A few years ago, after several years of consistent writing (and a fair amount of therapeutic results), I had to stop writing on this site. You see, my brother had stumbled upon it unexpectedly. I never wanted my family to know about it because I wasn’t ready for my family to really know me. My brother was the worst possible member of my family to be the one to find this blog because he does not have the first clue about respecting people, let alone boundaries.
After finding the blog he spent an entire weekend reading through the entire thing, and apparently, making notes about every single thing that he felt painted him in an ugly light, was, in his mind, inaccurate, or in some other way pissed him off. He sent me a lengthy, angry email about all of this and told me I had no right to write, and say, the things I did. He then refused to unsubscribe to the blog because, he said, I needed to be held accountable for the “slanderous” things I had and might say about him. “Slanderous”, of course, equals wrong.
I tried to maintain control of my circumstances. I moved my blog to another platform, but he hunted it down. That platform, unlike WordPress at that time, allowed me the option to block his IP address, and email address so that he wouldn’t be able to see the blog, but he knows a lot more about computers than I, and he utilized some technological wizardry to force his way in. I tried setting up a whole new blog, but ultimately, it just didn’t feel right. This is my blogging home. So I gave up and I lost something that had meant so much more to me than just a place to exercise my writing ability.
As if all the harm he had done to me over the course of my childhood hadn’t been enough, he had taken away the one thing that, at that time, offered me some hope for healing and achieving peace and happiness for myself.
Some time later, I found this on-line:
I’ve posted this here before, but it is relevant today. You see, part of the work I’m doing now is to figure out who I am. Not who I need to be to make other people happy or like me. Not how to live up to the expectations that others place on me to make me acceptable in their eyes. But who I am. For me. Today. And always.
My life is mine. My stories are mine. What has lead me to this moment, to this point in my life, I own that, and I can do with it as I please.
I no longer wish to hide from anyone. I no longer wish to live up to anyone else’s expectations. I no longer wish to seek approval or blessing from anyone.
Going forward, in these pages, there will be no name changes “to protect the innocent”.
THERE ARE NO INNOCENT.
If people want me to write warmly about them, they should behave better.