About a year ago I was in town for a few days for a friend's wedding. I suggested to my mom that maybe we could look through the patio full of tupperware bins stuffed with old magazines and "trim the fat," or perhaps clean out one of the three broke down cars in the driveway that are full of stuff and therefore can't be towed away. She had a meltdown; there was screaming, crying, and a whole lot of pouting. I felt incredibly overwhelmed and completely disheartened. I didn't even touch any of her stuff. Just talking about possibly touching her stuff brought on a reaction.
I knew I needed help, so after flying home defeated, I started looking up therapists in our area that specialized in compulsive hoarding. I could see that any suggestion from me was going to be viewed as an attack, but I thought maybe suggestions from an impartial outside source would have half a chance. I emailed several offices, and the numbers all came in at about $200 an hour. I cried each time I read one of these emails. My boyfriend and I both work in theater; we support ourselves and manage to pay our bills on time and tuck tiny bits away in savings, but there is no way I can afford to send my mom to therapy at $200 an hour. One kind woman carried on a brief email correspondence with me, even after I told her she was way out of my price range. She suggested I read Digging Out: Helping Your Loved One Manage Clutter, Hoarding, and Compulsive Acquiring by Michael A. Tompkins, PhD, and Tamara L. Hartl, PhD.
This book comes up often in searches for hoarding literature, so I assume it's pretty popular. The thesis of the book is: your loved one probably will not change, so don't try to force them to change. They instead suggest you focus on "harm reduction strategies." The book is written for adult children of hoarders whose hoarding parents are getting old and are having even more trouble navigating their cluttered lifestyle. They suggest making sure pathways are clear and wide enough for a walker, etc. There is one key assumption they make over and over again in the example scenarios: that your hoarding loved one owns their own home (most common), or at least pays their own rent.
My mother lives, rent free, in the home of a family friend...and he is not ok with the current state of the house he owns and she trashes. Let's backtrack a few steps. My mom is a single parent, and I am her only child. She's worked hard in life, but she's done several things "wrong." She's actually a really good pre-school / kindergarten teacher, but she never finished her degree. As she got older and technology past her by, and she couldn't keep organized, and she had more and more trouble "playing well" with younger colleagues, her ability to hold down a job diminished. The last several jobs she's had have all lasted less than a year. She mostly just does private, under the table, tutoring these days.
When I was very young we rented a home, with a housemate, from my grandmother. When that housemate eventually moved out, and my mom started struggling, my gradma let us stay on. Our house was normal when I was very young, but from about first grade on - when my mom tried to go back to school to complete her degree - it slowly filled with stuff. First by mom's room filled. When she couldn't walk in there anymore she put a bookcase in front of the door and we kind of ignored that it was even a room. She slept on the fold out couch in the living room. When our housemate moved out, her room filled next. By third grade I didn't have a bedroom; I slept in a sleeping bag on the floor near the door, with my clothes folded in piles by my head. Our fridge broke and we couldn't get it out of the house, so we bought a small "dorm fridge." Our stove broke, so we only used a microwave. Eventually our plumbing went and every time I took a shower I had to scoop the collected water up with a pitcher and toss it out the bathroom window, one pitcher at a time. If I had called child protective services, I would have been taken away from her: no question.
When I was in high school she went on a few dates with a family friend - a man who knew my uncle, her brother. Their relationship as a couple didn't work out, but they remained friends, and somehow, in a very awkward series of events that I don't remember the details of, she moved in with him. I slowly started staying there too, and by the time I was a junior, we lived there and she just abandoned our old house, full of stuff. Jack (not his real name) had a bedroom, my mom had a bedroom, and I slept on the murphy bed in the dining room. For a while this arrangement wasn't so bad. My mom helped with household chores and Jack seemed to enjoy, or at least not mind, the noise and life we brought to his very quiet, very empty, bachelor pad.
But, I left for college, and my mom slowly started to fill his home too. First the basement (which takes up the full footprint of the house), then the garage, and then her bedroom (she now sleeps with him...even though they are not in a relationship). The living room, dining room, and kitchen are still maneuverable, but there are stacks climbing up the walls in all three of these rooms. They live in a nice climate, so even the patio is stacked with tupperware bins. Jack obviously complained, and their relationship became fraught, but he doesn't have the heart to kick her out, so she stays, and they fight, and he is clearly miserable. By the way, her siblings eventually broke into the old house and cleaned up after her; causing an epic meltdown.
It fills me with such disgust that she can do this to another human being. A human being she would be homeless without. To do this to a child is to walk all over them. To do this to an adult is to slap them in the face. I don't know which is worse. Jack has threatened to throw her out several times. I don't know what I would do if he ever actually did. I don't want her with me. I've told her that if it comes to that I would take her, but none of her stuff. If she ever lives under my roof she will be afforded not an ounce of privacy. I will monitor every item she brings in, and regularly check her living space like a teenager suspected of drug use. I feel wretched to leave her as someone else's burden, but I don't want to take her on as mine again.
If she owned her own home, I would let her fill it to the gills, wallow in her own filth to her heart's content, and accept the job of cleaning up after her death. But that's not our situation. The book focuses on forgiving your loved one for the past. The past still hurts me, but I'm out and over it. There were several things my mother did right as a parent; she put my education above all else (she'll say that's why the house slid, though that doesn't account for her current living situation), and exposed me to a lot of art and culture. What I'm worried about is not the past, but the future. I've served my time with her, and I don't want to take on another prison sentence. I've worked hard to provide for myself, and I take extreme pride in my living space.
So, who's written the self help book for our situation? I'm desperate to read it.
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