So, yeah...this happened...

Last year, I was under 12+ years worth of clutter.

Last night, I had out-of-state visitors stay over.

Being a hoarder sucks.

I came home to a 'surprise apartment inspection' notice. Awesome. My insides liquified, my heart raced then dropped to my stomach, and I panicked.

I should be okay. If not, well...I should be okay.

But, seriously - being a hoarder fucking sucks.

Girl of 100 Lists - 2011.

family

two weeks in Hawaii

shark dive

third row for Duran Duran

a weekend of the Fixx

an 80s weekend with my favorite 80s bands

44

featured post at the3six5.com

cleared clutter in six weeks

people in my place for the first time

relapsed in six weeks

first piece of furniture in my place

writing - judged, defeated, pencils down

writing - fuck that, I'm good, resumed

friends - fun, laughs, love, bonds strengthened

Adele, Florence, GirlTalk, Mayer Hawthorne, G Love, Belle Brigade, ABC, Tony Hadley, Truth & Salvage Co

weddings

funerals

English Beat to close my year

Love Seat

do you want my love seat?

That was last Sunday's text from my friend, Bee. She just moved to Santa Monica. Turns out, her love seat didn't fit through the guest bedroom door frame.

oooooh. i have no way to get it and no place to put it yet. thanks for the offer though.

I know, I know. But, really, it's one excuse and one very valid reason.

Two days later - you sure you don't want the loveseat?

Two days after that - okay, i'll take it

My apartment only has two places to fit a love seat - the short interior wall/corner nook where my computer desk is or the longer exterior wall where my bookcase, chest of drawers and rolling clothes rack reside. I had to decide which was the path of least clutter.

For thirteen years, I imagined that interior wall space would someday be a cozy nook with a sectional or sofa and chair or even my dad's rocking chair. Instead, I filled it with boxes and bins, carts of cassettes and computer-related stuff. Out of sight, out of mind - put a computer desk over it! It was so easy to stack stuff under the desk - unwanted items, "I'll take care of that later" items, "What the hell do I do with this" items.

On Saturday morning, I took apart my computer desk. Wow! WTF?! I started to panic, feel overwhelmed and immediately thought to call Bee and decline the love seat. It was too much - too much stuff, too much for me to handle, too much. I stopped for a minute, sat down and looked around. What can reasonably be done here? What do I have and where can it go? I stared at the wall for a long time. The rolling clothes rack had to go. That was it. For the time being, I needed enough room to get the love seat into my apartment; its permanent place would be decided later.

Once the love seat was in, I got to work - moved the clothes from the rolling rack to the closet or into drawers, bagged up more clothes to donate, tossed out a few pairs of shoes and extra clothes hangers. I took the rolling rack apart, immediately taking those pieces down to the dumpster. There will be no clothing rack in my living room! I righted the love seat, pushed it against the wall and smiled.

This love seat is the first piece of furniture I've had in this apartment. I've always had clutter. It's not the cozy nook I imagined. But, it's a start.

NaBloPoMo 11.29 - Is Your Toilet Running?

It was a lovely Sunday afternoon. The windows were open, the music was loud and I sat at my desk, happily typing away.

tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap...tap tap tap tap snap thud flush whoosh

Can't be me - I'm sitting here.

No one else came in...geez! Did Jerry upstairs fall asleep in the bathtub again and crash through the bathroom ceiling?

Nope. It's just the toilet, running. Finally! I can put my plumbing skills to work. Oh, wait.

I remove the lid and stare inside the tank for an indeterminate amount of time. How does this thing even work? And, why is it not working now? Turns out, the right side of the tank thingy inside the big tank broke. No water was rushing out or gushing up, so that was a good sign. I couldn't turn the water off from below, slippery hands and all. I lifted up that arm thing and stopped the water. Whew! I just needed to find some sort of stop-gap thing because I certainly wasn't going to stand in the bathroom in my Mayer Hawthorne t-shirt and boy shorts holding that toilet tank arm thingy so water wouldn't run. Within reach were two things - a wooden incense burner and my Anthropologie 'mandle' (manly-scented candle) in a can. Bingo! Grabbed that can sans lid, stuck it under that toilet tank arm thingy. Sweet relief.

Now, this whole time, I am fucking panicking. My heart is racing, thumping in my throat. Broken toilet means tell the apartment manager. Broken toilet means said apartment manager will have to tell fix-it guy. Broken toilet means fix-it guy will have to come into my apartment. Come into my apartment. Fuck. Talk about needing a stop-gap. I did what could be done. The rest would just be.

