Confessions of a Hoarder
In Recovery?
Having just spent the last hour breaking down post-pandemic cardboard boxes ready for recycling on Wednesday, I realized that I have to address my hoarding issues more seriously. Why do I feel the need to keep everything including God knows how many books on the subject of clutter? And why do I watch hours of the various shows on hoarding which have proliferated lately, always thinking “Well, I’m not that bad!” Because I suffer from a mental disorder which attaches meaning to everything and which manifests in various degrees of obsession. It has sometimes been classified as an Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), but I think the experts are moving away from that diagnosis. I do know that having outside forces clear out your stuff doesn’t work, and in fact, causes great anxiety. I remember years ago I hired a young woman to help me clear out a very mild case of clutter at a previous dwelling. She would come each week and meticulously sort through my papers setting up a neat and organized filing system. I began to dread her visits and finally transferred her to my Mother’s house as a cleaner for them (Mum with Alzheimer’s and her husband were meticulous housekeepers but in their 80’s loved having some help to keep things tidy).
Fast forward to today. I’m heading into my 80’s and the clutter seems to be going with me. I am managing to keep a semblance of order by maintaining the pathway to my bedroom free for my visiting lover. He accepts me as I am, thank goodness, but I recently became a Granny and my lover gently points out that perhaps my daughter would not let her son visit in case he was toppled by the piles of books. We’ll see . . .
And meanwhile I am learning more about myself as I write these posts for Substack. I have never liked to be told what to do, and now I even resent the algorithm reporting how many times I have posted. More will be revealed!
Jim, I have been thinking about your reply quite a bit this past week. I realize that my first reaction was that I immediately want to print out any pictures sent to me digitally! And the thought of discarding any actual photos is beyond my grasp. Meanwhile, I have made strides in the area of acquiring. My favorite pastime of browsing thrift shops has been severely curtailed to a birthday treat. But I now realize that food shopping has become another land mine. My weekly grocery trip requires diligent attention be paid to the list of what I need, rather than stocking up on incredible bargains. I am a work in progress!
As a recovering hoarder, probably what cured me was after my mother died at 86 -- she lived in the same place for 60 years -- I spent at least 3 weeks trying to clean out the house and its 3,000 books. This is not something I want to leave to my children. Other things that cured me -- moving multiple times, stupidly spending $200 a month for 10 years to store my crappola; and digital technology which has allowed me to digitize 20,000 photos and other documents, often simply by snapping a picture of a document. That gives me permission to throw it away.