I have a big heart. At least that’s what people say. Sometimes they say it like it’s a compliment. Sometimes they say it like it’s a warning.
But if I’m being honest, there are days when I hate it.
Having a big heart sounds beautiful in theory. It sounds like kindness, empathy, and love. But living with it can feel exhausting. Because when you feel things deeply, you don’t just love deeply. You also overthink deeply, worry deeply, and hurt deeply.
I overthink a lot. More than I should.
A simple message left on read can make my mind create a hundred different stories. A small change in someone’s tone can make me wonder if I did something wrong. My mind keeps replaying conversations, analyzing words, trying to find hidden meanings that may not even exist.
Sometimes I wish I could turn that part of my brain off.
And then there’s the way I apologize too much. I say sorry for things that are not even my fault. Sorry for taking up space. Sorry for expressing how I feel. Sorry for situations I had no control over in the first place.
It’s almost like I carry this quiet fear of disappointing people, even when I haven’t done anything wrong.
Another thing about having a big heart is that I forgive too easily.
Even when someone hurts me, a part of me still tries to understand them. I tell myself maybe they didn’t mean it. Maybe they were going through something. Maybe they didn’t realize the impact of their actions.
And sometimes that compassion becomes my weakness. Because while I am busy trying to understand people, they are not always trying to understand me.
I also worry too much about people who don’t worry about me at all.
I check if they are okay. I wonder if they ate, if they slept well, if something is bothering them. I give my time, my energy, and my care without thinking twice.
But the painful part is realizing that not everyone thinks like that. Not everyone gives the same energy back.
Some people simply take what you offer and move on.
Then there is the guilt. The strange kind of guilt that appears even when nothing is actually your fault. I find myself feeling responsible for situations I couldn’t control. For people’s moods, for things that went wrong, for emotions that were never mine to carry.
It’s a heavy feeling, holding responsibility for things that were never yours.
And beneath all of this, there is a quiet loneliness.
Not because I don’t meet people, but because I sometimes wonder if I will ever find someone who loves the way I do. Someone who feels deeply, cares deeply, and stays deeply.
Someone who does not see my big heart as something overwhelming, but as something worth protecting.
That fear sits quietly in the back of my mind. The fear that maybe I give more love than most people are willing to give back.
But maybe having a big heart is not a curse after all.
Maybe it just means that one day, when the right person finally arrives, they won’t find something too much.
They will find something rare.