HOW IT STARTED

Guess what. It never did. Seriously. There is no set point in my life when hoarding started. At least none that I can remember. No tragic death or seperations. No burnt down house. No broken relationship. Not even a dead puppy.

I like to think that I was trained to be a hoarder. My grandparents lived through WW I and II and the aftermath of those wars. They expirienced the Great Depression. What could be used, would be used. If something was available that you might need later, you got it. If something was offered for free, you didn't hesitate. It was either useful to you, a kin or it could be sold or traded.

My parents grew up in the years after WW II. They expirienced food stamps and all the other things that came with it. Shoes were worn until the fell off your feet. Clothes were mended, or the material used for new clothes or quilts.

I grew up in a house in which before throwing a thing away you asked yourself:"Could this be of use still?" With a vivid imagination (yup, mine is VERY vivid) the answer pretty much always was:"YES."

Wouldn't it be lovely to blame them? It is my parents fault! Even my grandparents are to blame! I was trained to be a hoarder! Ther is nothing I can do about it.
It would be lovely indeed. I would be free of guilt and free of responsibilty. It would also be a lie.

I AM THE ONE

• who collected all the things.
• who decided they are worth keeping.
• who, when going through the stuff refuses to part with them.
• who stacks up boxes all the way to the ceiling because there is no more room for the stuff to go elsewhere.

It wasn't my parents. Or even my grandparents. It was me. No way around it. 

All my life, even as I kid, I saw things as either potenially useful still or they had a certain sentimental value. I was always aware that I have a hard time parting with things, but I never saw that as a problem. The challenge was to keep it sorted and available. For the moment it would be useful. I stored things in bags and boxes. I stored things in dressers, on top of wardrobes and under my bed. I used every little corner available. I did go through my stuff many times and parted with things, but most of it I kept and took with me the times I moved. (Sometimes still sealed in the box from the previous move). Not having a "start" makes it impossible to work with what triggered it. To work through the emotions of that event and to let go of hoarding. As it is I have to take a different route.

I ask myself. Why am I doing this? What is the emotional benefit of keeping all this? How would it feel to not have it? It is time for change. Time to free myself!