This one’s slightly different, as I’m envisioning it as both a typical “ask the” / “point and mock” thread, as well as a support-during-the-process/journalish sort of thing. Basically, consider this a text-based, live version of “Hoarders.”
This very much is going to be a process. Because what leads me to add the “hopefully soon to be former” part to the thread title is that after living in varying degrees of squalor (right now 3rd degree–never gotten to 4th degree, thank heavens) for ten+ years, I’ve finally gotten the courage to seek outside help from professional cleaners who specifically deal with such [del]nutjobs[/del] “disposaphobic” clients.
On the outside, no one knows my state of chaos. As an author/book doctor, I’m good at what I do; as sloppy as I am with garbage, I’m meticulous about words. But my apartment… oy. It’s at the point where I can’t bear looking in any direction here in this decent-sized studio for a Manhattanite, except perhaps wherever my cats are since at least they make me smile.
(I have three cats, and don’t think I’m an animal hoarder, though I guess some would beg to differ at the thought of three cats in a studio apartment, but they’re all well fed and cared for, if sometimes the litter boxes get full-to-overflowing for one or two days longer than they should.)
Anyway, after coming into a decent little sum of money thanks to my ex-client (whole 'nother thread/story), I decided to bite the bullet and accept the fact that I’m not able to do this by myself.
So for the next week (Monday to Friday, 10 - 5) a cleaner will be coming to help me sift through the mess and clean up this… well, what I oh-so-affectionately call “shithole of an apartment.” This company has worked with social workers and women’s centers and so on, people who come to them for help because a client is in bad straits, possibly due to a landlord seeking eviction unless the client cleans up his or her mess. I’m not at that stage, thank goodness, but there have been a few incidents that came close when unexpected events (a fire in the apartment below me, a leak in the shower above me) required my super to enter the apartment and I was forced to let people in… something I usually avoid at all costs due to shame.
Anyway, despite (as well as because of) this shame, I’ve hired this heavy duty cleaning service, as I said. Of course now I’m already feeling panicky and regretful, with an instinctive desire to cancel the appointment, but I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to live like this anymore, and the fact that I somehow found the courage – probably due to a recent death of a friend that made me take stock of my life – is something I don’t want to sabotage, as tempting as it is. I have one day left to cancel. I’ve put down a $300 deposit, so I’ll lose that, but there’s that awful self-destructive side of me that’s whispering, “cancel, cancel, don’t you dare let anyone in here!” That’s the voice I’m fighting.
This is going to be a hard week for me. Of course I know I’ll be better for it afterwards, but I have to acknowledge this fact: it will be hard and embarrassing, and heaven knows what other emotions will get churned up as well. Frankly I could’ve combined this thread with a few other “Ask the…” possibilities, all of which are related to and somewhat explain where I am right now. “Ask the lifelong, treatment-resistant depressed person,” “Ask the person with panic disorder,” “Ask the daughter of a depressed person,” etc. But I don’t want to hoard (heh) all the fun topics. This is the one I’m dealing with now.
Well. There you go. If anyone wants to ask questions related to any of this – as I said, it’s sort of a real-live episode of “Hoarders” by proxy – go for it. Or if you’ve any experience with similar “heavy duty cleaning services” (seriously, this company also does crime-scene clean-up!), I’d love to hear from you. I hope there won’t be too much shaming and pointing and laughing at the freak going on, but I’ve invited it and probably deserve it, so, well, y’all go ahead too. Of course, support will also be gratefully accepted.
(BTW I did put Hoarder/Clutterer in the title, but I think I’m more on the clutterer side of the spectrum. Though I suppose hoardering garbage is a thing too. Either way, doesn’t matter. It’s all just another word for “yuck.”)
Have you always been inclined to live in clutter, including when you were a child, or is it adult-onset clutter? If you stay overnight in a hotel or at a friend’s place, do you find yourself awareness of clutter changes?
