Moving Forward Little by Little

I needed to check-in to show that I have finished all the tasks on the original list.

1. Line the trash and recycle containers with plastic bags.
2. Replace the water jug on my dispenser, and take the empty containers to refill.
3. Retrieve the bins from the curb.
4. Clear and clean the counter to the left of my stove.  (Still have a few things to clear.)
5. Clean and disinfect my microwave.
6. Put away the clean dishes from the dishwasher.
7. Dry, fold, and put away the clean towels.
8. Buy a new shower curtain liner to replace the one that is torn.

In addition to this, I have washed and dried two other loads of laundry.  I don't dare to show how much more I have. 

I also rearranged the freezer. Yes, I also have more food in the freezer to cook for a family of four for a month. I can put nothing else in there.  I need to make an inventory and start cooking here at home and taking my lunch.  I eat out far too often and end up throwing away too much food. 

Tonight, I hope to finish clearing the refrigerator, and throwing out anything that is bad. I have already dumped out two unopened half gallons of milk, a quart of coconut water, a half gallon of orange juice, a cantaloupe, and a large clamshell container of mixed salad greens. That I can waste so much, and this only scratches the surface, makes me feel very guilty and ashamed.

The upside to this all is that I am beginning to make some headway on one room, as well as the pile of laundry.  

Copyright ©2015 The Anonymous Hoarder

Beating Myself Up

I don't need my father to beat me.
I do a good job of it on my own.

I didn't get anything on my list done yesterday.  In fact, when I left home, I did not get back until the wee hours.

It was one of those "avoidance days."  

You know the kind. Ignore it and goes away.

What lies we take on to fool ourselves into thinking we will feel better about ourselves if we come back later!

Instead, I ended up at thrift stores and came home with things that I felt would be cool to have. And then I ended up at the casino.

My life is out-of-control. 

There are so many things that I need to look at and share with others, but I have to compartmentalize.  I can't even share it all here, because I would run the risk of people knowing exactly who I am. I can't let that happen.

This is one reason that I prefer going to work. Work also gets me out, and gives me a way to avoid the rest of it.  I prolong going "home." (I struggle with writing that word because it does not feel much like home.)

When I work, I feel that I have purpose. I am around people. They see the good that I do and how I help others. They see the "put together" me.

If they only knew....

...the "real" me isn't so good after all. 

Copyright ©2015 The Anonymous Hoarder

Note: As I was looking for a picture to put with the title, which I wrote before starting this.  The picture (from Pixabay, search perimeters "beating") grabbed my attention and I decided to use it. The caption I used took me completely by surprise and was an eye-opener.

Perfect on the Outside and Chaos Within

Trying to wrap my head around the memory and how I felt hearing myself referred to as a pig. Of course, the intellectual part of me knows how to respond, but the emotional part of me feels such shame and guilt, as I am taken back to the days of never being good enough.

That memory came around the time I was about eight or nine years old. It may have been earlier. I know that there were many times where the mountains of clothes, books, papers, crayons and pencils, and much more were what I came home to after school.

It was much more than stuffing my drawers and closets with my things and being a bit scattered by nature. If you walked into my room in those days, it looked nearly perfect. Perfection on the outside, chaos on the inside.

I couldn't have piles of anything on my desk, the bed, the night table. For those of us who, by nature, need to see the big picture, I think this might not be uncommon.  Couple that with a creative, abstract and random mind, it is no wonder that the details and precision of "everything has a place; everything in its place" seems stifling.

But back to the notion of "perfection on the outside, chaos on the inside"...that is exactly what life felt like to me at that age and what I was expected to portray.

My family had an image to uphold. My father had a very public presence, and because he did, so did his family.

My mother did not do well with the publicity coming from this life. She really was much more down-to-earth, trying to fit-in to his narcissistic world rather unsuccessfully.  But she did her best, at first, trying to keep her children and the house in a way that would not be an embarrassment to the family by staining the image that had been presented for the world to see.

Perfect on the outside...

There were very few who knew anything about what was happening on the inside of our family. I suspect it was happening long before I began to see and experience it.

Infidelity, emotional and verbal abuse, alcoholism, and physical beatings were all part of what we saw and experienced in our family. The rule was that we could not talk about it to anyone. 

