Being "Too Much"

Last week an interviewer asked me, "How do the people in your life deal with your intensity?"

I was a little taken aback by his use of "deal with." It seemed to imply that the "intensity" he was pointing to was some kind of burden or flaw, something to be managed or tolerated.

But what puzzled me most was the fact that I could be surprised by the question, could somehow (repeatedly) have amnesia about the fact that others have often found me too "intense"- too focused on (if not obsessive about) certain subjects and activities (creativity, spirituality, psychology, the inner life, writing etc.,) and relentlessly curious about how to live fully and deeply who and what we are.

Pausing for a moment, I considered his question. My ex-husband came to mind.

When Jeff and I married over a decade ago, we each wrote our own vows, and heard the other's for the first time during the ceremony. Jeff included in his vows a modified line from my poem, "The Invitation," vowing to, "Stand in the centre of the fire with you and not shrink back."

Ten years later as our marriage was ending, driven by the mistaken belief that understanding might ease my pain, I asked him (not for the first time) to tell me why he'd lied throughout the relationship. He had already conceded that there had been many more lies- about things that mattered and things that didn't- than the ones I’d stumbled across (and we’d agreed that I didn’t need to hear about all of them now.) What I did want was to understand why he had lied so consistently, why he had- in my mind- made and broken a vow to be truthful.

I reminded him about this part of his wedding vow. "You said you'd stand in the fire with me, but there has never been a time- even on our wedding day- when you weren't lying about something."

He looked genuinely shocked. "Standing in the fire with you had nothing to do with telling the truth."

I honestly could not imagine what else it could have meant (which I suppose is the down-side of using something your partner wrote in your vows- she's bound to have a very particular idea about what the line means, since she wrote it!)

Baffled I asked, "Well, if it wasn't about telling the truth, what was it about?"

Without hesitation he replied, "It was about tolerating your intensity! It was a vow to stick it out, to endure despite the fact that you're always too intense about everything!"

Of course, it was easier to hear that an interviewer I didn't know was implying that my intensity might be less than wonderful than it had been to realize that my then-husband had seen this quality in me as something difficult to be endured and tolerated, as (in his techno-speak) a bug and not a feature.

When I tried to respond to the interviewer last week, all I could do was laugh. It started out as a chuckle of recognition that someone else’s assumptions about my so-called “intensity” had nothing to do with me, but it rippled quickly into a real giggle as I realized that the accusation of intensity simply no longer has any power over me. I was delighted to discover how deeply I now accept that who I am is someone some others will sometimes see as too intense.

We all want to be seen and appreciated for who we are. And yes, even I can see how my intensity does at times wear me out, cause social awkwardness and ask a great deal from those who want to meet on mutual ground. It also makes me deeply passionate and enthused about living life fully.

The truth is, our ability to live fully and enjoy the life we have been given is dependent, not upon how others see us, but upon self-acceptance. Deep self-acceptance can turn chuckles and giggles into deep belly laughs that might leave some others truly baffled. And that really is okay with me.

Oriah (c) 2013