Do you think if you had a specific, written out schedule for doing chores, it would give you the self-discipline to control the clutter? For example: “Daily 7AM - scoop cat box. Daily 8PM - wash and put away all dishes, wipe down counters and sink. Tuesday morning - dust. Wednesday evening - vacuum.”
I do wish you good luck. I’m not exactly the model Happy Homemaker, but I could make the common areas of the house very clean and orderly with a couple of hours of work. I admit the spare bedrooms are another story, but since no one ever uses them, they’ve become like huge walk-in closets. When we expect guests, they take a bit more effort to tidy up and organize, and frankly, it’s just laziness on my part that keeps them in disarray, and cheapness that keeps me from having someone come in and do something about it for me.
What, specifically, makes you panicky about having the professional cleaners in? Is it solely about the shame of outsiders seeing your mess? (Rest assured, however bad it is, they’ve dealt with worse! And I mean worse clutter/hoarding, not the crime scene clean-up.) Is it just the idea of parting with your stuff? Is it the thought that something important might get thrown out?
No pointing and laughing here! Good for you for making such a hard first step, and I’m wishing you strength in the days ahead. You can do it.
Let me congratulate you for recognizing the problem and taking the first steps to deal with it. That in and of itself is a worthy achievement.
Yes, yes it will be hard. So let me give you a few {{{hugs}}} right now.
I’ve had some struggle with this problem myself, including this thread. I think people who don’t have these issues don’t really understand just how hard it can be - not the actual physical cleaning but the emotional/headspace issues that come with it. If we out here in Doperland can do anything to help you - including just listening when you need to talk about it - let us know.
Excuse me? Sorry - you are NOT allowed to beat yourself up or paint a target on yourself. Anyone mocking you for recognizing and solving this problem should be escorted to the Pit and give a verbal brow-beating. No, you DO NOT deserve “shaming and pointing and laughing” and anyone who tells you that, or worse yet, does that, is a despicable excuse of a human being.
What a great new beginning! You’ve already done the hardest part in deciding to take action. Thanks for letting us know today so we can be with you during this week. Maybe as the cleaning progresses you can share the emotional steps it takes and we can all “take away” something from it.
Congratulations on taking this first step! It must have been very hard to get here, and even harder to keep the appointment. Almost there, though!
I don’t have a specific question, though I would love to see before and after pictures. That might be way too personal for you though, so I understand if that’s something you don’t want to do.
When you look ahead to your life 6 months from now or at Thanksgiving, can you see in detail how different it will be? Once your home is open to everyone in your life in a way that brings you only happiness and much less stress, do you see how much fuller your life will be?
This is what I have tried to share (and failed) my clutter-hoarding mother; parts of her social and family life are as inaccessible as her home now and w/o one improving drastically the others **will **wither away permanently.
Good on you! No pointing or laughing here, on the contrary. The ancient proverb says: “know thyself”. it doesn’t say, as many people seem to think, “beat thyself up and try again and again what hasn’t helped for the last ten years, either”.
Would I be out of line if I asked for you to post some pictures? Making before, during and after pictures might be a great source of pride for you afterwards. Posting them for us would make your thread extra relatable.
One more thing: clutter and squalor are as unhealthy for feline apartment dwellers as it is for human ones. You are not doing this just for yourself.
Congrats! Unless you’ve got dead cats, used diapers, and 20 year old vienna sausage cans buried in there somewhere I doubt the people that come to help you are going to bat an eye. Hell, they will probably relieved as hell and you’ll be their favorite recent client.
I had a quick thought. Maybe you should have people over to your place on a regular basis. Since you actually have some shame about appearances it you would force you do a few hours of tidying up on a regular basis before every event. And for clutterer/low level hoarders I think just a few hours here go a long way towards keeping things under control. Its just that you gotta DO it.
Ahhh…remembered a story probably read here on the dope. Now, this would be embarrasing. Some lady had a regular boyfriend. Been together awhile. Radiator? gives out so landlord needs to come in to fix it. Landlord pulls out the bed. Seems the whole time the boyfriend has been tossing used condoms back there. So, if they didn’t die of embarrassement I doubt you will either
Do you consider a hoarder or simply a messy person? Do your possessions carry special meaning for you? Or are you so focused on your writing that other things–like cleaning–simply don’t register as important?
