My name is Izzy and I'm a hoarder.
At long-last, I've started the de-cluttering of my house. It started with Phase One of the garage clean-out this past July. A lot of sorting was done. Bags and boxes of stuff were given away to the thrift store, a lot was thrown away, some was recycled. Phase Two is to be scheduled.
Then I turned to the inside of the house. Drawers and closets became my victims. More stuff to the thrift store. Lots of trash to the dump. And unfortunately, some stuff moved to the garage. eek!
One day I was cleaning out my bathroom cabinet when I came upon 17--
seventeen--hotel shower caps. I looked at the pile, and I said out loud, "Whoa. I am a hoarder!"
"Duh," you may say, but it was a big light-bulb moment for me. Though my habits are mild in the great scheme of things, my cluttering habit had the potential to evolve into more of a problem. Deep in the dark corners of my closets and drawers, my secret lives.
I knew, of course, that I had the hoarding tendency. My spouse, like my siblings' spouses, has been an impetus to change. Though his complaining, pleading, ridicule, and arguments pushed me a little, it was really my own realizations and motivations that caused the change. Or I should say, the beginning of the change, as it continues to be a struggle.
I recently watched an episode of
Hoarders, streamed from Netflix, and I was able to identify with the gentleman who had such a hard time letting go of his "stuff." It was an emotional time for him, even though intellectually he knew that the things had no real value. I had a moment during the garage clean-up where I started crying when I found Kevin had thrown away an old puzzle from my childhood--one that had missing pieces and one that no one would find worthy of playing with. I grabbed the pieces out of the trash bag, crying, but I soon realized that the trash was really the place for it. And so, I put all the pieces back in the bag and let the puzzle go. (I'm tearing up as I write this. How odd to be attached to "things") It was another light-bulb moment.
I've compared notes with one of my siblings who is struggling and trying to change, too. Our victories are small, and different, but they are there. She has won out over hotel shampoo; I am victorious over shipping boxes. Ha! Take that, shipping boxes! It is laughable, but these are real struggles, and little by little we are overcoming.
The ways in which I'm overcoming are not only the physical sorting and throwing away, but a change in thought-patterns.
One thought change: Stop thinking that just because something has always been there/been that way, that it should stay that way. An example: I had a little tin box of a frog. I had kept pins and needles in there for years and years, but the darn little box was impossible to open. I practically broke a fingernail every time I tried (which, truthfully was not often at all--I rarely am in need of a straight pin!). So, I found that little box and I considered it. It had been around for a long time. And for a long time, it hasn't been useful. But it has always been there. I walked to the trash and I put it in. Just because it had always been there, didn't mean it deserved to stay.
Another thought-change. I am replacing the emotional milieu. Instead of accepting the good feelings that come with holding on to something, I am developing a positive emotional response to throwing something away. Throwing away is starting to feel good, instead of painful!
Another simple but profound thought-change: I can throw something away knowing that if I need it again, I can buy one. No need to keep things "just in case I can use it later." I know this seems obvious to many, but it is a huge learned mind-set, and I am changing it!
You normals out there may think that these changes are so simple and why would anyone need to change it anyway? You who know me may think this post is some sort of posturing or self-convincing, but it is all part of my process. Besides, if I put it in print, it is more real. Now I have to continue!
Experts say that there is both a genetic component and a learning aspect to hoarding, but I know that a large part of this disorder in me is learned. It would be great to be able to blame it on genetics so that I can say, "It's just how I am!" Knowing it is learned helps motivate me to believe that it can be
un-learned. And so, tomorrow, I clean out the corner cabinet in the kitchen and say bye-bye to vases and mis-matched glasses. Wish me luck!
By the way, I threw away all of the shower caps except for two for my travel bag. I confess it took me two tries. The first time I kept six of them, "just in case." Just in case what, Izzy? You sprout five more heads?
A close relative of Hoarding is Procrastination. This is something I'd like to change, too. But yanno what? I think I'll start on that one next week!