Luckily, I catch the apartment manager a) in and b) clothed. I tell my tale. "Oh, yeah. That's happened to me. It happened to another tenant last week." Great. "The work order will go in now, but we won't be able to do anything about it until the morning." Uh...what if I, y'know, gotta go? "Do you have a bucket? You can fill the tank with water, tilt the inner tank and it flushes! Or, you can use one of the vacant apartments upstairs." Good grief!

I didn't have anything to eat or drink after 5:45 p.m. Sunday night. Of course, with every move of my body, I felt the urge, the need to pee. I closed the bathroom door. Out of sight, out of mind.

Monday morning, my apartment manager called with news of my newly installed toilet. Huzzah! Can't wait to get home.

Ugh. The toilet is small. And, low. Great, just great. It's LOW! You know how I feel about that.

Good-bye broken toilet.

Hello, water-saving-back-breaking-knees-will-be-aching new toilet.

05.24.11

If you haven't, you should check out this terrific blog The 3six5 - http://the3six5.posterous.com/. It's a journal written by people all over the world. Each day a new contributor shares his or her world in 365 words or less. For May 24, I was asked to pinch-hit. Below is my day.

This morning, I sat in the middle of my apartment surrounded by 2 laundry baskets and several gift bags. I was in full-on 'panic' mode because tomorrow the Los Angeles City inspector is coming in to inspect my apartment. This wouldn't be cause for alarm for most. For me, it's akin to a 4-alarm fire and I'm trying to find an escape route.

I am a compulsive hoarder.

Nine weeks ago, I made the commitment to clean up my crap. I had 12 years worth of stuff stacked, piled, crammed and hidden in every available space in my studio apartment. There were 2 paths – one to the kitchen, one to my bed. My nightstand was a stack of REAL SIMPLE magazines (I know, right?!), each one earmarked on articles about cleaning, clearing and living simple.

Three weeks ago, I had friends in my place for the first time ever. I was nervous and edgy and jumpy and freaking out my friends would look at my space with the same judgmental eyes as me. Chickens said “Stop being the hamster on the wheel.” But, it couldn’t be helped. Those feelings didn’t get tied up in Hefty bags like my clutter.

The shame and embarrassment of being a hoarder is often unbearable. The shame is oh so heavy. When I looked at my cleared space after everything had been tossed, I sat on that heavy shame, triumphant and proud. This morning, shame sat on my chest, crooning “Told ya so! Told ya so!” I listened and was this close to singing that familiar tune. I won’t. I can’t. I just can’t go back to ‘living’ with paths and stacks. I want to sometimes; I want the comfort and protection the clutter provided. I have to fight that. I have to find comfort and protection elsewhere (apparently, food is a good remedy for this, but, I digress).

It’s only been 3 weeks and some of the clutter is back. And, tomorrow, I have an apartment inspection. So, I sit here, thinking where I can cram these things and still pass inspection? And, what happens if I don’t pass?

4.23.11

In six weeks, I've cleared out over 12 years' worth of clutter. That's a helluva lot of clutter, let me tell you!

I've gone through clothes - shoved in closets, hanging on racks,folded in baskets, tossed here, thrown there, stuffed in drawers and balled up in suitcases. I've gone through drawers and bags stuffed with papers, old mail, cards, junk mail, magazines, scraps of paper with at-one-time meaningful scribbles & notes, business cards and other puzzling items. I've been celebrating my accomplishment in space I didn't have 30 days ago.

Yesterday, I was panicked and stressed...feeling so overwhelmed. I started with a small stack, a very small task. From there, I was able to move onto a 4-drawer bureau and cleared it out. That was quite an undertaking as each drawer was packed full of crap. I did a lot yesterday. But still had some strange feeling.

It came to me late last night - loneliness. What I'm feeling is lonely.

I've stacked and accumulated for more than a dozen years. These things were my protection, my comfort. I loathed and loved it all. Now, most of it is gone...and I feel exposed. It's weird. I don't miss any of it; but I miss it all...the collective.

I'll work through this, too. This is all new to me.

feels like the first time...

Up to my elbows with plastic grocery bags, I somehow maneuvered my keys into their proper slots in my front door. Twisting and turning to get in before groceries fell out, I saw my apartment. I truly *saw* my apartment.

I saw space where shoes had been. The shoes that now sit in my closet because I cleared out the clutter. I faced the hoarding that had been hidden and got rid of it. There was a lot of it. Shoes have replaced my secret.

I saw space where boxes once sat. The boxes that now sit in the dumpster along with most of their contents. I opened those boxes, faced the contents and got rid of it. I can walk through. I can dance through. I can move in my space.

