Message : I thought I would post a letter I sent to my hoarder over a
year ago. Of course I never got a response... She did comment that she
thought I, "must have been drinking and just sent it."  I love you too!
What would make me drink??

  Her response is consistant with what I have read here about there not
really being anything we can do.

I have out of my own embarrassment I guess, edited it in italics... to
protect the innocent...

Below is the result of your feedback form. It was submitted on
Wednesday, March 19th, 2008 at 07:48 AM.


Relationship : Daughter
Source : surfing
Message : I thought I would post a letter I sent to my hoarder over a
year ago. Of course I never got a response... She did comment that she
thought I, "must have been drinking and just sent it."  I love you too!
What would make me drink??

  Her response is consistant with what I have read here about there not
really being anything we can do.

I have out of my own embarrassment I guess, edited it in italics... to
protect the innocent.

Dear Mom,

I think writing a letter may be better, or easier than talking. I find
it more and more difficult to communicate with you, and this is not a
pattern I care to continue. Quite frankly, it scares me. What I fear
more is the effect it is having on me, and the frustration I have come to
feel about our “relationship”.

I have been home long enough to have relived more than I cared to, and
reevaluated most of who I am and why. Much of it has been unpleasant
and continues to be a struggle. So when I try to sort out my own
unhappiness, I find that I must at some point learn to confront the sources of
my frustration.

It bothers me more than you can imagine that I cannot come to your
house. I cannot sit down there. I cannot “visit” you the way you do at
my house, or at my brother and his wife’s house . I cannot help but
think you like it that way.
But when I walk out my door, I get to look at your
underwear(clothesline). It just seems like you’re making a statement.

Our conversations are consumed with the your interests and your dogs’
individual bodily functions, which I find simply disgusting. I don’t
think I would tell anyone if my dog pissed in my bed.

When was the last time you asked me how “I” was doing?

So when you want to take my truck 200 miles to buy tires for a car that
you haven’t driven in 20-30 years and can’t even get to, I really
have to wonder where we rate. Somewhere beneath your dogs, your
flowers, and your stuff.

I can’t ask you to return the favor. I did ask you to help me with a
window, but since it was important for you to bring an unleashed dog
along, you walked away from it … it fell and broke

I prefer not to have portions of food cooked in your kitchen, because I
have seen your kitchen.

You feel the need to bring dogs that are not house trained into my
house, and then find an opportunity time to let them loose.

I don’t know why you feel the attachment to things that you do. I
know that your stuff encumbers your life and often wonder what it might be
like if you could just start fresh one morning, without all the
“stuff”. Maybe it is your hedge (that was her Father’s barrier,
according to her). If it is, it is much more effective. Your children and
grandchildren, can’t visit you and haven’t for decades. Soon, you can
add your great grandchildren to that list. Maybe we don’t matter. But
what if you could hire an electrician to hook up your dryer, a plumber
to mount the appliance fixtures you want, or someone to fix the ceiling
in your dining room… what if you could… ?   What if you could
invite someone into your home… and you could offer them a seat and
something to drink??

I have read and heard that hoarding is an anxiety issue, and that
anxiety medication would/might be helpful with it. A dear friend of mine
even offered to come here and help you with it. (900 miles!)  I may have
been too embarrassed to accept. And I assumed you would not be receptive
to her help. I don’t know of anyway to help you. You have never
expressed an interest in changing anything. I don’t even know when things
got so out of control, but I think I may have been living there then.
I really don’t know how bad it was then.

I remember coming home once and taking my duffel bag to my room and
realizing there was no place for it or me. I took it back out to my car.
That is when and why I started staying at my brother’s when I came
home. He understood. After that, you and I would just go to lunch
somewhere. When my Significant Other was here, we visited Dad, my brother and
his family… but we couldn’t come to your house...

Whatever it is, it is obviously more important than we are, and you
find some security in it.

I don’t believe that you are content with the way things are. I
believe you are overwhelmed and don’t know what to do about it. I don’t
know how to help you and I don’t think you know how to ask for help.
We never learned to do that, and we all continue to pay a price for it.
Hell, we get defensive when it’s offered. Sometimes I think all we
ever learned to do was debate/argue. Have you ever noticed how many
times, “No”; is the first word in your sentence?

I think I am going to bed now. It was not my intention to hurt your
feelings, only to be honest about mine. I can’t continue to live this
way and I don’t think it’s fair to any of us.


I love you,

What2Do