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It’s interesting to me, the way that we can go through life with so many labels stuck to us. None of us are only one thing, we all fill many roles. But I don’t want to discuss roles today. Let’s stick with labels that get stuck to us without our permission. The labels that we’ve internalized and are now a part of us. The labels put upon us by those who want to pass judgment, rather than extend love. The labels that we desperately want to separate ourselves from.

Labels that are nothing more than judgements in disguise. Judgements that break our hearts.

This has been so heavy on my heart lately, because while I’ve worked really hard on my self esteem, when I have a depressive episode, my self esteem plummets and I become extremely sensitive to what people say and what they are not saying. I have an intense awareness of the labels and judgements that other people stick to me.

One thing that is sticking to me right now is the belief that I talk to much. I’ve received many verbal and nonverbal cues that let me know that this is what people are thinking.

The sad part is that I know that they are right and I am definitely over sharing. But the thing is, when I experience depression and anxiety, my worldview becomes skewed. I feel disconnected. I feel alone. But as humans, we need these connections with other people. So in an effort to not feel so alone, I talk, and talk, and talk…and then I talk some more. All I want is to feel a connection to another human being. All I want is for my voice to be heard. For someone to say, “I see you. I understand. I’m going to help you.” These are normal feelings and there’s nothing wrong with trying to connect.

The problem is that I’m currently being indiscriminate in who I share with (this always happens when I’m depressed) which means that I don’t get the responses that I need. Instead I get the message that I talk too much. And by extension, that I AM too much. These are the things that stick. The messages and judgments that I can’t seem to get rid of.

So, not only do I talk too much, but I also talk too loud. My body is too large. I’m too smart. And of course being way too opinionated closely follows that one. I’M JUST WAY TOO MUCH. TOO MUCH OF ME.

These are the things that stick.

These are the labels that have followed me from childhood and on into adulthood. I’ve heard these words from parents, family members, teachers, doctors, nurses, bosses, friends, and even random strangers. Sticking labels to me as if they have the right to judge me.

To all of those people, I only have 3 words: Go Fuck Yourself! How dare you judge and label me as a person. I act appropriately in every situation, but regardless, I have to be me. I refuse to believe the lie that I’m too much. I refuse to tone it down to make my presence more tolerable for you. I happen to think that I’m pretty damn fabulous and like a quote that I’ve seen recently, I will never dim my light just because it’s shining in your eyes.

And yet, as confident as I sound, the thought of being too much breaks my heart and consumes my soul.

These are the things that stick.