I saw space where clothes had been piled, where REAL SIMPLE magazines had been stacked. I saw space where there been no space 30 days ago.

And, I fell to my knees and cried.

a little progress, a little piece

3 drawers cleared, cleaned out. I was able to toss most of the stuff in those drawers; though one was filled with pictures. Loads and loads of pictures spanning my life. It would have been so easy (and, typical) for me to stop and reminisce over each picture...but I didn't! Nope. I left them in the drawer and moved a few other related items in (frames, photo album, etc) to be dealt with and moved at a later date. It was easy to stick to my plan.

I moved the tea cups and saucers from the kitchen ledge to another drawer, taking time to wipe each one clean. I had earmarked an article in one of the REAL SIMPLE magazines oh-so-long ago, the idea sticking with me for a couple of years - use mismatched tea cups and saucers as jewelry holders. Brilliant! When I arrive home, my habit is to kick off my shoes at the front door, remove jewelry and drop it on the TV stand. When I leave home, my habit is to grab jewelry for the day and put on shoes. I need to remove that clutter from the front door area. So, with the tea cups and saucers fitting perfectly into one of the drawers, I moved my jewelry in...soooo cute! Necklaces, earrings and such in little tea cups; bracelets and bangles on saucers. I may have to move 'em to a bigger drawer so I can fit more tea cups in...but that's for another day.

I cleared out more...wait...ooh! I cleared out FOUR drawers! Yay me.

Then, I sat on the floor and sorted through papers. Good grief I have a lot of papers! Most of it is junk mail and coupons and PennySavers and crap and more crap. I went through a couple of bags stuffed with crap and a box of stuff previously in my car.

I now have clear space. Not little foot paths...true actual clear space. Space! I may actually be able to walk across my floor in the dark without my glasses. OK. That's a bit extreme (maybe)...but it's space. Space as a result of progress. Space as a result of me *doing something* instead of *saying something* - and it's a peaceful feeling. I did hit an emotional block. I did sit for a bit, anxious and stressing. So, I left it and moved to something else. That was new - moving on instead of sitting and wrapping myself up in the stress and emotion. I changed the music and moved around it.

I now believe my April 30th deadline is honestly truly doable. I believe I can do this. Hell, I AM doing it!

I'm proud of myself...and feeling a little peace.

Yeah, I feel good :)

progress...

made some today...yesterday, too...cleared clothes, magazines and such...didn't feel like much...then I looked at my apt...feels good! I didn't have much of the guilt...took more of a logical approach, particularly with the clothes. Good going today.

today

I awoke feeling oddly motivated. The ideas on just how to channel this motivation came fast and furious.

First, I joined Weight Watchers. I'd done it before, with moderate success; but, money was tight and something had to go. My sister joined last week; The Gentleman joined a month ago. Feeling inspired by both and oddly motivated, I found myself sitting in a meeting at 8:30 on a Saturday morning. A lot of information to take in. A lot of changes to be made. This is going to take a lot of motivation, inspiration and support. The Gentleman said "You can do this." My reply "I can and will." So, here I go...

Another feeling that overwhelmed me this morning ~ I am fucking sick of this fucking clutter! A friend asked to stay with me tomorrow night as he's 'in transition.' "All I need is your floor for one night." How pathetic it is that I can't give a piece of my fucking floor for a friend. I'd happily share my bed with him but he'd have to come IN to my apartment. Yeah. That ain't happening. This fucking clutter. Completely of my doing. I've been good with tossing as I bring in. That just keeps things status quo, doesn't get rid of anything. I put the clothes piled on the shoe rack onto hangers then hung 'em on the clothing rack. I stared at them for a long time. A very long time. Then, I shoved most into a black trash bag. I was completely honest with myself - I will NEVER wear that again, I have NEVER worn that, this doesn't fit. There were a couple of items I rescued. I looked at them, again...then tossed 'em out. The feeling wasn't the same as when I've tossed before. This time I was fed up! It just has to go. HAS TO GO! And, so one bag did.

Tomorrow is a new day. There are two storage bins that will be empty before the morning is over.

I'm doing it. Alone. But I have GOT TO GET THIS CRAP UNDER CONTROL!

NaBloPoMo 7.11 - Do Something!

For the past few weeks, I have been emailing a girl who came across my blog via NaBloPoMo. She asked several pointed questions about my compulsive hoarding; and I answered as honestly as possible. The last email she sent was interesting: No offense or anything but why don't you stop talking about it and DO something. No offense taken.