Oh wow, thank you so much for the encouragement and support along with the questions, guys. It was nerve-wracking just “coming out” in public with this thread, but I thought it might help to put things out in the open so I kind of get used to it prior to tomorrow.
Thanks, jsgoddess. I hope so too. I’m not one of those “shopper” hoarders, fortunately, so I think it’ll be much easier to maintain once I’ve gotten rid of the old junk I’ve kept for such a long time.
Great questions. I’d say I’ve always been inclined to that… I know my room was always messy as a kid, though I think it was relatively normal mess (toys on the floor, clothes not put away, toothpaste in the sink, etc.). Not garbage. Life is so much more controlled when we’re children – at least, back when I was growing up in the '70s and early '80s, parents did most of the shopping. However, I think I inherited a lot of my… laissez-faire attitude toward cleanliness, shall we say, from my mom. Who was not a good housekeeper, mostly due to her depression. I also inherited her depression, so this is probably not surprising.
Oh I am very aware and in awe of lack of clutter. When I go to my sister’s place, or if I stay in a hotel, it’s suddenly so calming and peaceful. My sister’s home is sometimes “messy” (or what she calls messy, I should say) but it’s again, typical sort of mess of an active family with a teenager… it’s the regular chaos of life being lived at a fast pace where maybe fresh laundry sits in the basket for a little while, or music scores are stewn on the piano; it’s far different from the sort of Miss Haversham, frozen-in-time, pseudo-cryptlike mess I’ve got.
Ooh interesting. I tend to chafe against assignments, but perhaps that kind of regimen would be of use to me. I remember a few years ago, after the leak I mentioned in my OP and my super came in and noticed how yucky the bathroom was and the fact that literally every fixture required fixing (but I hadn’t had the courage to ask him in to get to it), he and a couple of the other maintenance workers came in and simultaneously fixed the stuffed-up tub, the leaky “u-bend” under the sink (under which I’d had to place a pail), fixed the faucet so it poured strongly instead of just a dribble, and repaired the broken ballcock in my toilet, plus gave me new tiles and painted the place. Anyway, after I had this basically brand-new bathroom, I made it a big point that after every use of the sink I’d wipe it down with a sponge so there was no sticky soap remnants, etc. Of course that eventually faded away.
But it could very well be that having a regular schedule would be of very much use to me. It’s sometimes easy to lose track of time since I work from home and usually that includes weekends too (which makes being around this mess practically 24/7 all the more soul-destroying), but having a literal schedule could be helpful in many respects. Great idea, thank you!
I hear you. I might, if I can afford it, have someone to come in once a month after this place is settled, even though since it’s a studio I should be able to take care of it myself, but just the regularity would be delightful. Plus it’ll give me an incentive to keep things under control so I don’t freak out once a month. As it is I’m going to be cleaning my apartment a bit today before the cleaner comes.
Thank you, freckafree. I’m nervous about everything you mentioned except the last one. I know the cleaner will be making certain to ask me about most of the things he’ll be throwing out, and the things that are truly important to me are relatively obvious things, like photos or (please don’t laugh) old stuffed animals or memorabilia from childhood, or things like tax records/bills and so on.
It’s especially the shame, that’s issue number one. Just as you say, they do claim that they’ve seen every kind of mess. In fact the guy I spoke with on the phone was so kind and reassuring me on just that point, that they’ve seen everything, and indeed that’s on their website as well. Heck might as well give 'em a plug: Home Clean Home.
Then, very close at second place, is the fear of throwing things out. I know I’ve mentioned this before in threads on hoarding, but… I actually (ugh this is embarrassing) feel sorry for things that are unwanted, what you hu-mans call “garbage.” I can anthropromorphize just about anything, and usually do. So there’ll be a tug of guilt for anything I’ve had for a while that ends up consigned to the garbage. An unworking lamp (just like that infamous Ikea commercial), a broken mug, old kitchen utensils that used to be in my childhood home and I can remember my late mom using, you name it.
