When Mom came down to help me with my surgery back on December 1, she planned on going home before Christmas. I jokingly told her that I'd be praying for snow, so she couldn't go home. Then, I promised her that I wouldn't tell her, "Yay! A Christmas Miracle!!" when the snow would keep her here.
Well, the snow didn't keep her here the first week or two. The infection I got post-op did, though. And since it wasn't the snow that kept here here, I teased her that it was a Christmas Miracle. We've had a lot of Christmas Miracles in the last several months...
There's been the infection. And the snow. And logistics, because sometimes there are just scheduling conflicts with the person who is supposed to meet us to take Mom the rest of the way home, because meeting someone almost 350 miles away takes coordinating schedules. There's The Hubster's back injury. And then there's Mom's generous and sacrificing love and her wanting to stay and help me get as much as possible done while she's here.
And so, we've experienced yet another Christmas Miracle on St. Patrick's Day.
Mom is staying one more week to help me finish up as much as possible before The In-laws get here the week after next. They're driving through after visiting The Hubster's brother's family down in Florida. They want to stop by and see the progress we've made and to visit us.
I'm stressing over it. Because although I know Mom and I have kicked butt getting things done since she's been here, and that Hubster and I kicked butt before that and got tons done, I know it's not going to be enough. Plus, this whole thing makes me feel like I'm back in high school and working really hard to study for a test I know I'm never going to pass, even though I always passed all my tests in high school with flying colors.
I feel, however unrealistic the feeling may be, that they're coming for an inspection. Like landlords. Like we owe it to them somehow to have our house in order. I mean, that's one of the major benefits of home ownership. You no longer have to answer to someone else about what color you paint the walls or how long the grass has gotten.
You answer to yourself.
And that's what this journey has been about all along. It's been about us owning up to and processing exactly why we are where we are in this situation. And somehow, up until now, I haven't been stressing over it. I've been working on things. Processing things one at a time, and dealing with the what, why and how of my hoarding. Because it's my hoarding. It's my problem. And I'm proud of the progress I've made. I've done an amazing job. I'm not finished yet, but I know I will get there.
I am taking back ownership of the situation. Of my feelings. I refuse to be stressed. To be judged and graded as though I'm completing an assignment in high school for a very harsh teacher. If it's something that happens, then it's on those who do the judging. It's not on me.
Mom and I will get as much done while she's here as possible. Not because there will be any sort of test. Not to prove anything to anybody else. We will accomplish as much as possible, because Mom is staying to help out of the goodness of her heart. And because not accomplishing anything, when that's why she is staying and giving us another Christmas Miracle, would be wasting that miracle.
And miracles should be appreciated and relished.
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.