I talk about it because it is a huge part of me, my life. I talk about it because I need help to DO something. I talk about it because I can't be the only one struggling with hoarding. I talk about it because I need the support and encouragement and understanding. I talk about because if I don't, I will live with it, add to it and ignore it. If I don't talk about it and I live with it, add to it and ignore it, it will consume me. And I refuse to let that happen! I am bigger than this. I am better than this. I know I can't do this on my own. I have tried; and though progress is being made, it isn't enough.

DO something?! I am! I struggle every single day over throwing away a receipt, a magazine, mail, anything, everything. I threw out two boxes of junk mail and magazines yesterday. Damn, that was a lot. Small steps...but they keep moving me forward.

I've decided to do it 'their' way - throw that shit out. 'They' say it's so easy. 'They' say if there's no need for it, no use for it, throw that shit out. If you say so. Next weekend, that is exactly what I'm going to do.

I will need help. A couple of people who will keep me on task, tell me those green capris are not coming back in-style, the red shoes are too beat up to keep; a couple of people willing to help me out.

So...there...I have asked for help.

And it did kill me a little bit inside.

NaBloPoMo 7.5

I came across several blog posts and comments about compulsive hoarding. Like the impulse to pick at a scab, I read the blogs. As it turned out, most were nothing more than the hoarding entry from Wikipedia. The comments, however, were no copied paragraph. And, yeah, I read those, too.

A lot of the comments were professions of "I'm the complete opposite of a hoarder!" Quite a few were "Oh, I watch that show [Hoarders] and feel so sorry for the families that have to deal with hoarding..." Then, of course, there were the negative comments that got me all riled: "They're just lazy!" "Just throw that shit out!" "How can anyone live like that?"

Well, I am a compulsive hoarder and I am not lazy. If it were as easy as 'throwing that shit out,' I would have done it years ago! I wouldn't have agonized over four fucking handbags in the middle of my fucking apartment, wondering if I'd really get the fucking guts to send them to a friend. Yeah, this is exactly how I want to live my life! When I was a little girl, I dreamt of living in an apartment so cluttered that there would be goat paths leading to the bed, kitchen and bathroom. Yep, I imagined piles of clothes everywhere; imagined every flat space stacked with mail and magazines. My big dream of having no one visit my apartment - absolutely no one inside - has come to fruition. How many people can say their biggest dream has come true?

Hey thanks - your compassion is overfuckingwhelming.

NaBloPoMo 7.4 - Saving Myself

"Many people live with a tormentor in their head that continuously attacks and punishes them and drains them of vital energy. It is the cause of untold misery and unhappiness, as well as of disease. The good news is that you CAN free yourself from your mind. This is the only true liberation." ~ Eckhart Tolle

Today will be my Independence Day...freedom from this clutter.

Freedom - my freedom - will be a change of mindset.

NaBloPoMo 7.2 - Save it for Later

When I finally faced my compulsive hoarding a couple of years ago, I had to speak it out loud to others. It was tough to do that, tough to face. Hell, it's *still* tough to say it, face it. I received a lot of support and strength from friends and strangers. Those words continue to hold me up.

One such supporter is Melanie. I am not quite sure how it came about, but I told her she'd get my handbags. For a year or so, I have had a pile of handbags to send to her. I would move them from here to there; out of the box, back into the box. I saved the bags because 'what if' I wanted to use the yellow one again, someday? I saved them for later, certain I would need/use the bags again. Some of the bags were added back into rotation. Some were used for storage. OK, some are still used for storage.

Last week, I brought home an empty box from work, put 4 bags into it and took the box to my car. The next day, wrote out a label & card, taped that shit up and drove to the post office. All the while, aching to rip open the box, as if it were a gift for me, and use the bags. Well, not really use them as much as dump them in the middle of my floor so that I still have them. I didn't. Luckily, there was no line at the post office otherwise that would have been the case.

Melanie has the bags now. I'm sure she'll enjoy them. If she doesn't, I am okay with that. I was able to move past this hurdle. It's a huge small step for me.

Moving forward, taking small steps, making progress.

bit by bit...

Baby steps. I'm making them, taking them.
I do a bit then I take a break. It isn't as overwhelming this way.
It doesn't show much progress either, but some has been made.
One pile of mail to sort through; 3 piles of clothes; assorted 'other' piles to tackle as well. And the shoes. Ugh. Gotta find a place for the shoes.
Hoarders is on the television right now. Oh, great, it's a marathon. :::exhale::: The questions being asked are helpful...I can use them while I go through my stuff. Well, let's be realistic - I will ask; just wonder if I will talk myself right around the questions...?
This is tough.

