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.

Sunday, November 11, 2018

So This Hoarding Thing.

It's complicated. 

There are few things that hold great meaning to me. Perhaps there is a larger number of things that hold meaning for me compared to other people, but very few that hold great meaning. I could honestly take or leave the rest. I'm finally to the point once again that I'm making some great choices about differentiating between those things that actually mean something to me and those that don't. 

Yesterday was downright balmy compared to today, so I worked in the garage for a few hours on my own. Atticus, (a young man who grew up down the street from us when our girls were all little), was going to come and help me out wasn't able to after all, but I refused to let the change in plans derail me. I worked in the garage on my own for almost 3 hours. 

I was able to get rid of a lot of things. Well, technically, some of the things are still in the garage, but I've found homes for them, so it's just a matter of getting out there again to get them loaded up once it gets warm again. On Thursday of this week, 4 new interior doors, 4 used sliding closet doors, and a large air compressor on a cart will all leave the garage for sure. Knowing where each of these things is going has already freed up mental space. It's nice.

I loaded up a garden wagon with pieces of an old pressboard cabinet for the trash. We'd torn apart the cabinet years ago and used the pieces as a floor in the attic but left it up there when cleaned the attic out last summer. The time has come that neither of us can physically make the trek up to the attic and back down safely, so we emptied it out, However, we hadn't removed the 'floor'. When we had the insulation in the attic blown in this summer, the workers took it all down. Since we're not going to be using the attic for storage anyway, off to the trash it goes, along with two extra large black trash bags that I filled to the top.

I know I've still got a long way to go, but I'm happy with the progress I've made up to this point. I was able to toss a couple of things in the trash instead of washing them to donate. I realized that the 50 cents the thrift store might get for each of the things would take me 15 minutes to get cleaned up and sterilized in order to donate just wasn't worth it. In fact, there was a good chance they'd just go in the trash once they were donated, anyway, so yeah, I chucked them. 

Yay me. 

I'm getting there. It's taking time, but I *am* getting there. 

One uncomfortable decision at a time.

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