Sometimes a song doesn’t arrive as a fully formed idea. It slips in sideways. A single line. A feeling you can’t shake. A truth that feels a little too loud to say out loud.

For me, one of those moments came wrapped in a lyric that hit harder than I expected:

“If I’m too much, go find less.”

I can’t take credit for that line — it comes from Elyse Meyers — but the second I heard it, it felt like someone had reached into my chest and put words to something I’d been carrying for a long time.

Even though I’d had similar thoughts, I’d never said them that clean, that sharp. That honest.

And that’s what stuck with me.

Because it didn’t come from confidence. Not at first. It came from that raw, uncomfortable place where you realize how often you’ve been shrinking yourself to fit into spaces that were never built for you.

I’ve spent years being a lot of things to a lot of people. Mom. Wife. Student. Teacher. The reliable one. The strong one. The one who keeps it all together. And somewhere in all of that, there were pieces of me I kept sanding down. Softer. Quieter. Easier to hold.

More “acceptable.”

But that line? That line was the snap.

It was the moment the narrative shifted from “Am I too much?” to “Why am I apologizing for being enough?”

That’s where the song started to take shape.

—

The First Spark

When I wrote that lyric, I wasn’t thinking about structure or genre or where it would fit. I was thinking about every time I bit my tongue. Every time I softened a truth. Every time I made myself smaller so someone else could stay comfortable.

That one line carried all of that.

So instead of building a song around an idea, I built the idea around that line.

What does it look like to stop apologizing?

What does it sound like to own your edges instead of hiding them?

What does it feel like to finally say, this is who I am — take it or leave it?

—

Letting It Get a Little Wild

At first, the song leaned reflective. Almost restrained. But the more I sat with it, the more I realized that wasn’t honest.

Because the truth isn’t quiet.

The truth, for me, was a little feral.

It had teeth.

It laughed too loud. It made questionable choices. It lit the match instead of walking away from the fire.

So I leaned into that.

I let the verses get bolder. Messier. More unapologetic. I stopped trying to make the narrator likable and started making her real.

That’s when the song found its voice.

—

Writing for Me, Not for Approval

There’s a version of songwriting where you’re always thinking about the listener. What will they like? What will land? What will sell?

And then there’s the version where you tell the truth first.

This song demanded the second version.

It wasn’t about being polished. It wasn’t about being palatable. It was about being honest in a way that felt a little dangerous.

Because if I’m being real, the line “If I’m too much, go find less” isn’t just a lyric.

It’s a boundary.

It’s a declaration.

It’s a refusal to keep editing myself down to a version that’s easier for someone else to hold.

—

The Shape It Took

By the time the song settled into itself, it wasn’t soft anymore.

It had grit. A little swagger. A little chaos.

It became a kind of anthem for that version of me that doesn’t ask permission anymore.

The one who knows exactly who she is — even when that’s inconvenient.

Especially then.

—

Why It Matters

I think we all have a version of ourselves we’ve been told is “too much.”

Too loud. Too emotional. Too driven. Too complicated. Too honest.

And we learn, over time, how to file those edges down.

But here’s the thing I’ve learned through writing this song:

The parts of you they call “too much” are usually the parts that are most you.

And maybe the goal isn’t to fix that.

Maybe the goal is to finally stand in it.

Fully.

Unapologetically.

And if that’s too much for someone?

They’re free to go find less.

—

That’s where this song came from.

Not from perfection.

From truth.

And honestly? That’s the only place worth writing from anymore.

—

The Line That Lit It (Full Circle)

And it still takes me back to that line I didn’t write, but absolutely claimed in spirit — the one from Elyse Meyers that put words to what I’d been circling for years.

Because sometimes the most powerful thing isn’t inventing the truth.

It’s recognizing it when you hear it.

And having the guts to build something honest in response.

—

Lyrics Excerpt

Verse I bent myself to fit the frame Cut my edges, dulled my flame Smiled nice and played it safe Just to keep the peace in place

Pre-Chorus But something in me finally broke Somewhere between the hush and choke

Chorus If I’m too much, go find less I’m done drowning in second-guess I won’t shrink to ease your mind Take it or leave it, this is mine Strike the match, watch it burn I ain’t got a damn thing left to learn If I’m fire you can’t confess If I’m too much, go find less

Bridge A little wild, a little free A little more of who I’m meant to be No more trimming down the truth No more asking for your proof

—

That’s the song that came out of it.

Not borrowed. Not copied. But sparked — by a line that told the truth so clearly, I couldn’t ignore it.

Navigating the Personal Journey of Loss

Grief is a profound, often overwhelming experience that touches all of our lives at some point. It’s a deeply personal journey that can emerge from various types of loss—whether the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, or even the loss of a dream or opportunity. Understanding grief as a lifelong process rather than a linear event can help us navigate its complexities with compassion for ourselves and others.

The Nature of Grief

Grief is not just an emotion; it encompasses a range of feelings, thoughts, and reactions. It can manifest as sadness, anger, confusion, guilt, and even relief. Each person experiences grief differently, influenced by their personality, life experiences, and the nature of the loss.

A Personal Journey

One of the most critical aspects of grief is its deeply personal nature. While there are common stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—each individual traverses these stages in their own way and at their own pace. There’s no right or wrong way to grieve; there’s only your way.

