For years, I thought being “easy to love” meant being agreeable. Not asking for too much. Not needing reassurance. Not inconveniencing anyone with my emotions. I confused “low-maintenance” with lovable: as if the less space I took up, the more someone could fit me into their life.
Spoiler: it doesn’t work like that. You can’t shrink your way into being cherished.
And when love kept leaving, I didn’t ask, “Was it enough?” I asked, “Was I too much?” Turns out, I wasn’t. I was just with people who were content offering half and calling it whole.
The “chill girl” myth
At some point, women got sold this lie that the secret to being loved is being “chill.” Don’t overthink. Don’t overfeel. Don’t want too much. Just smile, go with the flow, and for the love of God, never ask “What are we?” too soon. So we tried it. We became experts in pretending not to care. We mastered the art of waiting for the text, laughing it off, and convincing ourselves that crumbs were a meal. But the truth is, being unbothered isn’t sexy when you’re just disconnected. Being “cool” isn’t hot when it’s really just self-abandonment in disguise. You’re not high-maintenance for wanting consistency, clarity, or peace. You’re emotionally literate, and that’s rare in a world that calls detachment “maturity.”
Half love always feels heavy
Half love will always leave you doubting yourself. Half effort, half honesty, half presence, it’s all weight with no foundation. It’s the kind of love that keeps you in a cycle of waiting for more: one more text, one more apology, one more version of them that finally gets it. You keep giving 100% hoping it’ll balance out, but it never does. Because no matter how much you pour into something half-built, it still won’t stand. So if you’ve been told you’re “difficult,” what they really meant was: you noticed the imbalance. You stopped being grateful for effort that barely grazed the bare minimum.
The shift
The day it changes isn’t loud. It’s quiet. It’s the day you stop waiting for people to meet you halfway and start walking the other way. It’s the day peace becomes more attractive than potential. You start recognizing emotional availability as a green flag, not a red one. You stop confusing “he’s busy” with “he’s just not prioritizing you.” You stop performing “easy” and start embodying enough. That’s not being “hard to love.” That’s having standards.
Full love exists, but it starts with you
Here’s the truth no one told you: the people who make you feel like you’re too much are usually the ones giving too little. You were never asking for the moon, just reciprocity.
When you stop settling for half, you don’t become bitter. You become selective. You don’t close your heart, you raise your entry requirements. The right person won’t be intimidated by your depth, they’ll exhale into it. They’ll show up with presence, not promises. And you’ll finally realize, love was never meant to be exhausting.
Journaling prompts: remembering you’re not too much
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Where have I been told to “tone it down”, and what part of me dimmed to fit in?
Reclaim that energy. -
What does “full love” look like to me, not perfect, but reciprocal?
Define it, so you can recognize it. -
When have I mistaken emotional hunger for chemistry?
Trace the pattern. -
What does peace feel like in love, and how do I protect it?
Make calm your new metric. -
What would it look like to be loved in the same way I love?
Picture that, it’s already on its way.
You were never hard to love. You just finally stopped mistaking crumbs for a feast.