I always feel bereft when somebody decides to stop blogging. I feel that the conversation is impoverished by a voice fallen silent, that I have one less friend to write for, one less friend to read. I get that little hollow in the pit of my stomach that echoes abandonment and the shrinking of my world, the loss of a unique and valued voice. It feels like a little death, to not know what is going to happen to that friend the next day or the next week, to be excluded from family news and the flow of ideas and insights and shared dreams. It feels as if somebody has politely but firmly shut the door in my face.
Standing back a little, I can understand and respect the decision to stop blogging. People change, they move on, they lose interest, they want to write other things in other places, they feel constrained or unfree or simply bored. To stop blogging may be a personally liberating decision. Real life may be calling the blogger to do something more pertinent or vital.
But sometimes I know that bloggers stop because they feel unheard, unsafe or invalidated. That makes me wonder about the kinds of online community we are able to build as AA members online. It makes me wonder about how much support we offer one another in our comments and feedback. How well or badly we handle criticism or conflict in the cyber world of blogging. I wonder too about predatory stalkers on the Internet and how we can protect ourselves from intrusive or unwanted readers without using password protection or closing down our blogs.
When I was 11 years old I began keeping a personal diary in the back of a battered but unused notebook I had found in the school library.. I hid it behind dusty encyclopedias in a dim corner of the spare bedroom in my family home. I did not feel safe enough to write many secrets there, but I wrote cryptic entries in that cheap Crossley exercise book every day, usually in the afternoon when I was alone and had finished my homework. I was my own first reader and for a long, long time my only reader. This is my letter to the world that never wrote to me.
I still have a paper-and-ink moleskine diary I keep beside my bed. I write in it several times a week. Every now and again I read back through entries and notice things I was not aware of at the time of writing. I write what I like and I write freely ans spontaneously. Keeping a diary is as natural and necessary to me as brushing my teeth. Blogging is not as natural or spontaneous, but it feels as necessary.
Some of us blog in different voices. Tucked away on the Internet I have a closed and password-protected diary blog. Only one other person has access to that. I write mostly for myself and a little for her. It is a place where I can scribble down half-formed thoughts, feelings and jottings without having to reread or censor myself. The entries bristle with typos and unfinished sentences. There are scraps of fiction, drafts of letters, fragments of dream. I like the freedom to stop and start and not ever have to explain myself or worry about misunderstandings.
And I have another blog for exploring alternative spiritualities, politics, poetry and all kinds of quirkiness. That blog has a large readership but for the most part I have no idea who reads that blog or why. I have only the most tenuous sense of community there, so it feels quite solitary and as if anything might happen, a blog free to go in any direction, a place where I can be outrageous or thoughtful or zany, at whim.
This recovery blog is my strongest link to those who are like me and who stay sober one day at a time and share with me how they do it, one blog entry at a time. I write primarily for alcoholics like me who want to get and stay sober. I am not sure that this blog is a service to anyone but me – it may encourage one or two people once in a while to get to a meeting or phone the AA number in the directory – but it does help me to stay present and accountable. I would love to think that my blog gave anyone even a fraction of the support and inspiration I have received from other recovery bloggers.
And I feel bereft when somebody chooses to stop blogging. But all I can say is: I will miss you. Take care. I hope you resume blogging some day. Thanks for letting me into your life for a few months or years. I hope someday we get to meet face to face as we trudge the road of happy destiny. Until then stay sober and keep passing on the message.
I found ‘Letting go’ last week, quite by accident. It was my first anniversary and I had searched for some obscure AA phrase like ‘sunlight of the spirit.’ The connection was as immediate as any meeting. The poetry you share was what I need to hear, as much as your experience strength and hope, because my soul needs reminding it is on the right path.
What strikes me about your blog is that it is a piece of a global sober community. It is like being rocketed into the fourth dimension. and it does help other alcoholics live one day at a time.
I once had more time — 15 years, and the internet is a tool we can use to get and stay sober. It helped me reach out for my sponsor on the other side of the world, locate a friend I 12-stepped 20 years earlier, who then 12 stepped me, by asking the simple question: do you have a desire to stop drinking? And this tool has helped others get help thousands of miles away.
I hope you continue to share your writing and discovery in some way. Keep coming back.
Dear Mary,
I wrote a whole comment here, the phone rang, and somehow I lost it before I could post it.
