Too

When I was a kid, adjectives used to describe me were often prefaced with “too.” But my favorite words ended in “er.” I distinctly remember declaring myself “Sammy longer-faster-higher (and what other adverb I was currently feeling) Lynagh.” I wanted to experience everything! I wanted to swing so well that I flipped right over the swing set. I wanted to sing the highest note so loud that I was the only one who had to sing it. I wanted to write a novel, train my dog in agility courses, and start a chalk-art based annual charity event. I wanted to do it all. **I still do.

    The funny thing I’ve noticed is that we all commend and idolize those individuals who have done incredible things, but when the people around us want to do these things- we recoil. I’ve come up with a theory: we don’t want to see those close to us go above and beyond because then we will have to question why we don’t ourselves. That’s why we fawn over people who have hiked the Appalachian Trail, built a school in Ecuador, and written a novel by age 19. But, we often try to dilute our own perception of capability to achieve on a grand scale. (Wow that’s a mouthful) So when I wanted to change the world... I was thinking too big. I was trying too hard. Too much talking. Too much effort. Too many dreams. Too many things.

    As I got older those “too’s” started to really hurt. I was too loud, too passionate, too inquisitive—Too. Much. Everyone reacts differently to that kind of reinforcement. For me, I got bigger. A lot of people assume that the natural reaction would be to shrink, but I couldn’t do that. I got as big and as loud as I could. I decided that if you hate how I’m loud, I’m gonna be the loudest, most passionate in your face b*tch you’ve ever seen. I just tried to be the best and biggest I could be. That way I would at least be unforgettable.

    That attitude didn't make me very popular. I became angry at the world and at the people in mine... I thought about giving up all the time. "Why can't I just sit still and be like everybody else?" Sometimes I would try and ended up lashing out or doubling down. I know I pissed a lot of people off and alienated myself along the way. I think sometimes I dug myself into holes just to see if I could get out of them. But I grew. I challenged myself as much as I challenged others-and I can't say I regret that. Because now, I have a collection of letters from people along the way. 

    Every time I took a leap and chose to do something unconventional, I got a letter. Someone saying thank you for being you. For being unafraid and for showing them that it is OK to be different. A big one for me was when I tried out for the local Performing Arts High School (FAC). A lot of people thought it was crazy to even think about leaving my Christian private school that had a 100% admission to college rate. It was even crazier that I was going to try out singing a country song. But I got in. And I left. And the last day of school I got a letter.

    It was from a girl I had been going to school with for 5 years, but had only been close with for a brief period somewhere in the middle. We hadn’t even talked in a while. She started it with some previously unknown exposition: before school even started, she had seen my name on a list for Mrs. Fowler’s fourth grade class. On the first day she had been shocked to discover I had shortened my awesome American-girl-doll name to “Sammy”. A little exposition on my end: I did not have a great time at that school and would describe my experience as generally unwelcome.Years went by and I thought we barely interacted, but I made more of an impact than I realized. She wrote how I had shown her strength in being myself. Despite being bullied, I did not care and did not change. My allegiance to my self helped her find that in her self. I will never forget her. Writing that letter was a kind and brave act of vulnerability that still fuels me today.

    My letters have accumulated into a reminder that there are people who appreciate and benefit from you doing something genuine—even if they don’t voice it at the time. I think that's the funniest thing about being 'too' anything; there are a lot of people that are glad you are.

So if I'm 'too' anything, I'll take too far down the rabbit hole to sit still and drink tea. I like me Too Much.