Working, spending time with the family, and working on me.

With the Mr. working and the kid getting ready for her state tests at school, life has been a bit crazy.

The working on me bit is exactly what it sounds like. I’ve been taking a bit of time to work on myself. The stress of life got to me. Honestly. I had to take a break from people, from some friends even. I made a few new friends. I took a good look at my diet and realized that if I didn’t change something, that the foods I was eating + stress were going to equal my death.

So, I thought about what killed my mom. I didn’t want to die that way. She didn’t die of hoarding, but died in that 1/2 hoarded home.

I’m happy to say that the changes are working.

I’m staring to add back in the stresses from before and just take them one day at a time. I’m starting to set limits. I refuse to let people take advantage of me anymore.

It feels great. 

I have a lot to talk about too, so I need to start my blogging again.

And guess what today is? It’s CLEANING DAY!! I’m going to clean my office/storage room. Get the kid to clean her room too!

Last night, I put up a new shower curtain to match the new rug (the kid rug got ate up by the vacuum) so it’s bye bye princess bathroom, and hello to a new purple bathroom (keeping the fairy toilet seat though since it matches)  - I tried to be a FUN mom when she was smaller-  :)

I am going to come back with a list of stuff I’ve done. Most of my house is clean, but I’m going to try to find stuff to donate, etc. Maybe clean up a few dust bunnies.

And no… I do NOT like to clean, but I DO love a clean house.

Oh, and I plan on cleaning out my car. The kids have icktified it. Last weekend was the kid’s b-day party and those kids did a number on my car. PUKE!! Gum and candy gone wild. I should charge to haul kids around.

I don’t have many txts saved, I’m pretty good about cleaning them up, but these ones.. we’ll I’m not sure I’m ready to delete them.

They are about my mom, when she was dying.

I have no idea why, but I’m not ready to remove them.

In one I say I talked to her and had a decent coverstation, in another, I say she’s like the “old” mom before the anti-depressants.

Maybe I want the reminder that for a small bit of time, my mom wasn’t mean. Maybe I want the reminder of what will happen if I don’t take care of myself.

I have the txt I sent to my cousin telling him my mom was dead. I was driving at the time, on the way to her house.

I’m sure there is something a doc would tell me.. why I feel the need to hang on to a few txts.

I’m sure I’ll delete them in time. I just wanted to share. Maybe someone out there has felt the same way. I guess that’s the reason I have this blog, to show all the weirdness that goes on inside my head, so someone else out there as weird as me won’t feel so alone.

I am. ALL THE TIME!! Wholly cow… if only she knew. The difference between me and her is… I hide it. Well. Behind smiles and sarcastic remarks. Behind laughing and hiding in the corner trying to remain unseen.

See, I grew up hiding the fact that I lived in filth. I can hide when my feelings get hurt (most of the time) and I can hide that I secretly crave knowing that I am good enough. I do hide when people make me feel inferior.

I get intimated by the cleaning girl at work. She cleans toilets and my job is much more glamours than hers is by far. I am not bragging… I am just stating the fact if she knew she could intimated me… oh .. the power she’d have LOL.

I work with a TON of really pretty women. Some younger… some older. Most of them are very pretty and very dressy. Me.. eh. To a degree I can dress. But, most of the time, I feel like a child playing dress up. Intimated? Yup. 

I think in the back of my mind… if they only knew, they’d chew me up and spit me out. Ok.. I’m being a bit dramatic here, but hey, it’s my couch and I can be if I wanna be.. right? Ok, I’ll stop.

My point is, is that I do feel this way. Growing up how I did made me this way. I’m insecure. (to the point I make MYSELF SICK OF ME) My house isn’t a fancy house in a nice neighborhood. My dog is a mutt. My  hair cut cost me less than $15.

Even if I had all these nice things… I really think I’d feel the same way. I never got that foundation I needed to be 100% confident in who I am.

Please, parents that hoard… please understand what your doing to your children.

I am your child. 10 years.. 15 years… 20 years from now. I am your daughter. Maybe she’ll be better than I am, more forgiving, but your taking the chance that she’s going to be even more messed up than I am.

Is this a chance your willing to take?

Please, don’t let your daughter grow up to feel that she’ll never be good enough… to feel intimidated by everyone.

For more information: Individuals with OCD and/or hoarding: http://filer.case.edu/~axp335/ocd.htm

Relatives and significant others of those with OCD and/or hoarding: http://filer.case.edu/~axp335/famocd.htm

**Disclaimer** I was in no way compensated for posting this or am I affiliated in any way with the research or Case Western.

I see through my feeds daily news reports of cats and dogs, even goats, rescued from hoarders. Yet, we let the children stay in the homes, but feel we must free those kittens.

When did pets or animals come to mean more than children?

When I grew up in a filthy home, did people wonder if my dog was being hurt by the mess? Did they wonder about me?

Now, please do not get me wrong here… I LOVE animals. I have a dog, love him lots, but he will NEVER EVER EVER take priority over my child. Ever. End. of. story.

If I saw a child living in a rat infested filthy home where they couldn’t even cook a dinner and I saw a dog living there also, my first instinct would be to rescue the child, not the dog.

Maybe it’s just the reports of the animals that are hoarded that make the news, and the children are quietly left out of the story for their own safety or maybe they didn’t have children living there. I will admit that I don’t have the whole story.

But, it does bother me that we aren’t making it known enough that CHILDREN GROW UP IN HOARDED HOMES!! Children DO suffer.

I just wish I saw more “awareness” for the COH that suffers.

