Hoarding….

According to my Mom, everything is sentimental.  She keeps letters, books, five dollar knick nacks and clothing from the 70’s.  It doesn’t matter if someone gave her a two dollar candle back in 1985.  If it was a gift, it’s practically priceless.

“Ooh, look at that!”  She exclaimed on a recent visit.  She was talking about a cross necklace she found while rummaging through a pile of clothing.  She probably hadn’t given the gift a thought in three years.  “The minister gave me that.  I love it.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Mom, you’ve never even worn it and it was laying in a pile of junk.”  I tried to tell her.  “I’m totally calling that show ‘Hoarders'” I was only half joking.

“Oh, I know it.”  she’ll say agreeing with me.  “I’ve got to get in here and clean things out.”

Only nothing ever changes.

My Dad, when he was alive, was just as bad as my Mom hoarding tools and antique store “gems.”  I tried to talk to him about it once but didn’t really get anywhere.

“We keep things because we’re from a different era.  When we were young things were harder to come by. We knew the value of a dollar”  he rationalized.

His argument was ridiculous.

First of all, my Dad and Mom both were born in the 50’s.   Not exactly the great depression.

And even if they had been teenagers right smack in the middle of the dust bowl, I dare say most people in the 30’s didn’t hoard.  They used stuff until it broke, then they fixed it.

As for my parents, they would not only buy a new mixer when theirs broke, they would never throw out the old one.  Then three years later they’d come across two others.   “In storage.”

Needless to say, coming from a family like mine, I’m scared.  As an empty nester, will I become a hoarder like them?  I think I read it’s in the DNA, so I’m pretty scared.

On my Mom’s side, I see it.

Her Dad had the heart of an artist.  He wrote for a local newspaper and played the piano.  He was a really interesting man, but marched to his own beat.    He loved yard sales and according to my grandmother often came home with random stuff to pile in his closet.

Fortunately he had my grandma to keep him in check.   She managed the household and could “misplace” things, and “clean” while he was at work.

As for my Dad, his parents were neat freaks, so that makes no sense.  Maybe his issue comes from having to be too neat as a child?  I have no idea.

All I know is that I throw things out all the time to overcompensate.  I’m afraid my son won’t want to come see me when I’m old because of the clutter in my house, so I get rid of stuff I actually need because I’m afraid.

It’s bad.  I cringe when receiving  presents that aren’t edible or disposable, and almost hate when my son brings home artwork because I don’t want to have to throw it away.  I’m afraid of my emotional reaction.  I don’t want to be like my parents with mountains of stuff getting in the way of their relationships.

Hopefully I won’t ever be as bad as my parents were.

I hope I can be different.