An Ah-ha Moment in the Midst of Mess

I had a real “ah ha” moment recently.  One of those eye openers that you just can’t ignore.

My step-daughter’s mother died recently and I was allowed to be part of the crew to come in and assist in cleaning out the apartment.  I consider her my daughter but to say my daughter’s mother died would be confusing.  Well, you get my drift.

A little backstory on her mother.  She and I were eerily similar in so many ways.  Both of us are Norwegian in heritage and then there’s the obvious of both of us having been married to the same man.
  
She was a very talented woman with skills ranging from being musical and playing clarinet in a band (also my instrument in high school), she loved music and art.  She had creative talents such as sewing, baking, decorating and calligraphy.  OK, she’s got me there, I can’t even read my own writing and she produced this stunning calligraphy.

She loved to laugh and did so often and loudly, but was troubled with depression.  Another thing in common.  I believe her humor was a bit more refined than mine.

We both shared a major fault.  She tended to hoard things and stockpile materials for projects to do “someday”.  I like to think my “collections” were kept neater than hers and therefore not hoarding but I could be wrong (or just in denial).

My awakening to this problem came to light seven years ago when we had to downsize to a 32’ motorhome to live in for five years.  So many “things” that I had to part with and it was so hard to do.  But afterwards I felt so much lighter.  It was like looking at all those unfinished ideas were staring at me and shouting “Failure!”  I knew I could never live long enough to use it all up, and yet could not stop collecting whatever caught my eye.

My situation seemed less out of hand because at the time I simply had more space in which to store stuff.  Most of it was in the basement (which resembled a craft/quilt store) and out of sight and out of mind.   Even though she moved into a three-bedroom condo with a garage it was simply not enough room to put things away in an orderly fashion.

Maybe being forced to see all these things around her made her feel like a failure also, but like me she couldn’t stop from buying all the material things that might make you happy.  Kind of like a person with a gambling addiction that can’t stop taking the next risk because the rush of it feels so good. I wish I could have known her more.  We’d have had some great talks.

It was a lot of work removing things and clearing out the space for new people to live someday and I was honored to be allowed into the situation with all its messiness and chaos to help.  I couldn’t stop thinking that this could have been me someday if I hadn’t been forced to abandon so much of what was holding me down before.

I’m sure the casual observer would look at this disaster and think, wow…what happened here.  It’s sad.  Hoarding is a disease and I’ve seen the effect it’s had on other families.  The person doing the hoarding keeps pushing people out of their lives as it becomes too uncomfortable to visit them in their environment.

And that’s what really hit me…and made me sad.  As we’re packing things up to be donated I noticed all the little touches.  A lovely two tiered plate with packages of tea artfully spread with a cup nearby, just ready for a guest who might stop by.

The decorative touches that were so painstaking planned and with an artistic eye to please whoever was to show up.  The table runner on the antique table.  The place-mats and linens for entertaining.  The candles and art everywhere to create a relaxing ambiance.  But none of that was visible without looking for it.  The eye is too distracted by the unfinished projects and items stacked up everywhere.

Before we left that day, the kitchen was cleared out and the counter tops washed.  We brought in some carryout to eat and sat at the table, something that was barely visible earlier in the day. You could move about between the rooms and we all felt our collective breathing relax just a bit.

So, it was with a profound sadness that I thought about the woman who had lived there trying desperately to be the person she really wanted to be but unable to achieve it.  The most chilling knowledge of all is that that woman could have been me.

Long Live the Queen