Bottom line – thank you for writing this blog. I couldn’t have expressed it any better – that sense of loss when we lose a blogger friend. I feel a special connection to some and miss them dearly when they stop blogging.
I sometimes think of stopping myself, but blogging is good for me. It causes me to have to slow down and clarify what is in my head. It helps me. If it helps someone else, that’s an extra blessing.
God bless you, your blog, your sobriety.
PG
Thank you for this. Again (you did it before a few months ago too), you captured the spirit and intention of why I blog and give me an ideal and a set of principles that I aspire to.
Just, thank you…
Blessings and aloha…
I think a great deal can be gleaned from the way the principle of anonymity applies to and protects AA and AA members generally. I am careful with anonymity in and out of AA so I applied the same level of anonymity to my blog as I would have done to any other ‘publicly’ published statement. meaning would not publish my ID on news, radio or TV if I also disclosed my AA membership, so I do the same on my blog. I feel very comfortable with that so far, but due to the changing landscape of internet security may decide I don’t like that either. we shall see.
re people stopping. i suppose I expect many to stop as i find many expose their ID and that can often cause problems in the long term. Not always though, and less so for people not in regular employment.
but yes i like picking up the threads of their thought processes. and all are valuable in some way or other. plus i like how like attracts like. meaning people who like the way i have ended up interpreting the program maintain interest. Its a self selecting group of readers if you like. i like that. but then i always liked ‘attraction not promotion’
i get a lot of valuable identification with the way i choose to practice my program with blogs i read, which i like. because there are so many different types in aa, it is GREAT to find others who look at things a similar way.
your posts are interesting to read and descriptive of another culture i have not visited, so I enjoy the mental trip to another location. plus you seem like a kind soul with sufficient restraint no to follow your anger heedlessly and i always like that in people.
funny enough, i do not feel ? cut off from those that stop blogging. but i would miss the blogs i read which have become a regular stop off during the day. It is always the way in AA that in the long haul, there are fewer people around. so keep coming back
Mary, I too feel a sense of loss when a blogger goes away. I wonder what is going on in their life. I feel as if I have gotten to know them through their writing. It is like losing a friend–not like a death but more like someone who has gone away and with whom I have lost contact. I feel sad that people are leaving. Maybe one of these days I will feel like stopping but for now, I like to write down my thoughts. Some days I have something to say while other days I just write about what I’m doing and some simple gratitudes. I guess that’s enough. Glad that you are hanging around. I would hate for you to leave.
I identify with your thoughts on this. We all do what we need to do and I must be content with that.
I understand. In the 2 and a half years blogging , i had to stop blogging when I had pneumonia, and I missed it. Right now I haven’t blogged since Sunday cause I am stuck on a piece and I just don’t know how to write it.
I’ve missed a lot of blogs lately, but I;m starting to read a lot of hte blogs on your blog roll, and enjoying them. The few days you haven’t posted I’ve really missed you!
Do the puppies read your blog?
I wouldn’t be doing this today if not for the efforts of the bloggers that I found here. Sorry to see any of them go. If any one feels they’re not being heard, I can absolutely tell you that you’re important to me and that I value your wisdom and sharing. Good luck to all leaving. Happy blogging to everyone else!
I feel similarly when blogging friends stop writing. I am not a recovering alcoholic, but I learn so much about it and about the area where you live from your writing. I, too, appreciate your wisdom and sharing. What a great thing this virtual community can be! Sometimes I wonder if my blog is making much difference to anyone else, but it helps me, and that is enough.
Blogging in recovery is another way to connect to so many other people experiencing the same things you are. Or different things, I have used it many times to realign my thinking and keep me grounded. I love your blog, your pictures, the poetry you share and most of all your spirit.
I consider it time spent on my recovery, reading blogs. Not so much writing, but that too. They are all unique but yours is eeewneeek! Just when I’m feeling sorry for myself, your malaria acts up. Thanks for sharing!
PS- And as Irish Friend said above, that is the way of AA. Less and less of us as years go by. Good thing we are so centered on the newcomer.
From the outside looking in, it seems that God poured so many words into your spirit that writing is all you can do whether you want to or not. Your talent has always astounded me and having brushed up against you in this venue has altered a few perceptions and ideas that I did not even know I was stuck in. For me…your voice was heard.
“I am not sure that this blog is a service to anyone but me –”
I just read through the comments of others, and so now you can be certain, yes? MOST certain. YES!
Thank you for visiting my post yesterday
PEACE!