My problems with collecting and acquiring remained somewhat under control as long as I had someone here at home to share my losses and joys.
Then my parents died, my ex-husband left for another woman and my daughter left for university. My brother, my other close relative, remains too far away. (Dear, complex person that he is, my brother and I are so much alike that we often drive each other crazy.) Where is my incentive to clean up my home or control my purchases, when one is here to share my losses and joys? Any potential romantic partners are frightened away by the clutter blocking the door. I seem to be stuck here, alone, in my cluttered cave. However, to be fair, my daughter describes me as a virtual social butterfly. I delight in my friends and activities OUTSIDE my home. It is only here, at home, that I feel isolated and alone.
Trauma often tips people into hoarding behaviour
Many hoarders point to major life traumas as the beginning of their complete loss of acquisition control. The death of my mother in March 2000 was one of the first of several major traumas in my life. My brother and I had to make several extremely difficult decisions regarding her end-of-life care. She had been the moral and emotional anchor for my family. Her death left a huge void for both of us.
I brought back a van load of memories from my parents' house. My ex-husband, who is a minimalist, was floored -- and protested vehemently. I was in deep mourning, and he interpreted my vacant stares (from dealing with my grief) as lack of interest or respect for him. Within a few years, he had begun an intimate relationship with a co-worker.
His affair and eventual abdication was my second major whammy. I went into a major depression.
Unfortunately, the affair and marital breakup came at the same time as my daughter's graduation from high school and leaving for university. Suddenly the three-legged stool that I often used as a metaphor for my family was horribly off balance and broken. Kirstin was not home to share my grief over the loss of the marriage. In fact, my sudden weakness frightened her. I had been the strong one in the family, but now I was weak, almost helpless, with grief and depression.
It was a difficult time for both my daughter and me -- and probably for my ex-husband as well. (He has since married the other woman and moved out of the country.)
Acceptance of loss and move to a new home
Seven years ago, I accepted the reality of my loss of partner/lover and removed myself from the scene of the disaster. I have rebuilt my life, but I still mourn the loss of that three-legged stool of a family that meant so much to me. I felt that my heart had been torn, still beating, out of my chest. The area is healing, but at times, it is still aches.I have worked hard to re-establish myself in this new place, which has been wonderful from the very beginning. I have many new friends, a wonderful new church and a new "normal" that is mostly pleasant. I have added many new skills to my repertoire and tried to create the "me" that I want and hope to be. But I still grieve the loss of the three-legged stool that was my treasure.
Comfort Food
Often I have purchased food, music, books, gadgets and other possessions for comfort. I have tried to purchase perceived solutions to my problems. None of these purchases, however, gave me someone to share my joys and sorrows with. They were just hollow substitutes. I know that, intellectually, but that doesn't stop my drive to acquire.The acquisitions became compulsive -- or maybe they were always compulsive.
(I realize this post sounds very sad and negative, but I will fashion a new, more upbeat reality that represents my healing self. I am just sharing the depth of despair that prompted the worst of the problem. Luckily, I also have a good sense of humour.)
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