Here’s another admission I can’t believe I’m admitting to: when I do throw out bags of garbage, I… I actually apologize to it before I let it go down the chute. There’s a very real sense of “there but for the grace of God go I” when I throw things out. I guess I feel that it’s not fair that I have power over something’s “life or death,” even if that thing is inanimate. Because I’ve felt just as powerless too, just as disposable and easy to abandon.
Oy. That’s heavy stuff to put out in public. BTW, yes, I’m seeing a shrink, before anyone asks.
Thank you, Broomstick. Yes, I remember that thread, and I definitely appreciate your empathy from one who’s been there. And thanks for the hugs too.
Well, I certainly wouldn’t laugh at someone else in this situation, and I’m sure you wouldn’t either, but I’ve read those Hoarders threads in Cafe Society or on Television Without Pity and a little piece of me dies whenever the inevitable insults get tossed at the show’s subjects. I know, speaking purely objectively, that it is ridiculous for a 45-year-old woman (moi) to feel sorry for an old stuffed animal or to apologize to garbage or let things get so old in my fridge I literally have no room to place new food in there (and wouldn’t want to), and not be able to kill bugs (carpet beetles, moths, and spiders – no cockroaches, thank God).
That’s exactly what I’m hoping for! Thanks so much, Becky.
Thanks, EmAnJ. (Oh! I just got your screenname, heh. Clever. :)) I’ve been thinking of how important it’ll be to take before, during and after pictures. I’d probably only feel comfortable posting them after the week is through… does that make sense? Because once things are in better shape, I’ll have more objectivity and the knowledge that I’m no longer here, in this awful place. Does that make sense? But I will definitely post pics after the fact, if that’s okay.
I definitely try to envision that, Nawth Chucka. I swear, I would be thrilled to imagine this place consisting of nothing but a bed, a desk for my computer, clean white walls, and a spotless floor. Obviously I know it won’t really look like that, I have books and things that won’t be tossed, but boy, the “zen” of such an empty room sure pleases me to envision.
Part of my psychological issues involves my inability to “see” the future, if you know what I mean-- not that I want to be a psychic but that I’ve always had difficulty envisioning myself in a different “place,” and that difficulty makes me think that it therefore won’t happen. I can’t even envision past this week – hell, past this Monday. The unknown future frightens me and thus I try to pretend it doesn’t exist.
This dates back to childhood. I remember putting off applying to colleges as a kid because I simply could not fathom what it’d be like to be away from home and away from my mom, and so I was certain I therefore wouldn’t be going to college. (I think my mom was rather ambivalent about my leaving too, since we were so similar and I was her youngest kid, so she wasn’t exactly the sort to push me out of the nest.)
I think this is learned behavior from her. She was someone who thought of the future (hell, the world in general) as a dangerous, unpredictable place, and I understand why she saw it that way – her son died in an accident and she was never able to forgive herself for that, and so only saw unhappiness looming ahead of her as part of her just desserts for “letting” the accident happen – and somehow though I lack her specific experiences, I share that part of her. We never planned ahead for anything in my house, everything was always thrown together at the last minute. Packing, cleaning for holidays, the college application thing, homework, etc.
We didn’t know the name of this back then, but looking back I can see that we were totally codependents. She tried to protect me from the world so I’d be safe but unconsciously made me feel more threatened by it.
ANYway (as you see I clutter with words, too!), I really am trying to envision what this place will be like, and being able finally to get my place painted after twenty years (my lease states that I get a free paint job after ten years), and ask for repairs I’ve been putting off (I’ve had a non-working oven for just about the entire time I’ve lived here), and actually having my wonderful niece come to visit – she’s never been here since she was a baby, and she’s 16 now! – not to mention friends I’ve cocooned myself away from.
