Too Loud? Unstoppable.

"Too Loud" and Unstoppable

When I was six, my aunt gifted me a book titled Too Loud, Laura. Little did I know how much those three words would shape my life? I grew up feeling like I was always either too much or not enough—too loud, talkative, emotional, bold, impulsive, and quick to change my mind. No matter how hard I tried, I never quite fit into the mould others had designed for me.

But here I stand today—Laura Spence, MSc in Perinatal Mental Health—proof that being “too much” is precisely what the world needs.

The Journey of a "Too Much" Girl

At 17, I left home for art school—not because I burned with passion, but because it was the “natural progression” everyone around me encouraged. It was prestigious. I should have been excited. Instead, I felt like an outsider from the moment I arrived.

I remember the conversations about European ski trips, a world that felt miles away from my reality. I had been skiing once—on a dry slope in Newmilns with my school—but it was hardly the same. Then, there were the art history lectures. I didn’t just sit through them—I slept through them, disengaged and uninspired.

My first essay earned me a referral for a dyslexia assessment. At 18, I barely knew dyslexia, but the idea intrigued me. Would this explain why I found everything so dull? Would I get one of those free laptops the other dyslexic students got?

After a series of wooden puzzles and assessments, the result came back: They do not have dyslexia. They have very slow processing abilities, whatever that means. Instead of relief, I felt insulted.

When I failed my second year, I finally admitted that I hated art school. It wasn’t like the art I loved. It felt like I had been jumping on a trampoline with a safety net, only to be flung straight into skydiving—without a parachute. I was drowning, and no one was coming to save me.

So, I left.

From there, I tried a degree in French and Hispanic Studies. They teach everything in French and Spanish (who knew?!).

That didn’t last, either.

So, I got a job.

Becoming a Midwife

Then I had my eldest daughter. And something inside me clicked.

I wanted to be a midwife.

Cue the chorus of doubters:

"You’ll never stick to it!" "You’ve tried before!" "You didn’t manage university last time—why risk it all?"

But I did risk it. And I did stick to it. And now, 15 years later, I stand here—not just a midwife, but a Master of Perinatal Mental Health (with merit!), an advocate for women’s health, and a loud, proud force for change.

No one truly knows what it’s taken to get here. I was self-funded. I fought for every opportunity—not because I had deep pockets, but because I refused to quit. I asked for funding support multiple times in my previous role. I was rejected numerous times. Eventually, they just stopped responding to my emails. My face no longer fit there, so why would they invest in anything I championed?

That’s the difference between me and the system. I’ve been where many of you are now. I have struggled through the transition to parenthood with undiagnosed ADHD. I have felt the crushing weight of navigating a world not built for my brain. And now, I am determined to make a difference.

Still "Too Loud"—But Not Loud Enough

For years, I believed being loud was a flaw, that changing my mind too often made me flaky, and that being "too much" meant I wasn’t enough.

Now? I see it differently.

I am loud—but not loud enough yet. I will keep changing—because growth requires change. I will continue advocating—because too many voices go unheard. And I will celebrate this moment—because I earned it.

So, here’s to the "Too Loud" girls. The ones who take the long way around. The ones who don’t fit the mould. The ones who talk too much, care too much, do too much.

We’re not too much. The world better watch out because we’re just getting started.

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