My recent social media mistake.

Family Dynamics & Boundaries • August 21, 2022

Accountability means owning your actions—especially when you’ve made a mistake or caused harm—without turning into your own harsh judge. It is not about beating yourself up, over-apologizing, or using your missteps as proof that you are fundamentally broken or unworthy. For you, learning accountability is about clearly saying, ‘I messed up, here’s what I’ll do to repair,’ and then letting yourself move forward without collapsing into shame or self-punishment. This distinction matters because it frees you from the trap of endless rumination and helps you repair relational harm with honesty and care. It’s the difference between ‘I did something wrong’ and ‘I am wrong,’ and holding both truths at once is the hardest, most healing work you’ll do here.

• You can feel deeply unsettled when someone impersonates a trusted figure in your life online, especially when you’ve carefully guarded your private social media spaces to protect your emotional safety.
• Accountability without self-punishment means you recognize your social media mistake clearly, take responsibility by setting firm boundaries like blocking the imposter, and resist the urge to see this slip-up as evidence that you’re flawed or careless.
• Healing this kind of relational trauma involves learning to repair relational harm by balancing appropriate caution with compassion for yourself, so you can uphold digital boundaries without falling into over-apologizing or harsh self-judgment.

The other morning just a few minutes before I began my work day, I popped onto Instagram and saw that there was a follow request from one of my old high school teachers waiting for me.

I couldn’t recall if she was already on Instagram – I’m honestly not on it often – but I knew she followed me on Facebook.

Not thinking too much of it, I approved her “follow” because I like her so much and hopped into my 8 am meeting. 

A few hours passed and I was swept up all morning at work. 

Finally, at noon I took my lunch break, and, while I was wolfing down a sandwich, I opened up Instagram again to see a DM waiting for me from that high school teacher.

1. “Hello. How are you?”
2. Signs You May Be Carrying Relational Trauma
3. Social media: yet another complexity in the relational trauma recovery journey.
4. For some, both in real life and online, holding these boundaries feels low stakes.
5. Upholding social media boundaries, making mistakes and moving forward.
6. So normally, I have strong and rigorous social media boundaries (as I do in real life, too).
7. Navigating Digital Boundaries in Trauma-Informed Therapy
8. There’s no thesis to today’s essay. There’s no solution.

“Hello. How are you?”

Shoot. This was definitely not my high school teacher. 

She and I have stayed close since I graduated high school in 2004 and I know her well, know her speaking style, and knew she would never be so generic.

Quickly I checked against my other IG followers and sure enough, there was her “real” profile. 

The one that followed me that morning, the one I gave access to my private IG feed where I post photos of my daughter and husband, was a dummy. 

Quickly, I blocked that person, whoever it was. 

And then the thought that’s been keeping me company since 2004 when I got on social media came up again: 

“Was that just a bot or was it one of my estranged family members?”

It was such a uniquely relational trauma recovery kind of thought and experience that, after my chagrin subsided, I knew I had to share it with you in case, you, like me, experience social media as yet another complexity of coming from a relational trauma background.

Social media: yet another complexity in the relational trauma recovery journey.

Most of us have a complex relationship with social media for many reasons.

And, these days, almost all of us get followed by bots on social media from time to time – “Hey Aunt Jane, IDK but I think your account was hacked again?!”

And while no one likes when bots spam them, not everyone has to worry about someone they really don’t want to have access to them deliberately and under false pretenses attempting to get in touch with them via social media. Repeatedly.

That – the experience of having estranged or abusive family members you’ve blocked – deliberately trying to get in touch with you by posing as profiles of your accepted followers is, however, something some of us from relational trauma backgrounds might relate to. 

The reality is that social media is, for better or worse, like an extension of life, a second relational world we have to navigate these days.

And, as with life in the real world, the social media landscape is also a place where we’re forced or compelled to hold boundaries with people in our life. 

For some, both in real life and online, holding these boundaries feels low stakes. 

For others, like those of us who come from relational trauma backgrounds, both in real life and online, the stakes can feel higher.

The stakes can feel higher because many of us who relate to coming from relational trauma backgrounds often have estranged relationships with family of origin members.

Or, if not estranged per se, relationships who, quite frankly, we’d just prefer not have access to more intimate details and photos of our life.

And so, sometimes, the same level of vigilance we may have to employ in the real world – such as when considering whether or not to say yes to a cousin’s wedding invitation or whether or not to attend the funeral of a grandparent knowing certain others will be there – can play out in the digital space as well as the flesh and blood space.

The relational trauma recovery question persists with social media as it does in the real world: how do I keep myself safe and away from people who feel harmful to be around?

Upholding social media boundaries, making mistakes and moving forward.

You – like me – have probably already taken steps on social media to address that key question – how do I keep myself safe and away from people who feel harmful to be around?

Personally, I keep my personal profiles private.

I’ve blocked people. 

I’ve unfriended people. 

And I take a lot of care to verify that the people who follow me are in fact my real friends who I trust. 

If a follow comes through and it looks even remotely suspicious, I text or call that person to make sure it’s really them. 

I take extra care about who I allow to have access to my personal social profiles because that’s where I post photos of my husband, daughter, and our life together.

And both my husband and I are estranged from family members who we absolutely don’t want to have access to that content. 

So normally, I have strong and rigorous social media boundaries (as I do in real life, too). 

But that day when I quickly accepted a follow to my private IG (all my profiles are private except for my work ones), I made a mistake.

I rushed. 

I didn’t take the time to double-check.

I’d made a mistake and gave a dummy profile access to about 100+ pictures of me, my husband, our daughter, and our life together.

This is content that I don’t want those estranged family members to see and it’s painful to think that one of them might have seen it.

Now, I can’t prove it was an estranged family member or just a random bot, but the chagrin I felt imagining that, for four hours, an estranged family member did get through, was painful. 

