The Price Tag of “Too Much” and “Not Enough”

I want to talk about something important.

There is a hidden price of not knowing you’re an n’betweener.

Not seeing yourself clearly comes at a painful cost — it breeds limiting beliefs, the kind that quietly turn into internalized oppression.

Let’s talk about the journey that you most likely have been on.

As a kid: You notice early on that you’re “different.”

Your family speaks languages others don’t. Your skin, your name, your culture don’t line up neatly with the people around you. Or maybe you’re told you’re “too loud,” “too much,” or asked “why are you like that?”

There is often no language for being too much or not enough

Without language for it, you assume the problem is you.

Cost? missed opportunities for activities, enrichment, and confidence-building.

Deeper cost: the innocence of belonging gone too soon.

As a teenager: You shape-shift to survive. You silence yourself, say “sure” when you mean “no,” and play roles to fit in.

You learn how to blend in depending on the room. You tone parts of yourself down, or exaggerate others, hoping to be accepted.

Inside, you carry the ache: why can’t I just belong like everyone else?

Without language, you confuse survival strategies for your personality.

Cost? scholarships, leadership programs, opportunities you don’t even apply for.

Deeper cost: authentic self-expression, buried.

As a young adult: The cost grows heavier. You work twice as hard to prove yourself — because people question you. You’re exhausted from translating and explaining who you are.

Without language, you mistake complexity for brokenness.

You overwork, thinking you have to prove yourself. You accept jobs that undervalue you, stay in roles that drain you, say yes to work that isn’t aligned.

Cost? burnout and underpayment.

Deeper cost: the spark of joy dimmed by the weight of proving yourself.

And now, as an adult: You may look successful, but you still question your worth. Negotiating feels terrifying, raising your rates feels impossible, and dreaming bigger feels selfish.

Inside you carry loneliness — even in a crowded room. Self-doubt — questioning if you’re ever “enough.” Exhaustion — trying to hold it all together without anyone really seeing you.

Without language, you internalize: I must be the problem. I’m not enough.

Cost? every undervalued contract, every “no” you didn’t give, every dream you delayed.

Deeper cost: Trust in yourself.

The cost of not knowing is high. The gain of knowing is priceless.

Because here’s the thing: those stories you carried —

“You’re not enough.”

 “You’re too much.”

“You’ll never belong.”

— were never the truth.

They were reflections of a world that couldn’t hold your complexity.

They were limiting beliefs, not who you are.

When you know you’re an n’betweener®, you finally see it. You begin to separate the story you were told from the truth of who you are.

 It is possible to heal this. To unlearn the stories you were told. To change the belief systems that kept you small.

You can heal — and reclaim the parts of you that were never broken to begin with.

What is the cost you’re experiencing right now? Where do you feel like you're too much and not enough? I'd love to hear more.