Tough Love

Yeah, so after finally admitting I had a hoarding problem, I began my journey. I decided to attempt a cleanse of some of the most densly populated areas in my home and see if I had it in me to de-clutter. I called in reenforcements.

My friend Julie is super duper organized and throws out stuff without a second glance. I almost went dumpster diving after she moved because I knew there was a ton of great stuff out there. But I didn’t. She would have KILLED me.

She came over and we tackled a corner in my dining room. There were about five broken Christmas ornaments laying there. Some had been there for three years (when we moved in). Several were sentimental so I felt an immediate panic as Julie tried to get me to throw them away. I begged her to let me keep it. “I will fix it!” I claimed. She said “Then fix it now, or out it goes.” It was the tough love that I needed and I ran to find the super glue. I couldn’t find it anywhere. “I know P bought it recently. He knew I had a ton of stuff laying around waiting to be fixed." Then we found the glue, sitting there in the dining room next to the very pile we had been going through. Guess that was his way of a not so subtle hint to get things moving.

We fixed several of the ornaments and I let a couple go. We threw out more things and put other things away. Soon I had a clean corner in the room and we had a bag of garbage sitting in front of us. “Here,” I said. “I’ll take this to the trash.”
“Nope.” Julie answered as she tightened her grip on the first bag of my hoarding stash. “this one comes with me. I’ll throw it out at my place so you can’t dive back in after it.”

She knows me so well.

Julie moved south soon after that. :( Too far to come back for a visit or an intervention.

But maybe her little loving 'push' in the right direction and long distance support will be enough.

friends

So I have discovered that I am in fact, a hoarder of friends.

Not any friends, mind you, but 1st born friends. Who are amazing women. All who love me dearly And (here is the catch) are all incredibly clean and organized house keepers.

Perhaps, on top of my hoarding issues I also have a deep need to remind my self of how truly awful I am. So I surround myself with women who are impossible to measure up to. Me, being the messiest, hoardingist, of them all. Me and my dear junk. So I invite my amazing friends who know better than to keep 20+ cook books on a single shelf over to my kitchen to bake with me. And over they come. With their one, sweet little binder of a cookbook and they look at my mess of piles of cook books, my binder of recipes falling out, and the flour and sugar floating in clouds above my head and they smile and I know they think in that moment "ah. there is no hope for her."

Hoarders... Buried Alive

So when did I realize I was a hoarder? About six months ago.

I’ve been a hoarder since I was a teen (maybe earlier) and didn’t think of myself as anything more than a clutter bug for another 20+ years. I was flipping through the channels on our tv when a show “Hoarding: Buried Alive” caught my eye. I was sucked into the sad tale of a woman who was living in a home full of piles of junk and stuff. They sent in a therapist to help her dig out of it all.

I didn’t really identify with the hoarder or anything in the show UNTIL the therapist started asking questions about the things she saw in the home. “Why are you keeping this?” she asked as she picked up a jar. “Well, I might need it one day.” Another episode revealed the strong emotional ties people have to things. But practically it makes no sense to keep them. I found myself identifying with the hoarders and even identifying with their things. I would tear up as something was thrown out and the hoarder had to let go. I felt bad for them (not just the hoarder but the possession). I over identified with the THING.

It was messed up.

One night, I was watching Hoarders and my husband was there with me. I turned to him and calmly said “Do you think I’m a hoarder?” (Which in my language meant “Please tell me I’m not and that I only have a clutter problem.”) But he answered me with “You don’t think you are?”

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Gifted? Don't think he got it from me

I went to N’s school today to have a parent-teacher conference with his teacher. She told me N. should be tested to see if he is gifted. How bad is it that I thought “Gee, I hope he is gifted at cleaning.”

N and A have picked up my messy tendencies. Their rooms are clutter magnets and I get so overwhelmed trying to clean up. N tries and does as good a job as he can. He actually attempts organization and I was shocked to find him labeling all the baskets in our living room cabinet to identify their contents.

I’ve attempted organization several times. Hence, the baskets. I have a hunch that I have all the tools I need to get started. Baskets? Check. Storage Totes? Check. Garbage Bags? Check. Salvation Army only minutes away? Check.

A mental will to get rid of half my crap? … well, I guess we’ll see.