WHY YOU WANT TO DECLUTTER

I know that quite a few times we tend to ask:"why I should I do this?" Well here is why. You remember one of my favorite clutter spots? That space of floor between my bed and the window? It attracks clutter like a pile of s*** attracts flies. It usually starts with a ppiece of clothing thatI took off right before going to bed. Then you never now, a quick emeergency clean up somewhere else a baskedt of stuff to be there "just for the afternoon" and before you know it. Voila. Mt Clutter. I'Ve watched it grow over thelast few days, maybe more like 2 weeks and foudn excuses every day why it can wait one more day. I finally decluttered it. okay. Shifted some, but cleared the whole areay, got rid of quite a bit, dusted vacuumed and was quite proud of myself. Wouldn't you know it 36 hours later with Ella sleeping in my bed, THIS happenend.

5:30 am she needed to go to the bath room. Swings her feet out of MY bed (poor me ran off to the couch in one of the kid's rooms. IT is quite comfy I must admit) somehow, even thought the sunis up already and she should be able to see, swings right into my tall reading lamp. Of course the reading lamp falls over. James's is mostly metal, mine has a nice milky glass lamp shade. OR should I say had? Well,it falls, hits the marble window sill and explodes into 1 million little fragments. I think I was standing upright onthe couch from that crash. Sank back decided I am too tored and wanteed to sleep. Fortunately my subcvoncious managed to get through to my concious brain and told it that the soudn came from my room, that it was GLASS, that there ar kids sleepingin there and that I had to ACT NOW! Miss Sleepy Head just stared at me. Glass on the floor, the window sill, the bed. EVERYWHERE! VEry fun to clean that up at 5:30 am, but if this had happend just 2 days early I would have had glass shards all over clothes and 2 baskets full of hoard with the promise of cutting my fingers any time I touched any of that. 

So keep in mind, things will happen. You'll break something. Spill something. And curseyourself for getting it all over your hoard. I think it took less than 5 min to clean it all up. And admist feeling sorry for losing that lamp and for myself for not being in bed anymore I was just happy the area was cleared and things were simple. 

Do ask me next week if I got rid of the lamp...

HEAD LICE. AGAIN!

Seriously. I don't need this. I spent my morning hunting for head lice. At least there is no school today.  Found them on 4 out of 7 heads. More or less shaved one of them. 4 mm of hair left. Brother thinks it looks cool and wants his head shaved, too. I shall oblige. When I was finally done checking and treating I was too worn out emotionally to continue.  I finally got my courage back up around 7 pm to start stripping beds. Turned the wash on at 8. House is falling apart. Clutter everywhere. Why oh why would I wish to go on with this? Nicole would say:"First world problems." So what. They still stress me out. Maybe, just maybe tomorrow will be better.

THIS WEEK'S EFFORTS

I am proud to say that this week's efforts have paid off. The downstairs was clean on time and still is clean. (Although I can already see it deteriorating.) The upstairs was only halfway done, but I shut the door to the playroom and locked my bedroom. Silly, I know, but I did feel a strong need for privacy.

The girls's room ended up being the surface of the day and the 5 a day ended up being random pieces of "art", a ball with almost no air in it and a McD.'s toy. None of them was hard to part with.I felt a pang of guilt with the plastic princess, as it wasn't mine, but ever since we had it she's been lying around on the floor and she simply isn't of any use to play with as she is bolted to a piece of plastic. I guess you could display her on a shelf. But that's the end of her usefulness.

My drop zone had 6 or 7 baskets full of stuff and 2 piles of clothing that were supposed to create a brand new abominable pile next to my bed. The boys's room was a terrible mess. Instead of just doing what I am good at and hiding the baskets in my room I challenged my son Matt. Object of the game was to clean up 17 things. He in his room, I from the upstairs landing. We ended up playing 5 rounds. Amount of things to clean up varied from 17-47. We picked a new number each round to keep things interesting. He ended up beating me 4:1 (First round went to me) but the true victory was that I ended up with just 3 baskets in my room. One of them has mostly stuff to be ironed in it. Yes.

I still have 3 baskets there but I have gotten far in the last 6 months. I am starting to deal with my problem differently. I am happy with my progress. Very happy!

HARDER THAN I THOUGHT

5 a day proves to be harder than I thought. Some days it seems rather easy. Others I really have to look for things I can get rid of, which in a house as full as mine is enough proof, that I have a hard time parting with things.

