As I sat in a class I was leading, a student asked a simple question that left me with a familiar sinking feeling. Looking into his eyes, I could feel my heart drop. The question was not rude. It was simply, “Are you attending the event on campus tonight?”

“I wish I could,” I replied, “but my schedule won’t allow it.”

In that moment, I saw disappointment. Maybe even some judgment. More likely, I saw my own interpretation of the situation reflected back at me. I subconsciously internalized the interaction as, I’m not enough. I’m a disappointment.

As I reflected on that conversation, another incident from a recent faculty meeting came back to mind. During the meeting, I was publicly called out for “doing too much.” It was the third time the same person had publicly raised concerns about my level of involvement.

Looking back, I realize I wasn’t wrestling with the responsibility itself as much as the meaning I attached to the conversation. I found myself wondering how something I had viewed as being a team player and contributor had come to be viewed as “too much.”

Whether that was the intent or not, I began to question how others perceived my involvement. What I had experienced as being a team player and stepping in where needed suddenly felt as though it was being interpreted as overinvolvement. I found myself wondering whether contributions I viewed as helpful were being seen as taking up too much space. Rather than feeling appreciated, I felt ashamed for making them.

In that moment, the message I internalized was simple: you are too much.

My reaction surprised me.

When I spoke up for myself, I experienced feelings of shame and guilt. Standing up for myself is challenging, as I suspect it is for most of us. I often find myself caught in a familiar tension: if I don’t speak up, I’m angry with myself for staying silent; if I do, I worry that I’m being “too much.” Instead of feeling empowered, I found myself spiraling, wondering what others in the room thought of me because I hadn’t simply accepted the redirection and stepped aside.

That both of these experiences centered on the expectations of other people is not lost on me. Yet that is also a reality of life. We live, work, and exist in relationship with others, and their expectations inevitably affect us.

Earlier that same day, I had assigned my students Brené Brown’s TED Talk, The Power of Vulnerability. In the talk, Brown suggests that the difference between those who experience a deep sense of love and belonging and those who struggle to receive it comes down to a sense of worthiness. Those who feel worthy of love and belonging simply believe they are worthy of love and belonging.

Less than 24 hours separated these two experiences. Now, less than 24 hours after the second, I find myself still sitting with them, struck by the contradictory messages I internalized.

In one situation, I walked away feeling as though I was not enough.

In the other, I was left feeling that I was too much.

I suspect I am not alone in experiencing that tension. Many of us spend our lives trying to navigate the space between those competing messages. Is this the human condition?

Is it our culture that encourages us to meet everyone’s expectations? Is it something deeper within us that seeks value through achievement or the approval of others?

Where does our sense of worthiness come from?

As a social worker, I know the answer intellectually. It cannot ultimately come from other people or achievements. It has to emerge from something deeper within ourselves. Until it does, we will continue to be tossed back and forth between feelings of never being enough and being too much.

As I process these experiences, I find myself returning to my personal and professional values. None of them speak about being everything to everyone. None suggest my worth is determined by how many events I attend, committees I serve on, initiatives I lead, or responsibilities I carry.

Yet I still find myself measuring my value through the eyes of others.

That is the tension.

I can know, intellectually, that worthiness comes from something deeper than achievement or approval. Yet knowing something and believing it are not always the same thing.

In less than 24 hours, I was reminded of two competing fears: that I am not enough and that I am too much.

Maybe the real work is resisting both messages.

Less than 24 hours later, that is the question I am still wrestling with.