And this may sound stupid but just letting my cats having more room to scamper around will be nice. Now whenever one of my cats (Therblig, the only boy) goes into one of his “hey I’m going to run relay races back and forth in the apartment every night at 8PM” moods, he has to dart around the piles of junk, and usually wreaks havoc by knocking stuff over because, bless his heart, he’s not the most graceful of animals.
What I want most to envision is being outside of the apartment, you know, going anywhere even just to my shrink appointment, and not dreading coming back home. Finding it a comfortable, warm, cozy space where I’m at peace, not a self-imposed jail that feels like a physical manifestation of my crazy brain. And also having it be a place that lets my mind feel restful, able to create as an author/editor and web designer. It would be bliss to feel like that.
I totally understand her mindset, and how obviously this distresses and frustrates you. The hoarding/clutter has become a fortress that locks me inside and keeps others out. Does your mom have any fear or phobia issues aside from the disposophobia?
Thanks again to everyone for your support so far. It’s tremendously appreciated.
Choie, my mom is undiagnosed but I see her having been depressed most of my life. She married an unrepentant alcoholic who didn’t want kids and had 2 ‘oops’ Pill babies who I expect she thought he’d embrace once they were here; he did not. When I visit them in the large home to which they retired I’m aghast at the mean things he says to her (far worse than insults he made when I was young) and if she lets it affect her she doesn’t say so. They live separate lives in one house, except when she makes meals for him and does his laundry. I think she surrounds herself w/ things that make her feel good thinking it will internalize and she can feel good from the inside out. In doing so she’s created walls and shut off rooms of clutter which affords my dad another avenue of cruel ‘jokes’ at her expense.
Visitors have left days early and in the middle of the night w/o notice, or they stay at a hotel in town or park an RV a mile or so away and only visit outside. Repeat visitors have learned to ‘pass through’, myself included, in order to avoid staying for long amid the clutter and pain.
Compounding this is that my mom was raised in abject poverty in S.E Kentucky. As the 9th of 10 kids whose sisters were over a decade older than her she wore her brother’s hand-me-downs until she made a dress for herself in Home Ec. Having something for herself when she can became an opportunity she never passes up now.
Good heavens, three more replies during the time it took me to compose that last magnum opus! I’ll attack 'em now.
I definitely understand how you wanna see pictures! It’s only natural. I think I’ll feel a bit more comfortable doing that as the week goes on, so there’s at least a little progress. I will take “before” shots, but won’t post them until I can get at least one “during” shot up there too. It’s sort of like a weight loss thing. It’s always harder to start with a “before” shot if you’re currently at your highest weight; once you’ve lost a little weight, posting that “before” shot isn’t quite as daunting.
And you’re definitely right about my cats. It’s not good to have old catfood cans lying around, because they seem drawn to the “leftovers” like they’re aged wine or cheese.
By now either they (and I) have the world’s strongest immune system after living with so much dust/mold/yuck for years, or we’re slowly being poisoned from being around all this virtual toxic waste.
Heh. I hope so, and none of those are part of my, um, collection. As I mentioned some of the cat food cans are a few weeks old, to my shame, but the only once-alive-now-dead creatures are probably silverfish or other creepy crawlies. Actually I’m a little annoyed that the spiders aren’t doing a better job. They should’ve gotten rid of the other bugs by now, what’s they’re problem? Freakin’ slackers.
OMG, yowsa. Yeah, that’s… that’s pretty embarrassing. Anyway yes, you’re very right that inviting people here would make me more inclined to keep it in better shape. I’m always desperate to hide everything (shove it under beds, put it in the shower/bath, in the kitchen, etc.) the one time a year my apartment’s janitorial staff come by to change the filters of my air conditioner. If this were a more regular occurance–having people inside–I would certainly be more disciplined to keep things in a clean state.
For example I’d love to take guitar lessons, and I know this one teacher who comes to your home and works with you there.That would be so wonderful but wow, not gonna happen. Hopefully when the week’s done, things will open up for me. My apartment will open up for me, and let me invite people into it… and into my life in general.