The easiest for me are things I can pass on, that somebody else has use for. I am learning to chuck kid's "art" without thinking twice. Too many times have I seen the things brought home from school, dropped in the hall to never be looked at again by the artist. I have gotten rid of what feels like 5217 pieces of art in the last 4 weeks and so far not a single one of them has been missed by it's creator.
Next on the list are cheap toys. You know, the stuff you get with your meal at a fast food restaurant or the little surprises in cereal and don't ask me where else.

Still among the hardest are things that "are still useful" but nobody else wants them and interestingly enough I don't have any use for it either. I am working on reprogramming my brain about usefulness.

I  must say though, that it has helped me in various ways. As I like to win, having a quota to fill makes me search until I find something. And even when I am done, I keep my eyes open to find more things that can go. It seems that assessing everything I see makes it easier to throw away things. I also notice things more that I need to get rid of and I am learning to just chuck things in passing, like the terrible doormat I had. Left, the house this morning, picked it up while shuting the door, threw it in the trash and hopped into the car. Yup. That easy.

IT WAS BETTER

Today was better. A lot better. Most likely due to some ibuprofen. I might only have gotten 90 min in, but I can claim that I have started decluttering again. Admittedly  I am sorting through stuff that only came in yesterday, but 3 big black bags are 3 big black bags. I not only made it through the first bag, but I also found out which size for boys clothes my friend Jane needs so I can pack a bag, straight for her.

I am motivatd. Highly motivated. It's break through time. I can feel it. I can see it. I did not let the first half of the week get me. I pulled through with the plan for the rest of the week and so far. I can do this. I am strong. And I will be happy. It's my choice!

LOSING WEIGHT

Don't worry. I will stick with hoarding. The author of a book I read on decluttering claimed that if you let go of your physical clutter, you will be able to let go of your emotional clutter and you will also be able to lose those extra pounds you've been battling with for years.

An interesting aspect. So is being overweight just one more symptom of my hoarding? Or am I overweight because I am worried my hoard will suffocate me if I am thin and fragile?

Shouldn't it also work the other way round? If I let go of my extra pounds or my emotional clutter I should be able to part with all those unnecessary items?

Well. If decluttering helps me lose weight I am even more motivated to finally learn to let go!

THE RAINBOW CLOUD

On the way home one day, I saw one of the prettiest things up in the sky. It was a big cloud. It was bright an colorful. I am not sure how to describe it, but the cloud was like a fluffy piece of rainbow. I showed it to the kids but they were rather unimpressed by it. Sometimes it looked as if it was fading, then the colors came back stronger again. Once home, I pulled James out of the house to show him. "So what," he said. "But isn't it pretty?" I couldn't understand why I was the only one who simply fell in love with that cloud. I ran to get a camera.  James shrugged his shoulders and was about to go back inside. I took my sunglasses of. AH! Too late. Rainbow cloud gone! Then it hit me. I put the glasses back on. I passed them on to James. Suddenly he understood. It was pretty. Very pretty. The rainbow cloud was only visible with the filter of the sunglasses. Once you took the glasses of it looked liked any other old cloud.

I guess it is the same with the hoard. Some filter makes us see rainbows where others see clouds.

HOARDERS ARE PEOPLE, TOO

Rumor has it that hoarders are not only people, but even smart people, sensitive people. I would like to agree. I am, at least that is what people tell me. I love helping others. I love to produce that high chair they need, or to be able to supply that sewing machine they need just this one time. It makes me feel important. Hm. Is this the answer? Is this why I am hoarding? Maybe it's a part of the answer. I think the truth is a little more complex. Hoarding is definitly an issue on the maternal side of my family. This might also be the reason why I am not clompetely drowned in clutter. I've seen 2 homes drowning in stuff and the sight wasn't pretty. It is very easy for me to spot it as "ridicilous" with others. Maybe having it close to home helped me be alert and on my toes. I have been fighting my clutter all my life. At the moment I am not sure who is winning.