We need a COH awareness day, like cancer, it needs to be addressed. Hoarding is like a cancer, it feeds, it destroys, it takes lives. It alters those close to the problem. It leaves it’s mark. 

Well… how do I feel after watching 1.5 episodes tonight? (while doing laundry)

Overwhelmed.

That’s why I’m here. It’s 10:16pm my time and I need to get to bed so I can get up in the morning for work. But now that I’ve seen bugs crawling all over massive piles of trash, I want to clean. My “office” is a mess. The Mr. has been working a lot so I’ve been a bit snowed over by everything and it’s starting to show.

I just want to stay up and clean. But, I’m forcing myself to accept that I just can’t.

I can’t always be the clean freak I want to be. I have to say it is “ok“. I have to realize my messy room doesn’t make me a hoarder. It doesn’t make me nasty. I am not nasty.

This is why I can’t watch hoarding shows a lot. I’d end up staying home for work to clean…. not that I’ve ever done that or anything <<hides face behind hands>>

I won’t stay up to clean, but I must shower.. I swear I feel bugs.

Recently I met someone that paints. Anyway, it make me remember the artist in my mom. She had a talent. She could have had purpose. But, she really didn’t do anything with it. Once she went for classes and I remember her designing a pop logo and it was chosen as a top one, but didn’t make the final cut. I thought it was so cool.

When I was little, she painted my bedroom with Pooh bear and his pals. Until I freaked out at night. I think I thought they were dancing. Which I do remember something like that… anyway they painted over it.

See, now there are good memories in my head! Now if I can just remember them all!

She also painted ceramics. Once she made me this amazing music box. It was large and had a forest with a unicorn in the middle. It moved as it played music. I was so impressed. She also made me a dragon and then taught me how to do the same. I actually did a pretty fantastic job.

She taught others how to paint for awhile. I was impressed and for a bit I was proud of her.

But, where did it all go? I asked myself that the other day. Why did it have to end as it did? What did she miss out on by not following her passion? Why did she stop trying to be the best she could be despite the hoarding?

This is the stuff that makes me heart hurt so much now that she’s gone. This is so painful for me to think about. I miss that mom to tell you the honest truth. No lies. I miss that creative woman who could do amazing things like paint and draw.

You know what happened to all those things she created? They ended up lost in the hoard. I think my dad took care of the molds from the ceramics… but all I can think of is the lost creations in her mind. Was it cluttered too?

I know I get what creativity I have left in me from her. I know I’m losing it due to the crazy logic driven job I have, but I do give her credit for giving me what I do have.

My daughter is also gifted in that way.

I’m scared though, that neither of us will have the follow thru needed to continue on in our journeys. I’ll stop writing, creating stories, doing odd projects, and she will stop writing and her music/songs.

I don’t think I’ll ever hoard. The thought of it makes my skin crawl. But, I am scared of whatever made her quit being creative and kept the hoard alive and breathing. I don’t want that kind of bad in my head. I stopped writing for so long, now that I have it back, I’m afraid I’ll lose it. I don’t want to end up like her.

And yes, I feel SO guilty for admitting that. Maybe that comes from having a parent with a metal illness. Maybe secrets. I dunno.

In my mind, it is very very comfy. Soft. Clean. LOL. Yes.. I though that, actually thought it first but felt weird saying clean, comfy..

So, this stuff that happened in the month of Dec. Well.. my Mr. got over worked at the job and was pretty worn down physically. He ended up leaving that job, started a new one today, but in those few weeks off, he was able to rest up and get back on his feet.

During this time we also had a chance to reconnect  a bit. We spent some time together also with our child. We had fun. We talked and did the whole Christmas thing with Santa, cookies, etc. We focused on us.

During this time though, people I trusted and thought were friends didn’t have anything nice to say about things(us). We didn’t live up to their expectations. See, my husband isn’t 100% well. Some people know this, others do not. We don’t go telling everyone we meet this. It’s none of their business. But these people, SHOULD have been SUPPORTIVE. They were not.

It’s amazing, but 6 or 7 people can destroy the trust I had in about 145.

Maybe that’s what happens when you grow up in a hoard? Or maybe it’s just like that for everyone? (since my virtual therapist can’t talk back… I’ll never know)

Maybe I just have trust issues. Ok, no maybe, I do.

Last night my husband and I took a leap back into that fold of people.

It wasn’t pretty. At. All.

Now, I’m torn. People were nice to his face, one man kept wondering if the Mr. was mad at him. Why would he ask this you wonder? Well, he’s one of the 6-7 that had smarmy comments to say. My Mr., he’s so graceful. He didn’t say anything mean.

Me? Nah, not so much.

I got mouthy when my vulture came at me.

It could have been worse. So much worse.

Now rumors will be flying. This woman has a big mouth. She came accusing, I told her it was none of her business, didn’t want to talk about it. Did that stop her? Nope. She made up crap to go into her old fantasied head.

So, now I’ll be back on my couch, which I’ve decided is dedicated to all my crazy insane thoughts. I guess it will help me from going mad in this messed up world I live in.

Well… not sure if anyone reads my crazy, but I’m back.

Maybe this blog should just be my couch and I can complain about everything under the sun.

I should be back after Christmas to give full updates on the hoard progress. BTW- I am SO proud of my father at this moment.

Anyway, MERRY CHRISTMAS! 

And if you don’t “do” Christmas, well fill in the blank with Merry __________________. If you know me, you know I mean no offense, I just don’t do PC stuff all that well.