I tried to call social services once even. I tried to explain to them
about the situation, but I was brushed off and told that my mother was
"just a pack rat" like it was some kind of joke. It's no joke to have to
get in and out of the house through some tiny little path of clear
floor or to be in daily fear that the house will catch fire or to be sick
from the dirt, the dust and the mold...

MESSAGE SENT THROUGH WEBSITE

This form was submitted:  Dec 29 2007 / 11:04:57

feedback =

I'm so grateful to have found this website and the
resources. I don't think anyone could understand the pain of living in squalor
from someone else's hoarding unless they have been there themselves.
I had to move back in with my mother a couple of years ago. These past
two years have been a daily ritual of endless frustration and anger for
me. I had no idea that my mother had this problem...I thought she was
just a little messy because she had a minor car accident and back pain.
At least that's what she told me at the time. She was usually pretty
neat.

So...no big deal, we will just help her clean things up..or so I
thought. It was actually futile for the most part.
I spent four days cleaning the kitchen alone. It was very hot, I had
all the windows open and couldn't run the fan because it had been broken
for some time. It was all I could do to not vomit with the dishes all
over the counter with rotting food, mold, dead insects. There were more
on the floor, pots and pans with more of the same. The floor was black
from dirt. I had never seen anything more disgusting in my life and
until then, I didn't know I could feel such a huge mixture of emotions at
one time.

I have to clean the kitchen twice a day to keep it at bay. In the past,
I have tried to clean other rooms, but it was either met with a great
deal of screaming and protest or the hard work I had done was quickly
unraveled by more messes. The house has not been dusted or vaccuumed in
about a decade. The piles of crap pile higher every month.
I tried to call social services once even. I tried to explain to them
about the situation, but I was brushed off and told that my mother was
"just a pack rat" like it was some kind of joke. It's no joke to have to
get in and out of the house through some tiny little path of clear
floor or to be in daily fear that the house will catch fire or to be sick
from the dirt, the dust and the mold. When I tried to talk to my mother
about it, she would only scream at me and tell me if I didn't like it
to get the hell out and once she even told me the mess was all my
fault.

I had to quit my job before I moved back here. I had tried everything I
could to hold onto my own home, but instead had to lose everything I
had and start all over again. It was painful enough to have to go
through that, to not be able to get any kind of help from anyone to keep my
own place, to have nowhere else to go but here, in a house that will
likely wind up getting condemned in the near future and of course, THAT
will be my fault as well.

I don't know what to do anymore. I feel as though it's useless to try
sometimes. I have a new job, but the pay is not good..I've been trying
to finish school, put some money in the bank and rebuild my own life
again..sometimes it seems impossible to do, but I keep trying. I don't
know how much longer I can take it with all this junk lying around and my
mother buying more and more when she is always telling me she can't
afford to have the house painted or the furnace replaced and GOD KNOWS
what is living under the carpet these days...I had to buy a refrigerator
because she wouldn't even pick one out. There it was 96 outside and the
fridge was 51 inside..enough, already, you know? Every time someone has
to come in here, I could just die. I'm mortified of the mess, the
insanity, the never knowing when it will end. I pray every day to escape
this. I guess I'm praying for a miracle.

Thank God you are here. I was really feeling like I was losing my mind
before I found your website. Thank you just doesn't seem like enough.