AB Gracey

"Let's pretend we didn't hear that," the actor said. The words struck deep. Let's pretend it isn't happening, let's pretend it's all okay, let's pretend..." Many of us have said it to ourselves. It's how we keep relationships, friendships, or the family appearance. The problem with pretending is that we don't deal with the issue and end up repeating the game. I'm a pretty kind person. I am sensitive to the needs of others. But I had this attitude of superiority. I'd gone through tough times. You should too. You should know what I've been through, wimp. We call it the cycle of abuse. Giving to others what was given to us. It starts with saying, "Well, you think you've got it tough. You don't know what tough is." That one statement negates the other person's experience, and in effect, is gaslighting them. How about, "You need to toughen up if you want to be anyone." Or, "You think you have...

 I was chatting with a cousin, talking about our early years growing up and how close we used to be when we were young.  "After Mom and Dad broke up, everything changed, and we didn't visit anymore," I said. I'd wanted to say that for a long time, talk about what happened to my family when things broke apart.  We never did.  When we reunited many years later, visiting and joining in family events, we acted like everything was normal, never discussing how isolated we felt during those years, never admitting how we wished we had grown up as they had. It's like a simple drop of water. It's there, and it doesn't hurt us. We can gather that drop. Or use it. Or drain it. Ignore it, and the drops continue falling until they become a flood. I've seen good families drift apart because of the lack of an honest conversation. No one wants to open old wounds, when in fact, talking about them could actually heal those wounds. To have that honest conversation, you ne...

Ever feel in need of a word or two of encouragement? I know I have. Recently I came across a letter I'd gotten back in 2012. I thought I'd share it: "Hi there. I love you. You are so brave and courageous, taking life by the horns and going with the flow. Yes, I know it is hard. So much unknown. So much poverty and not having. You have gone forward regardless. You have not settled. You have remained true to your commitment to truth by not compromising yourself. Not an easy job." "And so, I want to encourage you to continue moving forward. You do not know what lies ahead. But you do not fear it either. You go forward with prayer and with hope. You trust God to take care. And when God seems far away, you continue on in the dark, knowing God will act in time. Maybe not your time, but in time." "So, know I believe in you, with your quirkiness and your uniqueness. You don't want to be in Grad school right now. You'd like to be writing and earning good...

      It was a simple look, the dog glancing at the sidelines instead of at the actor who played his owner. Or the baby  looking over the shoulders of an actor mom to see the real mom. Or the child focusing on someone on the side, taking cues from there as she or he tries to recite their lines. I notice these little details and other inconsistencies in movies that reveal playacting. I don't do it on purpose, that is, it is not my intention to critique a movie to death. I watch to enjoy. Still, for some reason, these subtle cues remind me this is all make-believe and pretense.     That's why I question how I allowed myself to believe questionable things as a young person of faith. I was told things that defied reason, and yet I accepted what I was told because they said, "That's what faith is. Believing even when you don't understand."      It sounds so good, doesn't it? Accept what authority tells you as coming from God. Surrendering is what ...

  Sitting next to Mom, with sister Suzie. I don't remember when Dad took this picture of me sitting next to my mom on the front porch steps. Life was quite normal back then, so normal this moment escapes me. But I love to look at it because it reminds me of days long ago. Saturday, February 6, was Mom's anniversary of death. For some reason, this anniversary was harder than usual. Memories of Mom kept flooding my mind: of her sitting on the edge of my bed, running her fingers through my hair as I told her about my day; helping me sew my first 4-H project, teaching me how to ride Black Satin, showing me middle C on the piano and helping me learn little songs.  I used to call Mom regularly once a week, on weekends. It started back when I got a cell phone and minutes on the weekend were free.  As the years sped by, my weekly phone calls became such a ritual that Mom would call me if I missed one, "just to check in" she would say. She never said a discouraging word when I...

  I watched as my friend glided across the deck, her movements fluid and graceful. She arched her back and twirled. If only I could be that free-spirited , I thought.  It was Labor Day, and my friend and her husband were throwing their yearly Labor Day Party. As I listened to the live band perform, I watched people chatting as they stood around with food piled on their plates. My friend moved freely between them, padding along in her bare feet, her red hair flowing in the wind. Oh! To be so free. That scene has stayed with me. It has been in stark contrast to my own self-consciousness. I thought my efforts to be authentic were sufficient. I didn't realize how being an empath carried so many roadblocks. If I thought a person might be uncomfortable with what I wanted to say, I'd refrain. I didn't want to be in competition against that person's strong opinions. I didn't like fighting or arguing.  I'm reminded of a presentation I gave in Grad school. It was our Fina...

It was a post by my sister, inviting me to view pictures of the inauguration that I missed. I appreciated the gesture and the opportunity to enjoy the photographs. I thanked her in reply and mentioned I'd seen that Biden had gone to Mass that morning to start off his day. "Humbling." I wrote. Then it started.  First, it was a cousin replying. "Such a good Catholic, he supports late-term abortions." And then a sibling joined in with a comment about "Biden's promotion of murder." I bristled.  The comments brought me back to my youth, to a time when a conservative group from Canada drew my parents in back in the late 1960s. The stance of the group had them questioning everything that was normal or fun until life became black and white, and judgments and criticism became the norm.  It's what caused my mom to removed us from school. It broke my parents' marriage and demanded we choose sides. We have never really recovered from this influence as ...