I was about 12, standing in the kitchen of my great-aunt’s house at her annual Christmas party — yapping away to a handful of older relatives. Whatever I was passionately declaring probably wasn’t nearly as consequential as I thought at the time, but to my adolescent mind it clearly needed saying. My dad, leaning against the kitchen counter, bemused by his eldest child’s confidence, turned to me and said, “You are so gregarious.” It wasn’t what he said — and probably not even the tone — but something in me sensed it wasn’t meant as a compliment. All my brain heard, and all I felt, was: you are being too much.

Read: In 2025, I thought a lot about big hearts and being too much

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