Pain and Anonymity

Some people who write about alcoholism, codependency, and recovery choose to keep anonymous blogs.  I’m realizing there is wisdom in that, and I should have considered it more seriously when I started this blog in January.

During that time, my thought was that transparency is a good thing.  The more honest I am about my sins and my struggles, the more light is cast there.  The more helpful my experiences will be to others who read.  The more Father triumphs over Satan in my mundane, day-to-day struggles.

I still believe this.  But here’s the snag.  Codependency is like alcoholism in many ways, but is unlike alcoholism in a very important way:  it’s a dependence on control and an addiction to people, not a substance.  As a result, when I am writing about my struggles, I end up referring to other people.  People who may read my blog.  People whose friends and family may read my blog.  No matter how obliquely I refer to people, I often wonder whether I’ve said too much.  Whether I’ve been hurtful to a person or fanned the flames of any conflict that is happening.

In fact, sometimes I don’t even have to wonder.   Sometimes, I know I shouldn’t have posted what I post about other people.

Father has prodded me to think harder about this, to open myself up to changing in this area, and to make amends where I’m aware I need to.  Yet I have sinfully been trying to ignore this prodding.

I still have a lot of thinking and praying to do on this issue.  I’m not sure whether I need to simply be more careful, wait 24 hours after writing before posting, stop blogging altogether, begin blogging somewhere else, anonymously, or some other adjustment.  In the meantime, I have unpublished two recent posts that I, without a doubt, should never have published in the first place.  I owe the thinly-veiled subject of those posts an apology, and will do so in person when I have an opportunity to do so.

There may be other things I’ve said here that I should unpublish.  There may be other actions I need to take.  I’m hurting, I’m angry, I’m broken, and no matter how much my mind knows I can trust Father to get me through this, my flesh wants to take over, control this, and do something–anything–to stop the pain.  Because of this, I have made several terrible, hurtful choices over the past few weeks.

My constant prayer of late has been for my pain to go away.  I still can’t help but pray that, but now my prayer is also that I will get better and better at surrendering everything to Father, even my pain.

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3 thoughts on “Pain and Anonymity

  1. I relate to this dilemma. My blog is highly personal and I’ve written about subjects that were hard for my friends and family to read. The guideline I use is to try to only tell my story, not the stories of the people involved. I try to relate everything back to my role in what happened. We have a right (and I feel, a responsibility) to share our stories so that we might help others. I don’t know the specifics about the posts you’re talking about but I hope you don’t stop writing.

  2. to make a long story short, my family of origin has been denying some serious truths for a long time. my writing which lead to my blogging, was my platform to tell the truth that i experienced without being called a liar about what had happened. i did choose to be more anonymous then you, but got found by a couple of people anyways and i stand by what i wrote even though one party was vehement about retaliating against me for a bit. then, when the mess we went through at work last year was at its peak – i went private for a while – but then brought the blog back to the open when things settled down.

    to me, allowing a person or people to censor you is a way of continuing to be enmeshed with them- almost you are relying on their approval or disapproval before posting which is unfair to you and your recovery. if you were at a meeting and that person was across from you and you would of said the same things then it’s appropriate to post them here. it’s almost like you would be putting someone else above your own healing process, which is so not fair to you.
    xxalainaxx

  3. megan pool says:

    That is so good Amy. Way to be a woman of strength and courage.

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