I must confess…I am a clutterer. Not someone who just has a few things here and there lying around…I mean the type who walks through the house using paths and stepping over junk. I’ve come to this realization just today, or at least, I am now admitting it. Having watched a couple of episodes of the television show “Hoarders” last night, I realize I have a problem. I’m no hoarder-I don’t necessarily want to keep all this stuff. It’s just dealing with the “stuff”-it is overwhelming.
This problem has plagued me my entire life in some way or another. However, I had a major driving force behind me that managed to keep me in line most of my life-my mother. She was on the “neat freak” side of things, so I couldn’t get away with a messy bedroom for long. When I moved into my own place when I was 22, I struggled to keep it de-cluttered, but always managed to do so to accomodate visitors. When I returned to this area, I kept the house halfway neat most of the time, knowing my parents could drop by at any time.
Since my mother passed away, however, things have progressively gone downhill. My house wasn’t terribly messy when she died, but it wasn’t long before I was bringing some of her “stuff” home, which I really didn’t want to deal with at that time. So, it sat in boxes in the corner of my kitchen. They arrived there in 2003…and remain there to this date. Things kept accumulating in that area, with a possible underlying factor being me trying to hide it and not deal with it.
For a couple of years it was stuff in the corners of the kitchen, the spare room, some in the bedroom, and some in the corners of the living room. I could still have visitors over in the living room, and could make an excuse for everything else as being “in transition” as I re-organized the house. That worked for awhile, but then I went back to school to finish my degree-and spent even less time maintaining the house.
The clutter continued to pile up, and eventually it got so overwhelming that I just couldn’t deal with it anymore. I could not have anyone over to the house, and was mortified of someone coming to the door and wanting to come in the house. The thought of digging in and trying to clean it up causes me great anxiety-at times I wish that a tornado or something would just come along and blow it all away. It would be a liberating experience.
But I am to the point that I know I must do something, and cannot keep making excuses to keep from cleaning. I am looking to ways to keep my life clutter-free from here on out, like downloading movies and books instead of purchasing. But I need to deal with what is there now sooner or later.
So, the quest begins. For most of my life I cleaned to satisfy my mother’s expectations, but now I have to do it for myself. Baby steps…