TAKING THE HIGH ROAD

Taking the high road might be the right thing to do, but it sure ain't easy. I have thoughts of revenge popping up in my head. I keep telling myself that if she is behaving the way she is consciously I must take it as a compliment. How awesome must I be if she doesn't want me there? How afraid must she be of my wit, personality and presence if the only way she can compete is by not having me there?

I keep telling me it's over. For more than 2 years I have asked my self what is wrong with me that people don't want me around. Obviously nothing. The question is, what is wrong with her that she has to pretend to be my friend when she is not? This has sucked out so much energy of me. Not just this last week, but the last 2 years. It is time to heal and move on.

I have decided that I will have her help me with some mending. She is a good seamstress and this way she can do something for me and I can voice sincere appreciation. High road. Here I come. 

ANTIDOTE

They say you have to cut out toxic people from your life completely. It makes sense. I mean why would you consciously and willingly sit in poison ivy? That would be stupid. Or, unless you wanted to kill yourself, you wouldn't drink toxic liquids. 

I am not sure if I have the right definition for toxic people. So lets clarify. Toxic people for me are people who bring you down, make you feel small, destroy relationships. Manipulate you and others and play the game with you as the pawn who can easily be sacrificed, to protect the king, well yes, them of course.

Toxic people are what they are. Toxic. I wonder if there are different levels of toxicity? Like with poisons? And could it be that some are toxic because they simply don't know better?

I have decided to not play the game. I will not return a load of poison. I prefer to be naive and believe that people are nice. I'd rather get my feelings hurt again that run around adding poison to their lives.

I will stay nice and play nice. If you want to fight poison you need an antidote. I have decided that the only thing that can work against toxic people is love. I will stay kind. I will stay helpful. I will not change who I am because they treat me poorly. 

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!