermines, belittles, takes advantage. Why do we feel hijacked when our mind starts to minimize these behaviours or boundary violations, making excuses for them or believing their lies?

It is not that easy because denial is operating on a deeper level, activated in our nervous system and performing a survival function to keep us safe, whether it is working or not. We carry with us old wounding that is triggered by old survival beliefs that we are unlovable, defective, worthless and we are to blame. We are petrified that we will be found out and overcompensate to prevent that from ever happening.

The human need to feel safe and secure in the eyes of another turns on us, when we take the short cut to this by becoming someone we are not. This is a false sense of safety and security because we have denied and silenced our truest self.

And the same pattern plays out again and again. Afraid to take up space. Afraid to be “too much.” Afraid to rock the boat.

How Did We Get This Way?

Not everyone wants to trace their struggles back to childhood—and that’s a valid choice. But sometimes, to understand why we show up in relationships the way we do, we have to acknowledge the environment we adapted to.

If you grew up in a home where calm could turn to chaos without warning—where you learned to keep the peace, avoid setting off the next explosion, and erase your own needs just to stay safe—then your current struggles make perfect sense.

You may now find yourself in relationships that aren’t overtly abusive, but still leave you walking on eggshells, absorbing the blame, fearing abandonment, and believing that their behavior is somehow your fault.

You Were Never “Too Much.” They Were Not Enough for You.

Many of these messages start in childhood, delivered by people who didn’t have the capacity to meet your needs—because they were overwhelmed, emotionally immature, or battling their own pain.

Sometimes, your emotional responses were big—but that doesn’t make them wrong. Sometimes, your feelings were intense—but that doesn’t make them invalid.

Often, “you’re too sensitive” really means: “I can’t handle your emotions.”That’s not your failure. It is their incapacity to be present or attentive to your needs when you needed them most.

What Now?

Most of us have some insight into why and how our caregivers became to be the way they were. Transgenerational trauma is much better understood these days. Healing doesn't mean blaming the past, it means understanding it so we can stop repeating it.

It means learning how to reconnect with our needs, express our emotions with compassion, and ask for what we need without shame.

It means building relationships that feel like safety, no performance.

Like home, no like walking on eggshells

You are not too much and you were never too much. You may have simply been too much for people who had too little to give.

There’s often a deep, gnawing fear that you are the problem—That if people really saw the full extent of your emotions, they’d turn away, leave, mock your pain, or make you feel stupid for even having it. And maybe, for some of us, that’s exactly what’s happened.

But the truth is, those big feelings have always been there. Whether you’ve learned to hide them or tried to quiet them down to seem more palatable, they haven’t disappeared. We have learned to numb them out with alcohol, drugs, sex, relationships, self harm – but they're still inside you because they matter. They’re valid. These are the parts of ourselves that are showing us love, They’re your internal signals, trying to protect and guide you.

Rejection, abandonment, and humiliation strike at the heart of our deepest wounds—and we’ll go to incredible lengths to avoid feeling them again. Even if it means silencing our needs, shapeshifting, or turning against ourselves.  And ultimately, it’s not others who abandon us—it’s the self-abandonment that cuts the deepest.

The way out starts with rebuilding. Learning how to speak up for yourself. Setting boundaries. Communicating with clarity and self-respect. But none of that works unless you start with the belief that you are already enough, already worthy—just as you are.

You are worthy—even if no one ever told you that when you needed to hear it most. And you're no less worthy now. These patterns aren’t who you are; they’re habits your nervous system learned to stay safe.

And the first step in unlearning them?

Begin by showing up for yourself.

Validate your experience.

Give yourself the safety and security to be exactly who you are.

Reclaim your voice.

Reaffirm your right to take up space.