Hey monstro. No, I think this is beyond messy… My middle sister (I’m the youngest of three) is what I’d call “messy.” Clothes tossed about, make-up not put away, sometimes doesn’t clean her dishes for a few days, etc. I think while you were writing this I was explaining a bit of how I feel toward garbage, but obviously you couldn’t have seen that. In short, my possessions do carry meaning in a few different ways.
The genuinely sentimental possessions that I think most people would find sentimental. Old stuffed animals (I don’t really have that many, maybe a dozen… okay that actually sounds like a lot to most people, but I must’ve had a hundred or so when I was a kid, so having just 12 or so is pretty good for me), photos, some knick-knacks that belonged to my late mom & pop (e.g. his “jewelry” box – well, not jewelry, but cufflinks, watches, that sorta thing, and the sign to my mom’s bookstore. Yes, the actual sign, which has double-sentimental value because my father’s the one who made it), some souvenirs from a family trip to England when I was a kid such as a tiny china pitcher/tea set from “The Old Curiosity Shop,” and books.
The crap that’s probably sentimental only to me. The ceramic paw print I took from my late cat – she’s the one whose name I use on the SDMB, btw. (The animal hospital where I took her after she died gave me this clay so I could create a cast of her paw print. Which was very touching and kind of them.) Stuffed animals I’ve found on the street. (This is weird, but I swear these things follow me around – I’ve found four little stuffed animals hanging around in trees or on top of mail boxes. Is this common? It’s like they’re placed there just to torment me. I remember walking to my shrink appointment (rather amusingly) and passing by a little stuffed cat on top of one of those “Press here to change the light” boxes at crosswalks. It took all my will power not to pick it up and “save” it then and there, but walking the rest of the way to my appointment, I was eating myself up inside at the thought of that abandoned little thing. I swore to myself that if it was still there on my way back, I would pick it up. Sure enough, it was, and I did, and I’m looking at it right now.)
Stuff I feel sorry for. I kind of think of things as… well, not really “alive,” or sentient, or whatever – I’ll cop to a lot of issues but I’m not that crazy to think my broken chair is a living creature. I don’t talk to it or anything like that. My psychological smorgasbord does not include delusions. However, as I mentioned earlier, if it’s possible to anthropomorphize something, I will. Rather stupidly and self-destructively, I like to name things. I named my reclining chair “Oliver” (it’s olive-colored) and my mouse"George" (as in “I’m gonna love it and keep it and call it George” from the Bugs Bunny cartoon). My computer du jour is always “Computy.” (Okay, that’s not a very creative name, so sue me.) Anyway, of course now that “Oliver” is broken I’m going to feel ridiculously guilty throwing [del]him[/del] it out, but that’s what will need to happen at the end of the week.
In short (too late!), anything I’ve lived with long enough to “get used to it,” so to speak, becomes part of me and I feel like it’s presumptuous of me to feel more important than either bugs or garbage. Yeah, low self-esteem is a problem for me, why do you ask?
I mentioned this before but do you guys remember that old IKEA commercial where they showed a broken lamp set out in the garbage, and this Swiss-accented guy explains that it’s broken and no one wants it, and finally at the end of the commercial he says something like, “And now you’re feeling sorry for the lamp? Get over it, it’s a lamp.” That’s totally me.
Re: the writing… oh, how I wish I could say I was just so into my art that I can’t be bothered with worldly things and am so tightly focused that cleaning gets away from me… That’s waaaaay too kind. No, in fact it’s the opposite. I think the chaos in my apartment has had a deleterious effect on my own writing. It’s hard to concentrate as fully when, if I shift my gaze slightly from the monitor, I can see a pile of old cardboard boxes or a bunch of empty soda/water bottles looming beyond. I can do writing that I must do (freelance work hired by others) but it’s much harder to focus on my novels, which is definitely a problem since they too are part of my bread and butter.
So I’d love to play the artiste card, but… no. I appreciate the try though.
