I Wasn’t Too Much—They Just Weren’t Enough: Unlearning the Myth of Being 'Difficult

For the longest time, I believed I was the problem.

I was “too sensitive,” “too emotional,” “too outspoken,” “too needy.” That word—too—haunted me. It followed me like an unwanted nickname. In relationships, at work, in friendships, I constantly felt like I was walking on eggshells just to keep everyone comfortable. And when I finally spoke up about my boundaries, discomforts, or needs, I was met with blank stares, raised eyebrows, or the classic passive-aggressive sigh.

I internalized it. I wore it like a badge. I was difficult. I was hard to love. I was “a lot.”

But turns out—I was never difficult. I was just loud about my needs in a world that benefits from my silence.

It started with small things.

I remember being 8 years old and asking a teacher if I could sit away from the window because the sunlight gave me headaches. She waved me off with a, “You’ll be fine, don’t be dramatic.” So I learned to shrink into discomfort. I learned early that voicing my needs made me annoying.

Fast forward to my twenties, and this played out everywhere.

In relationships, I was the girlfriend who “overanalyzed” when I asked for more emotional availability. I’d express how being left on read for days made me feel insignificant, and I’d hear, “Why do you always have to make a big deal out of everything?”

In jobs, when I spoke up about being overworked or about needing more time to complete a project, I was seen as “not a team player.” I watched others stay quiet and get ahead, while I stayed honest and got sidelined.

For years, I molded myself to fit. I spoke softly. I made myself agreeable. I praised others before myself. I tolerated discomfort so others wouldn’t have to.

Until one day—I burned out. Emotionally, physically, spiritually. I was running on fumes. I was living a version of myself that was palatable but painfully inauthentic.

Then something changed.

It wasn’t a grand epiphany or a dramatic wake-up call. It was a quiet realization during a therapy session. My therapist asked, “What would happen if you believed that your needs are valid?”

I didn’t know how to answer. That sentence sat with me like a seed in soil, and over the next few months, it grew into something I hadn’t felt in years: permission.

Permission to take up space. Permission to stop apologizing for having needs. Permission to ask, without shame, for what would make me feel safe, heard, valued.

So I started small.

I said no to a social gathering when I felt drained—and didn’t make up an excuse.
I asked my partner to communicate daily—not because I was clingy, but because connection matters to me.
I told my boss I wasn’t available after work hours—and didn’t flinch when it made her uncomfortable.
I started standing up for the little girl who wasn’t allowed to move her seat by the window.

It wasn’t easy. The first few times I was met with confusion or defensiveness. But slowly, something incredible happened: I began attracting people who didn’t make me feel like too much. People who saw my honesty as strength, not annoyance. Spaces where being direct wasn’t rude—it was respected.

I used to think being “easygoing” made me lovable. But now, I know being authentic is what makes me magnetic.

And I’ve learned that people who benefit from your silence will always call you difficult when you begin to speak.

I share this story not because I’ve mastered it—there are still moments when I hesitate before expressing myself, still flashes of that old fear of being “too much.” But now, I remind myself: I’m not too much. I’m just clear. I’m just aware. I’m just worthy.

Being loud about your needs isn’t a flaw—it’s a sign of self-respect. And I wish someone had told me sooner that you don’t have to earn that right.

So to the person reading this, wondering if you're too complicated, too demanding, or too expressive—I offer you this:

You’re not difficult.
You’re not broken.
You’re not too much.

You’re just finally showing up as someone who won’t shrink anymore.

And that’s a beautiful, powerful thing.