Too Big for One Vessel: Loving People Too Big to Contain

by Sorilbran

There’s this idea I keep coming back to. It's not polished, but it's true: Sometimes, love means knowing you're not enough—not because you're lacking, but because the person you love is vast.

That’s what I hit on in a scene I wrote for A Random Tuesday. It’s a conversation between Greg and Shauntique - Dia’s best friend - who's struggling to understand why Dia would go back to the man who broke her.

There’s a scene that’s poking at me today. Here’s the breakdown then we’ll walk it out:

Greg is having an unplanned reckoning with Shauntique. She’s just learned the full truth about what happened to Dia - the near-assassination, the miscarriage, the silence - and she’s furious. Not just at what Dia went through, not even at the fact that Dia felt like she had to go through it alone and that she couldn’t trust Greg with it. But at the fact that Dia - a beautiful, compassionate, intelligent powerhouse seems to be falling for her ex again.

Twelve years later.

She’s not asking Greg how broken he was after losing his baby and his girl all in one fell swoop. She doesn’t care. It’s none of her business. And intellectually, she knows that no matter how she tries to explain it to him, he can never understand what it was like to see Dia broken - unsure, unavailable, unable to stop grieving. Blaming herself for a situation that was, in Shauntique’s eyes, 80% Greg’s fault. Easily 80%.

So, she’s frustrated at the situation, and afraid for her friend. And having a hard time putting her finger on Greg. He doesn’t even seem like the kind of man who could be capable of what he put Dia through. And truth be told, Tique genuinely likes Greg. He’s kind, he’s funny, he’s capable, he’s likable. She sees zero red flags. Not even one. And all of that together makes the entire situation unsettling. Because she knows that while she’s grappling with the disconnect between who he was and who he presents himself to be, Dia isn’t - she’s made up her mind.

Greg doesn’t fight Shauntique on it. She’s right to be suspicious. She’s right to give him a hard time. She’s right to try talking her friend out of another round with him. She’s right. But now that he has another shot, he has another shot. 

“Shauntique…” he says carefully, respectfully. “The first chance I get, I'm gonna marry her.”

And he means it—not to spite Shauntique, not to make a point. Just because he loves Dia. Always has. Because he’s ready this time. Because after losing twelve years, he wants his life  back.

Shauntique’s not trying to hear all that. She saw what Dia went through. She’s not about to let her friend fold back into a situation that shattered her once before.

But Greg isn’t asking for permission. He’s asking for space. He tells Tique:

“I want us to get along because she needs more than just me. She’s gonna need you when she gets promoted or wins an award. Or when I do something dumb.She deserves love and companionship and friendship outside of me. There’s so much more to her than just being my wife.”

That’s the line that holds me.

Because he gets it something now that he didn't get the first time around.

Dia is a well. Not just deep—but grounding. Still on the surface, bottomless underneath. She’s the kinda woman people draw from without always realizing it. The kind who can hold space, hold memory, hold silence, hold legacy.

Loving someone like that means understanding that even if you somehow manage to give them every ounce of love you have, they still need more—not because you’re not enough, but because they are so much. Not too much. So much.

They need friends, mentors, collaborators. Running clubs. Late-night phone calls. Solo hikes. Hype squads. Prayer warriors. People who know their old selves and people who believe in who they’re becoming. They need an ecosystem.

And the people who truly love them - no doubt people who have a handle on how to love themselves - make room for that.

For Greg, Dia isn’t a means to an end. Not that he hasn’t done that (in the book, I explore the past that comes back to bite him in the butt). But Dia isn’t the smart girl he’s using to get a thing or do a thing or become a thing. 

Neither is the reverse true. Dia wants him, but she doesn’t need him. And that means they get to intentionally determine the rules of engagement for their relationship. 

Greg never says it outright, but what he’s really trying to tell Shauntique is: “I’m not here to be her everything. I’m here to be her husband. I hope you and the rest of the crew will still be her everything else.”

I wrote it that way because I’ve been on both sides of that dynamic. I’ve had the privilege of standing beside people who are massive talents, great minds, natural comforters, warriors. And I’ve been the one who leans into my own vastness. Bro, I stay feeling like I’m too much. 

“I can’t put my finger on  you,” one says.

“I can’t figure you out,” another says.

Those are memorable quotes, but people rarely voice such resignation. Most of the time, they’re quiet. Distant. Even avoidant.

I’ve spent a lifetime watching people try to love someone else by shrinking the other person to fit themselves. I’ve actually gotten particularly good at shrinking Sorilbran to fit the capacity of others. No more of me. No less of me. The “right amount” of me (quote from Into the Spider-Verse).

Being loved well requires multiple vessels. And it requires those vessels to be okay not being the only vessel pouring into you or the only vessel you’re pouring into. 

Loving well sometimes means saying: I can’t hold all of you, but I’ll hold what I can. And I’ll stand beside the ones - the family, friends, peers, colleagues, and mentors - who hold the rest.

That’s not lack. I think that’s love.

Right?