My mom needs a shovel...

This is my mess.  Well, this is a small portion of my mess:

I've been home sick from work this week and my mom stopped by to check on her "baby" and bring some supplies.  She was instructed to make no comments about the mess.  I am very, very embarrassed about my mess.  I don't invite people over for this reason.  I tell people that I'm a hoarder, but I honestly don't think many people actually believe me.  And I never give anyone a chance to really find out as I refuse to let people see this mess.  Well, there's a photo of my mess.  Hi world, see my mess?

My mother was good about not commenting.  Except for one.  She said she would like to bring a shovel and help me clean.  See, to her, this is a mess and most of it can be tossed in the trash.  But to me, I can justify everything on that pile.  Every. Single. Thing.

That empty box?  I'm saving it for when I move so I can put my HK grill in it.  The black bag?  That's my dremel that has no shelf to live on.  Those empty grocery bags?  They are my trash bags, with nowhere to store them.  That shelf on the top right edge of the photo is full of stuff.  That pile of clothes sits on top of more completely full storage containers.  My couch has sadly become a storage area.  Purses, jackets, stuff for work, my quesadilla maker, and lots and lots of stuff from school--artwork, text books, framed photographs, a box of photographs.  Pillows, my robe, all of my cameras, piles and piles of mail, pads of paper, markers...all without a true home.

Behind the couch is my dog crates, kane-dog's has stuff stacked on top.  The only reason Dixie's is clean is because she chews anything I put on top.  Except for the vacuum attachment, which I've recently started storing up there.  The treadmill behind her crate, yeah, it's got stuff on it too.

My two sets of shelves are full.  My two closets are full.  And it's not like I have a bunch of useless junk either.  One closet is full of clothes that I wear.  All of it.  The other closet is storage.  Winter coats, pet supplies, my ski boots and rollerblades, stuff like that.

Ok Mom, bring the shovel.  I challenge you to not only help this hoarder organize, but also to find places for everything without a home.  I'm creative and I'm really good at puzzles, but this is one puzzle I can't seem to figure out.

e

The stuff that haunts me...

About a year and a half ago, I celebrated my 34th birthday.  My sister was gracious enough to host a small gathering at her house.  While there, I opened some birthday cards from friends and family, some from the party attendees and others that I had recieved in the mail and brought along with me.  I have a habit of not only keeping the cards, but keeping the envelopes the cards came in.  My friends and family put thought into those envelopes (at least in my mind) when addressing the cards to me.  Some used my nickname, some had to write out my address and their return address, and some decorated the envelopes with doodles and/or stickers.

My sister is very aware of my "problem" with keeping stuff.  As well intentioned as she thought she was being, she wouldn't let me keep my envelopes.  And here it is, a year and a half later and I'm still thinking about those damn envelopes that I didn't get to keep.

And speaking of lost "stuff" that haunts me, back when Dave and I lived in our first place, we were doing some tidying in preperation for our move to our house, and he threw away my license plates.  They weren't just any license plates.  They were from my first car.  And they were imprinted, not like the plates of today where the letters and numbers are just painted on.  I shouldn't care about these stupid plates, but yet I still think about them every so often.  Wishing I still had them.

This is why I have a really diffictul time throwing anything away.  Will I regret it later?  Will I still be thinking about it 5, 10, 30 years from now?  Better safe than sorry, keep it.  Let it add to the piles I've created.  If my piles get too big, I can always take a load to the storage unit.  That's what the unit is for, right?  To keep "stuff".

People don't understand how difficult it is to toss stuff away, unless they are hoarders themselves.  That's why when Kate, or Dave, or even my mom threw some of my "trash" away, they thought they were helping, but in reality, they were making things worse.  The only person that can toss my stuff is me.  I have to make that decision.  Me.  Not you.  While I appreciate the offer and I know everyone is well meaning, it's not helping me.  I end up collecting more things to fill up the hole that was left from my missing stuff.

So I started reading a book last night.  Stuff, by Gail Steketee.  Gail is a professor of human development or something (I could probably look it up to get my facts correct, but that part is irrelevant for now) and she did some case studies on hoarders.  This book is the result.  I read the first chapter and was able to relate to a lot of what "Irene" (Gail changed all the names for privacy) had to say about her stuff and why she keeps what she keeps.  I'm looking forward to reading the rest of the chapters, but a little frightened that I'll see myself in others studied in the book as well.  As I sit here typing this, I'm looking at my couch that is currently covered with my "stuff"....and I can justify every. single. thing. on it.

At least I'm aware I have a problem, right?

e