Edited on preview to Nawth Chucka: wow. I feel such sympathy for both you and your mom. I think a lot of people who grew up in poverty, who now have the opportunity to have things of their own, may have similar issues. It’s a proprietary feeling that one never had the chance to exhibit in one’s childhood. Is she a collector sort of hoarder – that is, are there certain types of things that she tends to accumulate, or is it just all kinds of stuff?
(Can’t believe people would leave in the middle of the night; that’s just rude, unless actual rats or bugs were crawling on them, or they found themselves unable to breathe due to dust and whatnot!)
Do you own or rent your apartment? Did the super not say anything to the manager when he saw? I would have been freaking out- or was it not that bad at the time?
Also just want to throw some encouragement your way. The next few days may be embarrassing and difficult, but you know that it will be worth it in the end. Don’t cancel. You’re going to feel so much better when it’s over.
choie, more congratulations to you for taking this step. I applaud you for writing about it, too – it lets a little more healing light into this dark source of pain for you. Besides, it can hep and inspire other people with the same or similar problems. Heck, as soon as I read the thread title I got up and threw out and/or recycled 20 pieces of paper.
One thing that helps me is that I have declared two places in my apartment to be clutter-free zones. No matter if things get a little sloppy elsewhere, those two spots will always be clean and tidy. They are little oases, and having them helps me keep the rest of the place tidier.
Every time I donate clothes and knick-kancks to Salvation Army, or nicer clothes to a women’s shelter, or take boxes of books and cds to the Friends of the Library sale, I feel a little lighter and freer. I wish you that wonderful feeling of freedom.
I have treatment-resistant depression too, and it took me a while to learn to keep my house in order once I moved out on my own. My mom kept our house fine while I was growing up but I never had to do chores regularly, so I never learned how to do it right, and then after I moved out, it was overwhelming to me. I still tend to get overwhelmed easily (and my apartment is never even very messy), but what I’ve found helps when I’m having a really hard time getting started or knowing where to start, is to just decide that I’m going to do one single chore, no matter how small it is. Unload the dishwasher, clean the toilet, sort through one pile of papers/mail…anything. And I’ll let myself stop after that one thing. But usually when I do this, I end up doing a few more things too. Sometimes I really do quit after the one thing, and I don’t feel bad about it.
A few other tips that may or may not help you: get cleaning supplies that let you do small maintenance cleaning easily, if you don’t already have them. For example get a dustbuster. I hate hardcore vacuuming but I use the dustbuster for a couple minutes almost every day. And you can use Lysol wipes to wipe down kitchen and bathroom stuff. Deep cleaning is still necessary sometimes but it’s easier to make yourself do that when the situation doesn’t look so hopeless, plus even if you don’t do it, the light stuff is a lot better than nothing.
And about being embarrassed about the cleaners, try not to imagine what they must be thinking of you, instead think about how YOU would feel about someone else who you know is having a hard time handling something, but is working to change it. They’re probably just as understanding of people as you are, plus this is just routine for them. That’s what I have to tell myself whenever I seek any help for depression/anxiety-related issues, because I’m always embarrassed too.
I’d like to see before and after pictures too, if you want to share them Good luck!
I’m so glad you can look ahead and envision your space w/ a guitar teacher in it; that’s a specific, achievable goal that resonates.
Mom collects pretty things or Indian-themed things but also quilts and reads; along w/ the stacks of fabric dedicated to quilting there are paper bags from the thrift store (stapled shut) marked ‘Women’s Shirts, $1’ that Mom says, “If there’s even 1 good quit piece in there it’s worth a dollar!” She seems to have maybe 3-4 dozen of those bags she’s picked up over the years and they line the formal dining room and living room. Likewise w/ boxes and bags of books. The navigable rooms of the house are my dad’s bedroom, his office, his workroom and the 1/2 bath. They are in a warm enough part of NC they can rely on their fireplace for heat and I expect a great conflagration will consume them or their very flammable things some day.
She does not throw out unopened, expired food. In her head the clock doesn’t start running until they’ve been opened. The pantries (kitchen, garage, basement) have odors.