The hidden beauty of hoarding

This is me. Irene is me.
While I find absolutely NO beauty in hoarding, I find truth and me in this story.
I am breaking, people. I cannot keep the breakdown at bay.
This sucks. I am looking for help. I am asking for help.

The last word: The hidden beauty of hoarding - The Week

Creative Writing Homework 04.06.10

Homework assignment - our character experiences an epiphany that alters his/her life. This didn't turn out how it was supposed to...

I've been writing my homework for three days. It's not coming. Well, that's a half-truth ~ words for my homework are not coming. Words for what's rolling in my mind are coming fast and furious. It's this damn clutter! Clutter, mess, compulsive hoarding, piles, piles, piles, mess. I've stopped making progress. I was content to sit back and accept what I had accomplished and call it done. I was content to test myself, ensure I could maintain, not undo what I had done. "I'll just lay this sweater here. I'll hang it up later/tomorrow/this weekend." That sweater was covered by this shirt and that scarf and this jacket and this sweater and these magazines and this jacket I wore because that other jacket is is somewhere in this pile. OK, hang it up. Okay - moving forward. Aw crap! Now it's wrinkled! I have to iron it/take it to the cleaners. There's a pile for that over here but it's too high, so I'll leave it in this pile so the clothes don't fall and create a mess. All the clothes are wrinkled so I'll just leave them where they are. And that's what I do. That's how I think. Twisted, right? Yeah, it is. You can say it. And, as I clear out my living space, I've noticed the weight gain. Losing protection in one area, transferring ti to another. I started to tell myself that it's focus - focus on my apartment now, focus on me later. Then I realized what I'm doing - the protection thing. The overeating is causing some minor health issues that scare the fuck outta me. Yet, I continue to overeat. Most of the time, I stop myself. But the emotions need to be quelled and food is what does it. Sadly, I can't have the final Creative Writing class at my place. I wish I could see it as a goal instead of feeling it as pressure. Then Mom called upset that I won't let her help me. She doesn't understand why I will allow my friends to help but not my own mother. Shame humiliation embarrassment. That's why she can't help.

Open the Door and Let Him In...

Six people have been in my apartment since confessing I am a hoarder.

The 7th person came in today.

I haven't had gas in my apartment for ten years. Yeah, I know. I've had no heat. I use the microwave or crock pot to cook, or simply order take-out. Today, I had the gas turned back on in my apartment.

I spent most of the morning cleaning & clearing more stuff, clearly wishing I had a normal apartment before letting someone else in. The guy knocked around 1 o'clock and I hesistantly let him in.

To his credit, he didn't startle or blink. But after the third time out then in, he said "My mom and sister are hoarders. Like, really bad. Like the ones on that TV show." Blink blink "I'm a hoarder myself. But not like the ones on TV." Then he walked out. Blink blink He did his thing ~ lighting the pilots, cleaning the vents and lines and such. I told him my apartment has been a work-in-progress for 2 years. He said congrats and told me to keep moving forward. Then, he left.

I'm encouraged now more than ever.

Creative Writing In-Class Assignment 02.16.10 - Look What I Found in the Dumpster...

We're given a prompt and 12-13 minutes to write...

Look what I found in the dumpster...

it's my life...in black Hefty trash bags!

I spent my Monday morning in the throes of decluttering. You'd think I'd have nothing left in my apartment...you'd be incorrect, Sir!

Like I said, I spent my Monday morning decluttering. I started with a set of drawers - purposedly untouched because I know what lurks inside. Bills, magazines, receipts, mail, letters, notes, crap, crap and more crap.

Crayons, markers, coloring books. Really?

Boxes of stamps and ink from my "crafty" period.

Tons of scrapbooking items from my "craty" period, phase II.

Pictures from my last day of teaching in 2000 of kids I don't remember.

Cards from people all over the world congratulating me on my pageant win. In 1997.

Without thought, these pieces of me were thrown into black trash bags, tied up and left outside my apartment door. I moved on to three stacked drawers and attacked with the same fervor and absence of thought - toss, tie, outside the door.

As I dragged the last of six bags down to the dumpster, I stared at the scene. Pieces of me and my life in six black trash bags, sitting in a dumpster. I ran upstairs and right into bed.

I thought this process would be freeing, lifting a burden, relief and release. Not yesterday. It was almost paralyzing. It's left me raw and exposed and feeling extremely vulnerable.

I know this is a good thing. Or, it will be. But yesterday, I found pieces of me in the dumpster and that sucked.