A lot has been written about smoking pot and paranoia, but I think heavy drinking, with its secret handshakes and hidden agendas, is similar in its effects.
To set up this anonymous blog, I first set up a fake gmail account with the pseudonym of a gymnast I admired from gymnastics camp in the fourth grade. Just try to link me with that one, Homeland Security!
This gmail account was set up under the “private browsing” feature to further cover my tracks. I then used only the “free website” features of WordPress so that I didn’t have to give a credit card. A paper trail could have eventually pointed to the blog. The Feds are tricky that way.
I deliberately gave no real personal data, so that even if someone who knows me relatively well discovered the site, they would have no hard data that it was me lurking behind Finding a Sober Miracle. (Hence, never giving my dog’s real name.) And if anyone ever points the finger, deny, deny, deny!
And why all the subterfuge? I am not a famous movie star, if that’s the logical conclusion you have reached. I don’t hold any high-level job that I would risk losing by my online confessions. I am really not anyone in particular. I am you, more than likely. Just someone trying to get it all out there in the hope of finally finding the key to ending the shame and secrecy caused by active addiction.
I’ve always admired those people who came out with a bang, neighbors be damned! Those people who refused to wear mourning clothes and self confidently took center stage in the war on alcohol. I admire them, but I can’t see making that leap, ever. I am amazed that people put their actual photo on their blogs! Anyone could identify them! What are they thinking??
Part of this is just a natural reserve when it comes to “sharing,” even with people I know well. I blame my Yugoslavian* parents.
(*not my real parentage. I don’t even know any Yugoslavians. Are you seeing my point here?)
But after watching that damn video on courage I posted yesterday, I know that I am being called to go there. I’m going to have to come out of the closet. All the way, not just peeking out to see if anyone’s looking. This makes my blood run cold with a fear you can’t begin to imagine. Or maybe you can.
Any who, I am thinking of doing this like a “Where’s Waldo?” game to delay my inevitable debut. All 18 of my followers would stay up day and night, piecing together clues to come up with my identity … maybe even start a blog about it. It could be called “Where is Margot?”*
(*That’s the gymnast’s name. Ha!)
Well, enough about me. I am off to volunteer at the homeless place I committed to in my famous blog a Karmic Miracle on paying it forward. What’s funny about this is that I will be working with addicts and alcoholics. How long before I will feel compelled to offer my own wealth of experience, having achieved 42 days of sobriety?