You asked, Gracie answered. From the newest issue of Mockingbird’s print magazine — now shipping! Get it while it’s hot.
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Issue 26 of The Mockingbird is now shipping.
Dear Gracie,
On the surface I would appear to have things put together. But I have made a mess of my life. Twice divorced, I’ve dated a bit in the last ten years, but not successfully.
What is clear is that I am the problem in my relationships — lots of grace required. Despite some strong and attractive qualities, I struggle with narcissistic tendencies to the degree that I eventually burn people out. People seem to love the gatherings I organize, but I do not get invited to anything. I’m not toxic or angry, just very “extra” and without a filter to guide my thoughts as they become words. I’m likely on the spectrum. I’ve been in therapy much of my adult life and have gained a tremendous amount of self-awareness. Yes, there was a very broken childhood.
While I very much want to change, that has not come easily. I lean on my relationship with God, guidance from the Spirit, and believe deeply in grace for self and others.
At times, it seems easiest to avoid engaging in community in order to spare others of me. Any words of tangible hope?
Blessings to you,
The Problem
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Dear Problem,
One of the difficult parts of being human is that it is almost impossible to parse out our personal wounds from the suffering of the world. I can feel sadness for a war-torn country on the other side of the planet, but it pales in comparison to the sadness I feel about how laundry is actually an infinite chore. That is not a flattering reality, but it is a true one. We can try to map out who suffers most, either by their own hand or otherwise, but the fact of the matter is that suffering is our state, both geographically and emotionally.
I am sure some of your suffering is your fault. But I am absolutely certain that a great deal of it is just being a human on planet earth.
While I appreciate you having done work in therapy and having gained a better self-awareness, I am worried about your internal voice. You are not too much. You are just longing for relief and love.
Which leads me to an idea. Maybe there are other places and other people who need precisely your brand of “too much.” As our brothers and sisters in AA say, “It is good to be of service.” Volunteer for your local Big Brothers/Big Sisters program. Hang out with a kid who does not have a lot of options for decent adults. You don’t have to do this for the rest of your life. But do it for a semester. See if it helps.
My hope is that your internal voice will become the voice of Jesus, telling you that it is never too late to love. And that you will find people who have a need perfectly sized for your too-much-ness.
Also, maybe you can make some new friends. Because yours sound like they are not enough.
Signed,
Gracie
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Illustrations by Melisa Gerecci.
Dear Gracie,
I have a confession to make… I once stood up on a stage and lied to an entire congregation that I’d heard the voice of God in a vision. Maybe “lie” is too strong. But really I was not sure. I did have a vision (by which I mean a visual thought came to my mind) but as I reflected on it, this “vision” became a bigger deal than it seemed at first. I thought maybe God was telling me something, but I think I also wanted to be at the middle of some excitement. Between you and me, I am not sure I have ever heard God’s voice despite, at times, praying for it to the point of tears. How do you know when He speaks? And how do you know that you know? And what if you never actually hear it? How are you supposed to trust it’s real?
Signed,
All Ears
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Dear Ears,
Honestly, I applaud your theatrics.
When I was a teenager, I once sang the very moving hymn “On Eagle’s Wings” as a solo, and I found myself inexplicably raising my hands as I sang it. On the drive home, my dad (a former Southern Baptist) said, “I noticed you were raising your hands as you sang. You weren’t feeling anything, were you?” I assured him that of course I did not “feel anything.” Which was an absolute lie. I did feel a great adoration and love for Jesus in that moment, but it seemed best to keep it to myself. So same, but different.
I think we know that God is communicating with us when we feel unreasonably brave and say things we had no idea we believed. I once attempted to correct two men who were being horribly racist to a young black woman. And instead of my usual verbiage (cuss words), I yelled out, “Be better Christians!” That was definitely the voice of God.
For what it’s worth, I actually believe God was in your vision. And not just because of the boringly obtuse theological statement “God is everywhere.” I think God adores us most when we are acting like idiots, fibbing a little, and trying to be the drama. In those moments we are obviously needy creatures.
Also, I feel great compassion for your desire to hear the voice of God. I believe that you will.
Signed,
Gracie
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Dear Gracie,
My best friend and I grew up across the street from each other. Our friendship has endured many seasons of growth and change. We went to different high schools and colleges, and have lived in different places, but we’ve always stayed in touch until recently.
These days, my having kids and a family makes it difficult to find time to see her. She is single and has said many times that she wants a husband and family too. She seems to have a hard time being around my family and doesn’t really ask about them, even though they’re the most important part of my life right now.
In my worst moments I think she is being selfish by not taking an interest in my family. But in my more anxious moments, I worry about her, as she has expressed deep sadness recently and rarely returns my messages. I want to be everything to her, to support her and be there for her, but I also feel like I’m triggering to her just by being myself. What should I do?
Asking for a Friend
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Dear Asking,
So I think there are two ways that friendships can go. Either things peter out and it feels like it’s time to move on, or you sit each other down and talk it out.
You have to ask yourself if this friend is worth the risk of having a real conversation. From your description, it sounds like she is. But you need to know that you have to risk losing her to get her back again. The whole thing might blow up in your face. But who knows? Maybe it’s not about your life at all but about something she has kept hidden in her own. But you will not know that until you are facing her.
One of hardest-earned lessons I have gained about friendship is that I can really love people and still not be responsible for their feelings. Being responsible for my own feelings is already a full-time job. Friendship should not feel like another place you need to care-take.
Also, you never know what the Holy Spirit will do. Over 30 years, one of my oldest friends has sometimes been a smaller part of my life and sometimes a bigger part. When we were in grade school, my mom wrote the teacher a note that said, “Please move Sarah away from Clint. He talks too much.” In college, we found one another again and spent four wonderful years watching Will and Grace while drinking pink wine in my Ole Miss dorm room. When my parents died, he moved heaven and earth to support me.
It is okay to let the anxiety of this go for a season, or longer. God is bigger than our feeble attempts to try to fix people we love. She will be okay. You will be okay.
Signed,
Gracie
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