Many times I've accused my self of being to lazy, too unorganized or even too stupid to get a grip on things. As long as I can remember I kept stuff for it's "sentimentals value". I love to think that the "hoarder label" is not for me, that Ican get away with being "chronically disorganized". Watching the US show "Hoarders" helped me to face the truth. At first I cried. It couldn't be. Me? A mental disorder? What would people think? Would they still love me? Then it hit me. I didn't decide to have a mental disorder, just like no one decides to hace cancer. And just like you keep loving someone with cancer, people will love me, eventhough I am a hoarder. I realized that being able to put a name onit actually sets me free. I am no longer: "toolazy", "too stupid", too anything to keep my house in order. I simply have aproblem and now that Iknow what it is I can start fixing it. IF I had cancer  everybody would come running to help. They would cook meals for me, take my kids to school, pick me up after chemotherapy. They wouldn't stop loving me just because I had cancer. Being a hoarder makes me no less lovable. It just means I need support in different areas.
I am not sure if I prefer having a mental disorder over being lazy but at least I can take a different approach. I am not a failure. I am a hoarder, and as you know:

Hoarders are people, too!

A DAY OFF

Make sure you take a day off every week. I personally chose Sunday. On Sundays I am free. I can sit and relax and do as I please. I can read a book, play games, do what ever. Guilt free. Everybody deserves a break. No matter how cluttered your living space is. You need time to be yourself. To enjoy life. Even if the clutter isn't cleared yet. Especially if it isn't cleared yet! You need lots of energy to work through it all. So take a break, recharge your batteries. Take a deep breath and simply:

 ENJOY LIFE!

SHE SAW THE HOUSE!

My friend stopped by unexpectedly. She had had a bad morning and felt like cleaning up. It didn't take much to convince her that this place was  a lost case I had no clue were to start and we simply sat down and chatted for a while. "But she was here to help you" you might think. Guess what. She did. She made me feel that it was okay. There was no need to change the situation, which always makes me feel like people are trying to change me.

Of course I would have felt better if the house had been cleaned up. But hey. It wasn't. I would have prefered for her not to see it like this. But she did. And she was just fine. Even if it is exactly the opposite of what she has at home. I feel loved and accepted. And that is just what I need to feel to get the inner strength to change things!

COPING STRATEGIES

Being a hoarder, the hardest of course is parting with stuff. Any excue will do to keep it. Having a good strategy will help. I am still working on strategies to actually part with stuff, but I have a few strategies that help me not to drown in clutter. "Why different strategies?" you wonder. Because different problems need different solutions. The stuff is different. I feel different. The situation is different. So different approaches are needed. I will introduce them to you one by one. But here is a little teaser to keep you interested.

• one by one
• 10 magic minutes
• the imaginary line
• 5 a day
• the box approach
• emergency clean up aka the box approach  

You are dying to find out. Aren't you.

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!

CHAOSQUEEN

Yup. That's me. Fortunately I am not soley described by chaos. I would describe myself as smart (at least most of the time). I am fun to be with. I do have my occasional creative moment. I am trusting, (borderline naiv). I can be hard working (once I get started). I am compassionate. I love people and I love attention.  I love languages. I am rather sentimental. I prefer being in control. I like things neat and organized. Structure helps me stay sane. I love the beach and the Ocean. I love mountains. I enjoy reading. I am a chatterbox.

And I am a HOARDER.

What a dreadful word. It is full of despair. It reeks of greed. A cave and a vile dirty creature protecting it forms in my image. I don't see myself as a hoarder, even if that is the official label. Forgive me for not being able to give you the name of the woman who said it. She was featured on the US show "Hoarders". She said. "I don't see myself as a hoarder. I see myself as a saver. I save things." My sentiments exactly. I save perfectly functional, usuable things from going to the dump. But just like saving 27 starving kittens off the street will be more than you can handle, saving everything that "could still be of use" will eventually be more than you can handle.

I've reached that point. I am drowning. The things that are piling up are suffocating me. I need to break free. I want to live my life and not be the queen of my little chaotic realm. As I have said before. I am a chatterbox. Talking helps me work through things. So does  writing. I have started this blog as a therapeutic tool to work through my emotions.

I don't know how you found my blog.

• If you are reading this and you are a hoarder yourself. May my journey help you.
• If you are reading this and are a friend or a relative of a hoarder, may my blog help you to gain a better understanding and help you be gentle with the hoarder in your life.
• If you are reading this blog, simply because you stumbled over it, may I be able to entertain you and make you laugh.

No matter who you are. I hope I can tell my story in a way that touches you. So you can see:

HOARDERS ARE PEOPLE, TOO