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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