Story sent in 2/12/07 by a daughter of a hoarder

This website is a Godsend! It's encouraging, but so sad, to
find out so many others are dealing with these issues.
I'm now in my 30s with a husband and home of my own, but my childhood experience is still
an integral part of who I am. My mom is a hoarder,...

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MESSAGE SENT THROUGH WEBSITE

This form was submitted:  Feb 12 2007 / 12:46:48


Daughter
HearAboutUs = other
story =

This website is a Godsend! It's encouraging, but so sad, to
find out so many others are dealing with these issues. I'm now in my 30s
with a husband and home of my own, but my childhood experience is still
an integral part of who I am. My mom is a hoarder, and I too grew up in
a house filled to the brim with newspapers, old clothes, moldy dishes,
rotten food in the frig, an oven that couldn't be used because it was
full of stuff, and piles of junk mail, used plastic baggies, and deli
containers on every flat surface. I lost several friends and a high
school boyfriend because they didn't understand why they were never allowed
inside my house. The shame and guilt I felt growing up was paralyzing.

Someone commented about how their mom's things and even TV programs
were more important than family. I never connected TV watching with
hoarding behavior until reading that, but my mom was the same way. I can't
count the number of times she was an hour or more late to pick me up from
after-school activities "because she got busy watching TV." If that
doesn't make a child feel unimportant!

My dad is an enabler, and often says that no one else but he can really
understand what my mom is going through. He's a kind man in every other
way, but he's never been able to stand up to my mom. I think he also
gets his own secondary gain out of being a victim to my mom's behavior.

My parents were forced to move in 2002. Those were the worst months of
my entire life. My aunt and I contacted Social Services to have them on
standby because we worried my mom would completely spin out of control
and endanger herself or those of us helping them move. The house was
set to be demolished and we had the recurring nightmare of my parents
scrambling to carry out all their junk when the bulldozer was at the door.
(Which is exactly what happened.) Anyway, Social Services said the most
validating, and frightening, thing to me: That if they had known about
my family's living conditions when I was under 18, they would have
removed me from the home. My parents consider themselves good Christian
people who would never intentionally harm anyone, yet that was proof they
had abused me!

We did succeed in moving them, although it took weeks of backbreaking
work and emotional trauma. Just one example: we threw away over 200
grocery bags filled with newspapers. The moldy carpet and walls underneath
all those piles was horrific. We tried to throw some things away by
stealth, but my mom picked things back out of the dumpster every night
after we left. She still accuses me when she can't find something that
"she knows she had at the other house." After all the blood, sweat, and
tears shed by me, my aunt, and my cousins, we never received so much as a
thank you for essentially rescuing my parents from being bulldozed with
the house. Of course, since this is a mental illness, I should know
better than to expect a thank you.

My husband has been in my parents' house one time in ten years. That
was right after they moved, so they could still explain the crap piled
everywhere as simply chaos from moving. (They insisted on moving a lot of
the garbage "to sort through later." Of course, five years later it's
all still sitting right where we left it.) God bless my hubby for being
so understanding, and for accepting my parents unconditionally into our
home for holidays. However, we're going to have our first child soon,
and he has put his foot down about our baby girl ever going to my
parents' house. I agree, but it's going to be very hard to explain to her as
she grows up why one set of grandparents is so involved and the other
isn't. I also feel sad for what my parents will miss - but again, it's
more evidence that their stuff is more important than their family.
They're both in their 70s now, and very soon we're going to have to face
the very unsafe reality of their living conditions as they age. The
re are fall hazards around every corner, and all but one entrance are
completely blocked. The hoarding is the same, even in the "new" house.
It didn't take mom long to accumulate more piles of newspapers, and
most recently, I found bags and bags of empty medication bottles. She has
several "mystery" ailments, including respiratory, which I think are
100% caused by living with so much dust, mold, and mice droppings.

So, life goes on and I continue to deal with the repercussions of
growing up the way I did. I have some elements of OCD too, but I think I've
achieved a healthy balance in my own life - thanks to my wonderful
husband, supportive friends, and counseling. Most of all, I understand now
that my mom's hoarding wasn't my fault or responsibility. (Although
I've always felt responsible for her emotionally, even as a child. That's
the hardest thing to overcome). If you're a child of a hoarder, the
best thing I can tell you is to find someone who will validate that you
had an extremely difficult and abusive childhood, but that you did a good
job surviving it!