The difference between she and I is that I recognize I have a problem,
she, at age 72, is still in denial.  I remember often trying to clean
the house as a child and having her angry at me for trying to help "Do
me a favor and don't clean," she would say.  I longed for "chores" that
the other kids in school said they had to do...

Below is the result of your feedback form. It was submitted on
Wednesday, April 9th, 2008 at 09:07 PM.


Relationship : Struggles from the Daughter of a Hoarder
Source : Surfing the internet on the subject
Message :

 Hello.  I am new to this site, but I am glad I found it!  I
didn't really realize how bad growing up with a "hoarder" was until I
left home and her problem spiraled out of control.  She has little paths
to the bathroom, the kitchen sink and fridge, one spot on the couch
near her telephone. . . need I say more?  It is hard to call my beloved
mother a "hoarder" even now, yet,  I am now fighting some of the same
demons as her.. .

The difference between she and I is that I recognize I have a problem,
she, at age 72, is still in denial.  I remember often trying to clean
the house as a child and having her angry at me for trying to help "Do
me a favor and don't clean," she would say.  I longed for "chores" that
the other kids in school said they had to do.  I remember I tossed all
of my old pen pal letters, except for a chosen few, only to find years
later my mother had retrieved the whole stack (it could fill a large
dresser drawer).  We fought over why she had retrieved them and she said
"You will regret having thrown these away later, when you are older."
She then ceremoniously threw them back in the trash and said "Okay they
are gone, but someday you will regret this."  Do I?  Yes, I have
"pangs," but I wonder would I have had these "pangs" of loss now, if my
mother hadn't made such a big deal about my tossing them out in the first
place?  I could go on. . .

My father wasn't a hoarder until his later years and he was diagnosed
with COPD a disease that affected his ability to breathe and he was on
oxygen, this also affected his ability even to do light housework.  He
lived clear across the United States from me and so  I did not see the
inside of his house for years (I always flew him to visit me).  Needless
to say I was horrified.  He had helped homeless people - as long as
they said "Praise the Lord, I have found God" he would take them into his
home.  He died with two of them in his home, able bodied, they did
nothing to help, in fact one of them SMOKED when it clearly stated on
Dad's  LARGE oxygen tanks "no smoking allowed" - why didn't the man at
Walgreen's report this elder abuse when he came to service my father's
oxygen supply?  Did my father meet him outside?  I will never know.  What I
do know is it took months for me to evict the people and then months
for me to muck out the house. It was hard to find all the "treasures"
among the trash, to this day I do not know if I found them all.

At this stage in my life, I am a "clutterer,"  but as I look around I
begin to realize I am teetering on the edge - some examples:

I have a huge bag of plastic grocery bags in my garage.

I have twelve tins from a Japanese food restaurant that I thought
might have a good use as a craft project for the kids. 

I have six cardboard beverage holders (the kind you get from the drive
through) in my pantry, another "thing" to be somehow used for the kids.
 

I have three more large plastic containers that are sitting in the
garage, two of the containers held fruit platters from Costco, the other a
Chinese chicken salad mix - again useful for something - right????

I have a cloth "tag" from my husband's cargo shorts that have a golden
lion emblem - kind of pretty/regal - good for something - right????

I have a large ziploc bag filled with wire twisty ties the kind that
they use nowadays to secure toys in the box.  I have used these before,
but not often. . .

I have two totes on the side of my house filled with magazines and
catalogues - I feel the NEED to remove my name from the labels before
recycling them - and of course the NEED to glance at them, flip the pages,
just to MAKE SURE that nothing important worked its way into the folds.
. . .

I have a grocery bag of junk mail and another tote filled with junk
mail in my garage.  I took out all the important stuff (bills)  this is
just junk mail, but some are credit card offers - so I feel the NEED to
shred all of them. . . .

As you can see, I AM teetering!  But I found this site and I feel hope,
hope that I will overcome this!  I have struggled before on the edge,
only to come back, but this time I have children and less time to deal
with the decisions - WHY are they so hard?  It is garbage to many
people. . .

In the past I have had "wins". . .

I removed myself from junk mail lists , but, alas, this is ONLY five
years - the mail has returned, and multiplied!!!  Now another must do
once again, Get off the lists!!!

I switched from plastic bags to reusable bags, but (oops) I am at the
store and don't have the bags. . . so. . ." paper or plastic?" they ask.
. . I say "plastic," disappointed in myself for having forgotten the
reusable bags.

The wire hangers from the dry cleaner . . . finally found a dry cleaner
who will take them back (I don't ask what they do with them, if I
found out they get thrown away I would probably stop giving them back!).


I sigh at the kitchen table, clean laundry in a basket, folded ready to
go upstairs.  The children's easter baskets, still to be put away,
with empty plastic eggs and already forgotten small toys inside; the
computer my husband said he would set back up for the kids to use (its been
on the table for two months); a small container of mail, a doll given
to my daughter, still in the box (she doesn't like dolls), my daughter's
"Magic Hat" from Christmas (I have to remind her to put it away, she
played with it yesterday); on the back of two of the kitchen chairs hang
several bags containing items for goody bags for my son's upcoming
birthday party, and also my daughter's school sack with "to-do" items
still inside (she is on Spring Break); a too small dress from her closet is
slung across the back of one chair and another chair is occupied by a
REUSABLE grocery bag filled with junk AND important mail and some of my
older daughter's art.

Having found this site, I have hope. . . looking at the images will
help me remember what my mother's house looks like today, remembering the
squalor my father spent his last years in and I will tell myself I want
to spend more time with my children and not with all this . . .stuff!
 

P.S. The perfectionist in me wants to proof read this, but I will fight
that demon and post now (so I apologize for any errors!).  Have a
wonderful day!