Let’s just get this out of the way: I am a lot. I know it, you probably know it, and my mailman—who I once gave a full-sized Gatorade and a detailed map of the best shade spots in the neighborhood because it was 90 degrees out—definitely knows it.
I saw this quote recently and it hit me like a bag of organic flour. It said: “I’ve overplayed my role more times than I can count.” And I felt that in my soul.
When I say I overplay my role, I don’t mean I’m auditioning for a community theater production of Cats (though I’d make a killer Grizabella). I mean that when I care about someone or something, I don’t just “dip my toe” in the water. I do a full, uncoordinated cannonball into the deep end.
The Anatomy of an “Overplayed Role”
If you tell me you’re having a bad day, I’m not just going to send a “u ok?” text. No, I’m the girl who shows up at your door with a four-course meal, your favorite brand of chocolate that they only sell at that one specific grocery store across town, and a PowerPoint presentation on why your ex is a literal trash fire.
Is it “too much”? Probably. Is it “desperate”? The quote says no, and I’m sticking to that. It’s just how I’m wired.
I used to beat myself up about this. I’d lay in bed at 2:00 AM, staring at the ceiling, thinking, “Tina, why did you offer to help her move her entire three-story house when you have a bad back and a Mini Cooper?” But here’s the thing: I do it because I care for real.
Retiring from the “Main Character” Mystery
We live in a world of “seen” receipts and “let’s play it cool.” Everyone is trying so hard to act like they don’t care, like they’re the “main character” who is too busy being mysterious to actually be a good friend.
I’m over the mystery. I’d rather be the person who cared too much than the person who didn’t care enough. I pour into people because I want to live in a world where people pour back. It’s like a giant, emotional potluck dinner—except I’m bringing the main course, the sides, and the decorative napkins, and sometimes everyone else just brings a half-empty bag of generic tortilla chips.
“At least I know my heart was honest. I stand on that.” — (Me, every time I realize I’ve done the absolute most.)
The Comedy of Being a “Chronic Carer”
Does it hurt? Yeah. Is it “bothersome”? Ask my brain at 3:00 AM when I’m overthinking a conversation I had in 2014.
There’s a certain kind of comedy in being a “chronic carer.” Like the time I spent three hours researching the best vitamins for a guy I’d been on two dates with because he mentioned he felt a little tired. I sent him a link to a $60 supplement regimen. He never texted back.
In hindsight? Hilarious. At the time? I was ready to retire from society and live in a cave with a family of judgmental bats.
A Vow to the “Too Much” People
If you’re reading this and nodding your head, know that you’re my people. We are the ones who make the world a little less cold, even if we occasionally get frostbite in the process. We show up. We love in a way that we want to be loved back.
My Vow to You (and Myself):
- I will continue to be “too much.”
- I will continue to send the long paragraphs.
- I will continue to check in on you.
- And I will continue to stand on the fact that my heart is honest.
Being “Chill” is Exhausting
Because honestly? Being “chill” sounds exhausting. I’d much rather be me.
Does this resonate with you, or are you one of those “normal” people who can actually wait more than three minutes to reply to a text? Let me know in the comments!
You have a beautiful spirit, don’t stop being who you are.