And, as I mentioned, even as I sat with those painful feelings, I thought to myself, this is such a unique experience for someone who comes from a relational trauma background with estranged family members. I’m going to write about it.

I wanted to write about it to validate yet another nuance some of us might contend with if we come from relational trauma backgrounds.

I wanted to write about it, too, to illustrate how, even 15+ years into my own relational trauma recovery journey, I still make mistakes with my boundaries sometimes.

And I wanted to write about it in case my normal practice of being very careful of accepting follow requests and taking time to screen for the legitimacy of the follow, could feel helpful to you as you deal with estrangements or challenging family of origin relationships.

Navigating Digital Boundaries in Trauma-Informed Therapy

When you bring that sinking realization into therapy—that for four hours, an estranged family member might have accessed photos of your children through a fake Instagram profile—you’re not just processing a social media mistake but confronting the ongoing reality that coping with family estrangement extends into every corner of modern life, including digital spaces.

Your therapist understands that this isn’t paranoia but exhaustion—the bone-deep weariness of maintaining hypervigilance across multiple platforms, always wondering if that new follower is really your coworker or actually your personality-disordered mother hunting for glimpses of the grandchildren she’ll never meet. Together, you process not just the boundary violation but the grief underneath: that you need these elaborate digital fortifications against people who should have been your safest harbor.

The therapeutic work involves examining the shame spiral that follows boundary mistakes—the self-attack for being “careless” when you’re actually maintaining extraordinary vigilance compared to people with healthy families who accept follow requests without a second thought.

Your therapist helps you recognize that one rushed moment doesn’t negate years of successful boundary work, that accidentally letting someone in for hours doesn’t mean you’re weak or that your boundaries don’t matter. Through processing these incidents, you explore the deeper wounds: the unfairness of needing a verification system for Instagram follows, the rage that relatives force you into this exhausting vigilance, the grief that your daughter’s photos can’t be freely shared with extended family like other parents do.

Most importantly, trauma therapy helps you develop both practical strategies (verification protocols, privacy settings, regular account audits) and emotional resilience for when boundaries get breached despite your best efforts. Your therapist validates that wondering “bot or estranged relative?” is a uniquely painful question only trauma survivors face, helping you hold self-compassion for both the mistake and the hypervigilance, recognizing that maintaining boundaries across physical and digital worlds isn’t perfectionism but necessary protection for the life you’ve courageously built beyond your family’s reach.

There’s no thesis to today’s essay. There’s no solution.

There is just me sharing with you about a mistake I made in my life. The automatic place my brain went to when it happened. And being right there with you in the continued complexity of a relational trauma recovery journey. Holding boundaries and protecting myself as an adult while I live my life.

I’m guessing, if you’re on this mailing list, making mistakes with your own social media boundaries might be something you can relate to as well.

If so, would you mind sharing with me in the comments below:

Has this scenario ever happened to you – an estranged family member attempting to get access to you through dummy profiles? Does social media also feel like a fraught landscape for you? What action steps do you personally take to uphold good, strong social media boundaries with estranged or painful relationships in your own life?

If you feel so inclined, please leave a message in the comments below. The 20,000+ monthly readers of this blog can benefit from your wisdom. And perhaps feel less alone seeing their story mirrored in yours.

Here’s to healing relational trauma and creating thriving lives on solid foundations.

Warmly,

Annie

Both/And: Strength and Suffering Can Coexist

In clinical work with driven women, one of the most healing shifts happens when they stop framing their experience as either/or. Either I’m strong or I’m struggling. Either I’m grateful for what I have or I’m allowed to hurt. Either my life is objectively good or my pain is valid. The truth, almost always, is both.

Priya is a physician in her early forties — board-certified, respected by colleagues, raising two children she adores. On paper, she’s thriving. In my office, she described a sensation she called “smiling underwater.” Everything looks fine from the outside. Inside, she hasn’t taken a full breath in months. She doesn’t want to complain because she knows how privileged her life looks. But the weight is real, and the isolation of carrying it silently is making it heavier.

This is the paradox I see again and again in my practice: the women who have built the most impressive external lives are often the ones carrying the heaviest internal loads. Not because success caused their suffering, but because the same relational trauma that drove them to achieve also taught them to perform wellness rather than feel it. Both things are true: they are genuinely accomplished, and they are genuinely struggling. Healing begins when they stop forcing themselves to choose between those two realities.

The Systemic Lens: The Weight You Carry Isn’t All Yours

Driven women are systematically taught to locate the source of their suffering internally. If you’re burned out, you need better boundaries. If you’re anxious, you need more mindfulness. If your relationships are strained, you need to communicate better. This framing isn’t accidental — it serves a function. It keeps the focus on individual behavior and away from the structural conditions that make individual behavior so costly.

Consider what the typical driven woman manages in a single day: high-stakes professional work, emotional labor in relationships, mental load of household management, caregiving responsibilities, her own physical and mental health, and the performance of equanimity required to be taken seriously in all of these domains. No one designed this workload to be sustainable because no one designed it at all. It accrued — the result of decades of women entering professional spaces without the domestic and structural supports being redesigned to accommodate that shift.

In my clinical work, I’ve found that naming these systemic forces is itself therapeutic. When a driven woman realizes that her struggle isn’t evidence of personal inadequacy but a predictable response to impossible conditions, something shifts. The shame loosens. The self-blame softens. And she can begin to make choices based on what she actually needs rather than what the system tells her she should be able to handle.

If what you’ve read here resonates, I want you to know that individual therapy and executive coaching are available for driven women ready to do this work. You can also explore my self-paced recovery courses or schedule a complimentary consultation to find the right fit.

Medical Disclaimer

Medical Disclaimer