Home is Where You Keep Your Stuff

There's an old George Carlin routine that I found where he makes fun of how much stuff the typical American has in their home, and how we feel safe surrounded by our stuff. He goes on to poke fun at the anxiety of packing for a vacation, where we must decide how much of our precious stuff to take with us to keep us feeling comfortable while we're away from the four walls and a roof that hold all our stuff. The audience is laughing because, as is the case with all successful comedy, it's true. There are more altruistic sayings, like "home is where your heart is" or "home is wherever I'm with you," but let's be honest: we love our stuff.

There's a great line where points out: "Ever notice how your stuff is stuff and other people's stuff is shit?" On to the point of creating this blog. My mother is a hoarder. To me, and to all other rational minds, my mother lives surrounded by piles of shit. To her, it's her stuff; and she has a lot of stuff to love. 

After nearly seven years studying and working on the other side of the country, I'm moving home. For the summer at least (and hopefully only for the summer), I'm literally moving home. My mom understands that she has a problem - or at least understands that too many others think she has a problem to fully deny the problem; I'm never quite sure how she really views her surroundings. She's said she is willing to work on this problem, with my help. So, for the past several months, in addition to packing up mine and my boyfriend's stuff (all of which, broken down furniture included, fits into a 5'x7' taped out corner of our living room...the sight of which fills me with a twisted kind of joy that only the child of a hoarder could truly appreciate), I've been reading as much literature as I can handle about the best ways to talk to, and work with, hoarders. 

The suggestions are ridiculous. Don't touch their stuff first. Never throw anything away without their permission. Understand the anxiety it causes them to part with "belongings." Who's going to understand the anxiety it causes me to fake encouragement for her "efforts" as my mother slowly flips through a single decade old magazine in an afternoon only to decide there are too many interesting articles in it and she can't throw it away? My initial reaction to the things I've been reading is always indignation. I feel my stomach twist and my teeth clench down as I attempt to mentally process suggestions for dealing with hoarders that are equivalent to suggesting to parents that they deal with temper tantrums by always giving in to their child's demands, no matter how ridiculous.

BUT, all sources have been annoyingly consistent with their advice. Until I find an "expert" that suggests tying your loved one who hoards to a chair while you gleefully purge and re-organize their belongings, only freeing them when they say "thank you, it does look better, and I'm excited to function as a regular human being now!" I guess I'm stuck taking deep breaths and practicing delivering phrases like "I hear what you're saying and I understand your frustration" without sarcasm. Wish me luck!