How Much Is Too Much?

By Shraddha Ahuja Ramani

Sometimes, it just creeps up on you.

Not as a dramatic breakdown. Not as a loud rebellion.

But in a quiet moment —
When you’re washing dishes you didn’t dirty.
When you’re smiling through a gathering you didn’t want to attend.
When you’re scrolling through your phone, feeling lonelier with every scroll.

You pause.

And you ask yourself —
How much is too much?

No one really teaches us how to recognize that point.
We’re just expected to stretch… a little more. Give… a little more. Adjust… always.

But where do you stop without feeling guilty?

I. Society: The Art of Shrinking Yourself Gracefully

You wear sleeves in summer because people “talk.”
You say “I’m fine” even when you’re not, because drama isn’t dignified.
You laugh a little less loudly, love a little less openly, cry only behind closed doors.

Because society never says it loud — but it whispers enough:
“Don’t be too much.”

They call you rebellious if you speak your mind.
Careless if you choose yourself.
Difficult if you don’t blend in.

And slowly, you start editing yourself — like you’re a draft that’s never final.

But how much of yourself can you keep cutting before you disappear?

II. Culture: When Belonging Feels Like Burden

Culture is beautiful — until it starts choking you.

When rituals become rules.
When customs become conditions.
When expectations are older than your dreams.

You want to wear red. But you’re a widow.
You want to dance. But it’s a day of mourning.
You want to say no to a fast. But you’re a good daughter-in-law, aren’t you?

You’re told this is love. This is legacy.

But sometimes, it feels like a trade — give us your individuality, we’ll give you approval.

What do you do when the very roots you grew from begin to strangle you?

III. Politics: When Even Silence Isn’t Safe Anymore

Once, politics was in newspapers.

Now, it’s in your food. Your faith. Your face.

Say something — and you’re “anti-national.”
Say nothing — and you’re complicit.

You’re cautious about every sentence, every post, every opinion.
Not because you’re unsure, but because you’re scared.
Because disagreement is no longer a conversation — it’s a crime.

Even love has to pass loyalty tests now.

What happens when freedom becomes performance and fear becomes habit?

IV. Emotion: The Ache That Doesn’t Show Up in Scans

Love isn’t supposed to feel like labour. But often, it does.

You remember birthdays no one remembers yours on.
You say sorry just to avoid another argument.
You tiptoe in your own house.

You keep giving — affection, patience, understanding —
until giving feels like bleeding.

And still, you convince yourself:
“This is love. This is what people do for each other.”

But is it really love if it empties you?

There’s a loneliness that’s louder in company.
A silence that sits heavier than words.
A tiredness you can’t explain.

How much staying is too much when leaving is the only thing keeping you alive inside?

V. The Digital Self: Always On, Rarely Okay

You’re online. But are you okay?

You reply to texts instantly, post regularly, smile in selfies —
but your eyes are tired. Your mind, messier than your gallery.

You say “BRB” but never really leave.
Work seeps into dinner. Instagram filters seep into self-worth.

You’re exhausted. But resting feels like falling behind.

When did presence start feeling like pressure?

VI. Money: The New Measure of Existence

You don’t want a lot. Just enough to breathe.

But somehow, even that feels greedy.

You work, save, sacrifice — yet it’s never enough.

You dream of holidays but settle for groceries.
You buy gifts but never get one.
You meet every deadline but miss every moment.

And those who “make it”? They’re often lonelier. Tired in better clothes.

Who decided that survival must look like success?

VII. Gender: The Roles We’re Told to Rehearse Forever

Men must not cry.
Women must not speak up.
Children must not question.
Elders must not be wrong.

You play your part.
You wear your role.
You smile through the discomfort.

Because “this is how it has always been.”
But isn’t it strange — how everyone’s tired, but no one wants to change the script?

Who wrote these roles, and why are we still auditioning?

So Really… How Much Is Too Much?

Maybe it’s when your “yes” starts tasting like resentment.
Maybe it’s when “normal” feels like numb.
Maybe it’s when you look in the mirror and don’t recognize the person staring back.

That’s when it’s too much.

And maybe — that’s when it’s time.

To speak up.
To stop.
To walk away.
To choose yourself, unapologetically.

Because…

You don’t owe anyone your exhaustion.
You don’t have to break to be loved.
You are allowed to say — “I have carried enough.”

Author’s Note

From the heart of a woman who’s had to ask herself this too many times.

This piece wasn’t just written — it was lived.

Through years of silent compromise, tearful tea breaks, masks worn at family dinners, and moments when I smiled for others while quietly disappearing inside myself.

“How much is too much?” — I’ve asked this question in the mirror. In prayer. In poetry. In pain.

If this piece reaches you at a time when you’re questioning your own limits — know this:
You are not selfish for choosing your sanity.
You are not wrong for needing rest.
You are not weak for walking away from what breaks you.

You deserve a life that doesn’t require you to dilute your truth.
You deserve love that doesn’t demand your silence.

Thank you for reading — and more than that, thank you for feeling.

With empathy, always,
Shraddha Ahuja Ramani