In the interest of time (and because I still need to get over to Mom's and take those pics), I am going to copy a post I left on my Children of Hoarders message board a while ago. I feel that it is the most accurate description of my daily life that I can give you right now...
March 20th, 2008
My sister and I were trying to talk through some of our issues as children of a serious hoarder the other day and we came upon something we hadn't consciously realized before. We both realized that we have similar problems with our "true identity". For example, let's say someone knocks on my front door, I instinctively feel that familiar panic - oh no someone's here. Then I remember, I don't live with Mom anymore (relief), next I look around and see that things actually look O.K. (not perfect, so I'll stress a little about it later -but no way in H*LL am I going to make up random excuses and look like my Mom) so I let the "someone" in and have a little visit or whatever. Doesn't sound too bad, right? Here's the kicker though, after the visitor leaves I am RELIEVED that they didn't see the "REAL ME". Even though I'm not a hoarder like my Mother and I don't save stupid things like yogurt containers by the hundreds and I'm probably only as messy as a "normal" mother of 4 little ones, I don't feel normal. Rather, I am counting my lucky stars that the visitor came on a good day.
A lot of the time I feel as though I am watching my life happening from across the room, like I shouldn't be allowed to live that normal part. If someone compliments me on my beautiful home and how I have done such a great job decorating it, I thank them, but secretly I know that it's just luck it looks that way and thank goodness they don't know the truth about me (which is what??? That I have unfolded laundry downstairs and that makes me a bad person?), why can't I just live my life now? I don't know if this is making any sense at all to you, but when my sis and I were discussing it, we were floored that we both felt the same way...which is that we are sort of living two lives all the time, and the good one (the one where things get done and are organized and we are smart capable women) is the one that feels like a sham.
I just feel that I am always on the verge of being "found out". I feel that "nice things" are not my right or privilege, like I don't deserve them really. So if I happen to have nice things, it feels as if I am just borrowing them or maybe just visiting - like at a hotel or someone else's home. If I manage to get some organization in my own home, deep down I know that it will never last and so I can't enjoy it for what it is (everyday life)-instead I focus on the mess that must inevitabely follow and how will I ever keep up...
Thanks for dropping by! Just a quick note: I have been receiving emails from people who would like my permission to put this blog on their blogroll and I say go ahead! Since this is my "secret" blog (at this point I haven't even told my hubby about it) I have been unsure about how to get it out there for people to read. But it seems to be working all the same!
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2 comments:
My mother was a hoarder, too. When I finally left her house, she had five (5) toasters in her garage which did not work. I once found a plastic spatula, from ten years prior, in her house that had melted and burnt on one side. She found it necessary to keep that stored with her six (6) old MACs.
I have always thought that the clock was running against me to help my family. My little sister (at home) is 15 and I want the house fixed by the time she is 17. I have carved for her a bedroom and a game/music room out of the hoarding clutter. But I thought, when my sister moves then I really don't have to kill myself to fix it. But you have made me realize that SHE will have to deal with those issues if I don't. (David resets his watch)
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