Airing one's dirty laundry was forbidden.

On the rare occasion that I let anything slip out to a relative, I was labeled as the family troublemaker, problem child, and embarrassment. I was also accused of lying, so that the relatives saw me as such. It protect the adults from being seen as having a problem, or being the problem. I became the family scapegoat.

Chaotic on the inside...

I suppose that my messiness was also a way of getting some sort of attention in those days. What started as a bit of big-picture person and their clutter, began to be the only source of attention I would get as more children were born. It was nothing more than a consolation prize.

Something better than nothing...

Now, decades later, I do not want the attention for this hoarding, which is why I do not have people over to visit. I am ashamed. Just as I felt shame for being who I was as a kid...as a human being.

I don't really want to keep people out of my life or my home, as they are what keep me going. I need people around me. I want people around me.  It's been a long time since I have had guests come to my place.  I used to love to entertain, or have friends over for dinner or a barbecue. I haven't done that in years.

This is the reason I am writing this blog. To let others in to see the struggles in the hope that others will not turn away.  I'm not even sure if there are people who are reading what I have to share, or if they are struggling with similar things. I hope that some will share their comments and situations.

This cannot be only me that struggles.  I cannot believe that this is isolated to just my part of the world.

On the outside, no one knows. 

But I live with the chaos, which has become a way to keep people out. It has not been like that for my entire adult life, but it has for quite some time. I let them see someone who they think is all together. I do this emotionally, as well. What people see on the outside is self-assuredness.  My living space is merely a reflection of what goes on inside of me.

Perhaps, that is what I need to explore in my next post.

Copyright ©2015 The Anonymous Hoarder

The Shame of Being Nothing But a Pig

Looking back over more than five decades of life, it's hard to pinpoint when I became a hoarder.
There were some signs that might have suggested that I was not ever going to be particularly organized.

I recall several occasions where I came home from school and every bit of clothing from my chest of drawers, all of the contents of my desk, and my closets were dumped out into the middle of the room in a big pile. It was my job to organize it and put it back.  I was hard-pressed to do so. Organizational systems just did not make much sense, as much as I tried.

Even as I write this, looking back on how angry my mother was, and how bad I was for being "such a pig," I am choking back the tears. I feel shame. It is a feeling that is not foreign to me.

This is not what I expected to feel so soon beginning to write.  My intent was to share more tonight, but I am feeling overwhelmed at this moment.

I even took several photos to share, but I will only share one tonight of walking in the front door.  It may not seem bad, but if you were to ask me how long most of it has been there, I would have to tell you the truth--four months. And this is the best of it.

This disclosure is going to be harder than I thought it might be.  I had not thought about that situation from 50 years ago and it took me off-guard.

I'm sorry, but I have to take some baby steps here. I will try again soon.

Copyright ©2015 The Anonymous Hoarder

I Am a Hoarder, There I Have Said It

Hiding from the shame. 

I am a hoarder. 

I am ashamed. No one knows it. Some may suspect it. Most would be shocked.

That has been my life. Keeping secrets. For me to share my struggle with this, I have to keep it secret. No one would believe me anyway.

I am not yet prepared to share my story with the world, and disclose my identity while doing it. I suppose that is also part of the problem, and keeping my dirty little secret hidden from the rest of the world that knows me.  But it is how it must be.

Many have seen the television show, "The Hoarders," and find these people disgusting, lazy, and generally bad people. I have compassion for them, though I do find that some of them are much more extreme than I am.

But as been attributed to English Reformer and martyr, John Bradford, "There but for the grace of God go I."

At some point, these same people featured on the television show started out just like I have. I hesitate to label myself or anyone else, as I do not yet know enough about the condition for me to speak on it.

That is my goal with this blog. I need to learn more. I need to love myself more. I need to share more.
It is in sharing that we begin to heal.

I know that I am not alone.

And so begins my journey of allowing myself the opportunity to disclose in a way that feels safe to me. I hope that others who have gone before me will come forward and share their stories of struggle and triumph with me.

For those, who live in fear of being discovered and being shamed, I hope you will follow my journey and feel strong enough to share your own.

So, now I have said it. The rest will come in time.

Copyright ©2015 The Anonymous Hoarder