Make Room.

Standing in front of my tiny yet jammed packed closet I held the vintage sequin jacket up for comparison "..but is this too much?" I contemplated. I mean it IS New Year's, and that's what sequins are for. You know, being a touch over the top.

Concerns of being "too much" were nothing new to me, I've heard it all my life. Too LOUD. Too talkative. Too much make-up. Too dressed up. Too ambitious. Too eager to lead. Too controlling. Filled to the brim with TOO MANY DREAMS. So naturally the sand would meet the sea and the voices of others quickly collided into my own until I started questioning moments frequently, those both seemingly insignificant and others impactful. Most days sure I was being too much of whatever and should let so-in-so take the reigns. Own the spotlight. Lead the way. I would even ask others for their input on my TOO MUCHNESS. I'd leave it to someone else to be centerstage, but not me. I yearned to be valued, so I decidedly would sit back and groom myself, diving into achievement and perfectionism, only allowing the "too [talkative] [leading] [knowledgable]" side of myself come out when deemed 1000% necessary. And this was not often. Unless it was a case of a fashion dilemma. Or a pair of iridescent hologram ottomans which are, in fact, perfect and couldn't be too much even if you added a 4 foot shimmery bow and pom pom trim. Those things are a Christmas miracle. Photos soon. 

"Make room for others." It's this kind of ridiculous self-sacrifice that has me turning down an offer of help when I'm clearly struggling to carry a million things, or that has heaven knows why caused me to turn down a gracious tip without even thinking (twice!). "Make yourself small" the unconscious tug would direct me. Or mostly, as Hayley Morgan so perfectly put it in her book Wild and Free, that "living at my full capacity would make....[insert other people] insecure about their abilities. I shouldn't be too big or make [other people] feel too small. " 

head in the clouds photo by Ashley Goodwin

This, along with the desire for a change of pace and urge to do work things my way, has left me quiet in several forefronts of my life. In blogging, in case you haven't noticed. In posting online, which, let's be for real, I could do without forever so no regrats* there. And ultimately in sharing testimonies and the GOOD NEWS OF THE LORD! Yes, I said that loud and proud and with quite the twang.* But just days before a social media fast (yes, I am on a fast but still blogging. A sistah gotta make some loopholes) I prayed for a "word for the year" and, as He often does the Lord answered loud and clear. 

"SPEAK" He said. Actually I said, but I didn't come up with it. He did. And then I cried. Cried because I knew what speak meant. Not just be a speaker, but one day that will probably come too because, well as you've learned I TALK "TOO MUCH", but to share and testify. Again. You gotta say that in your head like a southern baptist preacher. TES-ti-FY! I've had a break to get my thoughts together, take a breath and now it is time to press forward, perfect or not. To just put fingers to keys, feet to streets and GO. 

I slipped on the sequin jacket, topped it with a not-so-understated gigantic necklace and headed out the door. Too much is just enough for me. And in the wise words of Pitbull, "Thinking that the sky was the limit
'Til I figured out there was footprints on the moon
Now I'm like get out the way... move!"

 

 

 

*hope you caught that

*hope you heard that.