The guests who fled were almost certainly overwhelmed by the dust, grunge, cat odors, spiders, silverfish, centipedes and general unclean appearance of the house. The guest bath has paths. The kitchen has a path. The cats are allowed to sit where they like. It’s a large cluttered house and on every visit I’ve stumbled across dessicated cat mess of some variety. Two of my dad’s friends from his old job stopped by to stay a few days on the way down to FL and left 12 hours after they arrived, before dawn. They tried to tactfully explain why they fled but my dad understood and got pissed enough to not speak to my mom for weeks over it. He’s had NO repeat inside visitors.
My mom donates nothing; she thinks it’s wasteful, you should just hold on to the thing you can’t use anymore until someone in your family needs it, rather than give it to stranger and risk never seeing it again (losing control over the item).
Hi Alice, and thank you very much! Back when the leak thing happened, I think that’s when the super spoke to the manager, and he came in to look at the bathroom and by fiat said that I should get new tiles and a paint job in the bathroom.
A few years ago… probably 2008 or 9?.. my downstairs neighbor had an oven fire that spread and put my apartment in some danger; the firemen were concerned that there might be some lurking flames behind the walls of my kitchen. So they and the super came in, and my apartment was… well, it was even worse than it is now, which is saying something. Turns out the fire wasn’t a problem, great and all, but the super saw my (former) sofa, which was totally ripped apart from my cats’ claws with the soft foam stuffing practically exploding out of it.
He apparently spoke to the building’s owner, who (either fortunately or unfortunately, depending on my POV) happens to be related, sort of, to my family. (He’s the nephew of my late father’s girlfriend – that connection is how I got the apartment, by the way.) Anyway, the owner called my oldest sister and I guess told her of the conditions under which I was living, and said they were a hazard, and I would need to leave if things weren’t in control, yadda yadda. That was freaking embarrassing. Also, frankly, they want me out of this apartment; due to the old connection, I’m paying a pretty low price for this apartment, and until I leave they can’t hike up the rent to where it should be for an NYC doorman building in this area.
(Rather coincidentally, my downstairs neighbor was evicted for this very reason. Not the rent reason, but because her place was considered a hazard. I still think this is bullshit; what happened was after the fire, the firemen opened her windows wide, and this being an eighth floor apartment, the wind proceeded to blow everything around and make a horrific mess, not to mention all the fire damage. The landlord claimed it had been like this before, but I know for a fact that the photographs they used as evidence of her hazardous apartment conditions were taken after the fire, where naturalyl everything was chaotic. Anyway. She’s gone now.)
Sorry for the digression. Anyway, after that, I did clean things up to a relatively reasonable degree, at least if you didn’t look in my closets. The sofa was thrown out (very hard for me; I kept imagining it out on the curb and feeling abandoned/lonely*) and other things were thrown away as well.
This level of over-empathizing with inanimate objects or bugs makes life very hard for me. It’s exhausting and I know it’s irrational, and likely due to my incredibly low self-worth. I’m working on that. Hopefully this week will sort of be an immersion into my deep empathy issues and maybe help rid me of them, at least to get some proper perspective on what things should be valued and what should not.
Awesome! Thank you, I know people feel like that after episodes of “Hoarders” too. It’s hard coming out of the (very messy) closet like this, but yeah, I think it’s important to, as you say, let some light in. Just like allowing this cleaner guy enter the apartment.
Thank you, Tapiotar. Oh yes, freedom… that’s precisely what I’m seeking. This is a heavy burden for me, especially since (as I mentioned) I work from home, so I rarely get any relief from it. Except for going out to my shrink and various ER visits due to panic attacks, I’m rarely apart from my squalor. Maybe that’s why I feel such kinship with it. (Or vice versa. It’s a chicken-or-egg thing. Am I having anxiety/agoraphobia issues because I’m living so horribly, or am I living horribly because of my issues? Probably a little of both. It’s definitely a vicious circle thing, which is why I’m hoping breaking that cycle will maybe be cathartic in other areas as well.)
