A friend recently contacted me and asked, if she could use my girls for the subject of a report she has to do for college. She promised me that there would be nothing identifiable about them used, and my husband and I are okay with that. We understand that the genetic issue with them is rare, and as a result we are approached occasionally by friends or even someone who has worked with them medically over the years for this very reason.
Normally, I'm interviewed about them, but my friend lives across the country from me, and with her work and school schedule and the time difference she asked, if I could just write as much as I could about them in an email, and then she'd call me and ask me any questions she might have once she got started on the paper. I agreed to that as well, but I was surprised at how long it took me to write everything out. There was a lot to remember. Six hours later I pushed the 'send' button.
I found myself back in time watching the movies in my head of different things that happened over the years. I realized that we really went through an extraordinary amount with the girls, and I realized that I don't know that I've really processed it all. I think in many ways that I've pushed it aside to deal with later, and as a result much of it feels like it didn't happen to me. I know in my head that it did. I know my heart broke a thousand times with what they went through. And while I know how much our little darlings went through, I don't know that I've honestly acknowledged what we've gone through - what I've gone through as a mom.
This morning when I awoke, my back hurt a little bit. Nothing more than normal, but enough I took some ibuprofen for it. However, the more I wrote about our girls, the more my back hurt. It got closer and closer to spasming, and the less the heating pad helped. I tend to carry stress in my back, and it started feeling like I was carrying quite a lot.
I know that hoarding tendencies (as well as eating at times of stress, becoming an alcoholic, drug abuse, compulsive shopping, etc.) can be present in a person's personality and not be acted upon, but that often a traumatic situation can bring that tendency to the forefront and kick it into overdrive. Especially, if that person doesn't acknowledge the trauma or deal with it or grieve it. And I've always been like Scarlett O'Hara and put off dealing with things, because after all, "Tomorrow is another day!"
Well, I think tomorrow is quickly approaching for me. I've talked with my husband to see, if he was comfortable with me blogging about different things that have happened over the years. He is behind me one hundred percent and told me he thinks I should.
I'm thinking I might. I'm going to think it over and pray about it for a few weeks, before I make a final decision. But I really do think it might help me. There are times that I feel like I've pushed so many feelings down and tried to get it so far away from me that, if I'm bumped just right I'm going to explode.
So yeah. I'm thinking about it.
Compulsive hoarding is a mental disorder that is just beginning to be understood. As a hoarder, I have acquired things over the years with a specific purpose in mind at the time of the acquisition, used some of those items for their intended purposes, forgotten the goal for different objects, but now that I find that they have outlived their purpose in my life I am struggling to rid myself of those same things.
You can read the start of my journey here.