Cultural Influences: Cultural backgrounds can shape how we express grief. Some cultures openly mourn, while others may emphasize stoicism. Understanding these differences is vital in supporting those around us.
Support Systems: The presence or absence of a supportive network can significantly impact the grieving process. Friends, family, and even professionals can provide comfort, yet the way we choose to engage with that support is uniquely ours.

Grief as a Lifelong Process

Many people may expect grief to resolve after a certain period, but it often lingers, evolving over time. This understanding can be liberating; it acknowledges that grief doesn’t have a strict timeline and allows for ongoing healing.

Anniversaries and Milestones: Significant dates, like birthdays or anniversaries, can reignite feelings of grief. This resurgence is a natural part of the process and can remind us of the love we still hold for those we’ve lost.
Finding New Meanings: As time passes, the way we relate to our grief may change. We may find ways to honor our loved ones, celebrate their lives, and integrate their memory into our own.

The Greater the Grief, the Greater the Love

One of the most profound truths about grief is that it reflects the depth of our love. The pain we feel is a testament to the bonds we shared. This connection is what makes the journey of grief so significant and transformative.

Embracing Love: Rather than shying away from grief, embracing it can be a way to honor our relationships. Acknowledge the love that underlies the sorrow; it’s this love that shapes our memories and influences who we are.
Creating Legacy: Finding ways to celebrate the life of the person we’ve lost can help channel our grief into something meaningful. This could be through storytelling, creating art, or participating in activities they loved.

Coping with Grief

As we navigate the personal journey of grief, it’s essential to equip ourselves with tools for coping. Here are some strategies that may help:

Allow Yourself to Feel: Give yourself permission to experience all emotions that arise without judgment. Grief is not something to “get over” but something to honor.
Seek Support: Don’t hesitate to reach out for help. Whether through friends, family, or support groups, connecting with others who understand can be immensely comforting.
Express Yourself: Writing, art, and other forms of expression can provide an outlet for your feelings. Journaling about your experience can help you process your emotions.
Practice Self-Care: Grieving can be exhausting. Prioritize self-care through rest, nutrition, and activities that bring you joy or solace.
Consider Professional Help: If grief feels overwhelming, seeking the guidance of a therapist can provide valuable support and coping strategies.

That’s not all folks:

Grief is a complex and deeply personal journey that requires patience and compassion. It is a lifelong process, interwoven with love and memory. Acknowledging that the greater the grief, the greater the love can help us embrace our experiences, honor those we’ve lost, and ultimately find a way to carry their legacy forward in our lives. Remember, you are not alone in this journey; your path is uniquely yours, and it’s okay to take the time you need to heal.

The personal part:

Keeping all of the above in mind, I have become very familiar with grief. It is a personal companion and has been with me since I was 11 years old. My only living grandparent died, my Granny, she was just the best towards me. And she impacted my life in so many ways, from “not sweeping through the middle” to “I love you a bushel and a peck,” helping me count to 100, taking rides through the countryside and everything in between. This is not to discount the losses that followed. It just compounds the grief; I still miss them and all of my other loved ones who are no longer here with me. The grief can be heavy some days. In the beginning, the initial shock, it is kind of easy. Easy, in that no one expects much from you in the beginning. You have the sympathy of everyone around you for your loss, but then it fades. You have to continue to go to work, do laundry, grocery shop, and with each of these tasks you are still very aware that the world you knew has changed forever. But the world keeps spinning even while you are in the throes of grief, life goes on, work still has to be done, bills paid. The routine soothes you a little bit, trying to keep things “normal” while you process what it is that has this grip on you.

The holidays are always the hardest after a loss. Whether it be a birthday, anniversary or the holiday season following Halloween, they can all be hard. You can honor your loved ones and keep the same traditions, it may feel hollow at first, but there will be new meaning in them. This year I am not only facing the holidays without my parents but without 2 members of my village that always helped to pull me back from the brink when things got rough. I didn’t expect to have to traverse life and grief in losing friends that had become family. Losing the sister from another mister, my daily check in text or call, Audra could make me absolutely crazy with some of her theories but at our hearts we both enjoyed food and flavors and cultures and we raised our babies together. We made last minute poodle skirts together. She helped me expand my horizons. We valued critical thinking and doing what’s best for ourselves even if others didn’t understand. She helped me to embrace who I am. Now our youngest babies are freshmen in high school and she isn’t here to navigate this part. Some days are better than others and I think of her adult children each day. I think of her husband, left behind with a teen boy to raise without his mom. I digress. These things are all part of my daily existence.

But in learning to let go, it is especially poignant in the fall. In the fall, trees lose their leaves, as they continue to grow. They become a shell of themselves, but we know that in the spring they sprout new leaves. I am taking a lesson from the trees this year. I am going to let go of things, it is hard work, but it is important work. I am going to let go of the past. I am going to cherish memories of loved ones and prepare myself to move forward in this new existence. I will remember each of them in different ways and on different days, but in letting go of how I thought life would be, I am freeing myself of the immense weight that grief can bear down on me. I will keep old traditions that still serve me and maybe create new ones to celebrate this new chapter of life. I didn’t plan for this journey of grief; I don’t think you can. What you can do is appreciate the time that you have and make the minutes count.

Love and light y’all, it can get dark out there.

Tag: sisterhood

G is for GRIEF