I haven’t always been a bit much.

Those who know me, know that I’m a woman who wears a array of hats: Artist, Chef, Fashion-Maven, Animal Defender, Writer, Social Worker, Lipstick Addict, Vintage and Fishnet Lover, Ravenous Traveler, Shoe-Floozie.

I wear all these hats passionately.

Some would say (well some have said) it is all a Bit Much.

Maybe it is a Bit Much…….I. Can’t. Help. Myself.

Story: No matter the task, I start every day pumped with passion, ideas, and good, strong coffee. Among the many hats that I have professionally worn: overseeing the well-being of active older adults. I loved it, and I was good at it—a combination that will almost certainly lead to a promotion; which is exactly what happened. My first project: train the young woman—-let’s call her Jane—-replacing me—-a task I approached with my usual firey passion (like I said: I can’t turn it off).

Jane and I are very different individuals. I am quietly animated, but display passion unabashedly: bold red lipstick, 5-inch heels, fishnets, kimonos, vintage dresses—-you get the picture. Focused, professional demeanor swathed in a disparate palate of color, texture and intrigue. Fashion-wise, my trainee was pretty much my polar opposite. If I was a Technicolor gypsy with secret access to MGM Studios’ wardrobe warehouse, Jane was the Power-Point business presentation designed in subdued earth tones and lots of footnotes. Jane was low-key and austere. And, that’s OK. What’s less than OK: If Jane was saving her passion for the needs of the human beings she was hired to serve, that was never outwardly displayed either.

Unsurprisingly, six months later, she gave her notice.

But, Jane’s short stay gave me a gift so valuable that I almost sent her my favorite vintage print I purchased at a flea market along the Seine River over 15 years ago. Not long after her departure, a colleague recounted the following exchange between her and Jane:

Colleague: “You know, you can always lean on Pam.”

Jane: (lip curled, eye roll) “Hmmmmm. She’s a bit much.”

Damn right, I’m a Bit Much.

My brother and I were raised by a single father. We were poor. ‘Gas and electricity shut off for non-payment’ kind of poor. We went to bed hungry. We wore Salvation Army couture—-including shoes that were so big, I frequently tripped over my own feet. I had no mother. I looked like a boy. Back then, instead of being a bit much, I kept quiet. I did not ruffle feathers. I was as far from a Bit Much as one can be.

I lost my father, my only parent, to cancer when I was still a teenager.

I was homeless in college.

I lost my brother to his demons when he was 27 years-old.

There was so much that tried to quell the fire in my soul. And for many years, that passion was held prisoner to the realities of my life.

But…..Slowly, over the years, I healed. I dug in and found the treasure. I peeled the layers; layer by layer. Soul-search by Soul-search. I blossomed. I exploded. I became Me.

All the women I adore are a Bit Much in their own unique way. Fact is—external or internal—we’re all a Bit Much….

Cheers to being a Bit Much!