As a woman, my intensity has always been a source of great fear for me, if not embarrassment and shame.

It has always seemed ugly, glaring, overwhelming.

It’s too much.

I’m too much.

Too passionate. Too emotional. Too extreme. Too loud.

In a word, too intense.

How could I allow myself to be expansive and expressive in a world where that somehow didn’t feel okay? Especially because, as a woman, I’m supposed to be small, tiny and meek. I’m supposed to hide my real-ness, my raw-ness.

How could I allow myself to be wild and free in a world where that was anything but encouraged? Especially because as a woman, I’m supposed to be proper and thinking mostly of others, never putting my own needs first.

I’ll give you a hint: the word “allow” has no part in this.

No part at all.

It’s not about thinking.

It’s not even about saying “fuck it” or getting aggressive.

It’s about taking action.

Plain and simple.

It’s taking action regardless of anything, because you feel, in your gut that is what you need to do.

It’s owning your intensity, your sadness, your pain, your fire, your fragility and your happiness, and showing it all to the world—unedited.

It’s considering yourself first, always, no matter fucking what, even when other people need you or you think you’re being selfish.

It’s telling yourself to put the brakes on suppression mechanisms.

It’s refusing to ever suffocate your feelings, needs, opinions, desires, wants, sadness, happiness, highs, lows, ups, downs or anything in between.

It’s about doing what you truly want despite your fear of being “too loud” or “too intense” or “too much.”

I want to live wild and free and I’m tired of stupid shit like this encumbering me.

Fuck, we all deserve to be free!

Because really, what does “too intense” and “too much” and even mean?

They doesn’t mean a damn thing to me, so I’m flushing their perceived power right down the toilet.

Will you join me?

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Editor: Travis May

Photo: Flickr/Rob