You know, that little voice? The one that pipes up after you’ve, say, unloaded a whole bunch of ideas onto someone, or maybe got a bit too fired up about something you care about? Yeah, that voice. It whispers, “dude, am i too much?” I’ve been hearing that a lot lately, or rather, I’ve been noticing myself hearing it.
It’s not like I’m trying to be a steamroller. Honestly. I just get… enthusiastic. Or I see a way things could be better, and my brain just goes into overdrive. For a long time, I figured, “Hey, passion is good, right? Drive is good!” And then I’d see the glazed-over eyes, or the polite but firm, “Thanks, we’ll consider that,” which is often code for “please stop talking now.”
There was this one time, a few years back, at this community project I was all in on. We were trying to get a local park cleaned up. Great cause. I had spreadsheets, timelines, volunteer rosters drafted before the first official meeting even happened. I thought I was being helpful, super proactive. Turns out, I just made everyone else feel like they were slacking, or like I was trying to take over. Someone actually pulled me aside later and gently said, “You know, you can be a bit… intense.” That one stung. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard something like it, but it was a loud wake-up call.
So, I started a little experiment on myself. My own practice, you could say.
My first step? Shutting up. Seriously. Sounds simple, but for someone whose brain is always buzzing, it was like an Olympic sport. I’d go into meetings or conversations with a mental sticky note: “Listen. Just listen.” Not listen to reply, but listen to understand. What were people actually saying? What were they feeling?
Then, I started watching. Body language, the group dynamics. Who leans in? Who leans out? Who speaks up, and who gets spoken over? It was like learning a new language. I realized I’d been so focused on broadcasting my own signal that I wasn’t picking up any of theirs.
I also started to ask more questions. Instead of “Here’s my ten-point plan!”, I’d try, “What’s the biggest hurdle here for you all?” or “What kind of support would be most helpful from my end?” It shifted things. Slowly. Sometimes it felt like I was walking on eggshells, trying not to be my usual “all-in” self, and frankly, it was exhausting at first.
And here’s what I figured out from this whole process.
I found out that often, my “too much-ness” wasn’t always about the ideas themselves. Sometimes they were actually pretty good, if I say so myself. It was the delivery. The timing. The sheer volume of it. It was like trying to give someone a sip of water from a firehose. Nobody appreciates that, no matter how thirsty they are.
Am I cured? Heck no. It’s a daily thing, this self-awareness practice. There are still days I catch myself revving up, ready to unleash a torrent of thoughts, and I have to consciously throttle back. It’s a balancing act. I don’t want to squash the enthusiasm that makes me, well, me. But I also don’t want to alienate people or make them feel like they can’t keep up or contribute.
I also realized that “too much” is super subjective. For some folks, my energy is exactly what they need or appreciate. For others, it’s… a lot. And that’s okay. Part of this whole journey has been figuring out where my brand of “much” fits best, and where I need to adapt or, sometimes, just step back a little.
So, that question, “am I too much?” It still pops up. But now, it’s less of a panic and more of a check-in. A reminder to read the room, to listen first, and to offer my “muchness” in a way that actually helps, instead of overwhelms. And sometimes, you know what? Being “too much” is precisely what a situation calls for. The trick is learning to tell the difference. It’s a work in progress, always.
