A hoarder and his stuff, they’re best friends. On good days, hoarders like to spend time with their treasures. They take pride in maintaining their value by ensuring that they sparkle in their display cabinets and blind guests who take a closer look. On bad days, they become best friends with lazy bedfellow Procrastination and wish for a grand piano to crash into their treasures and turn them into rubble. Ok no, not really. But the bottom line is, nothing can break this close bond, not even baby grands. These are the confessions of a recovering hoarder.
Penny C can hoard.
It’s a miracle I managed to keep up with life when I spent a portion of my savings on purchases that never did prove their worth. I didn’t think I was a hoarder, I believed I was more of an avid collector. And because I collect, I have a very minimal sense of space speckled with impracticality. Being able to incorporate your finds into your home’s interior layout is awesome. But if you can’t, it’s ridiculous. I am ridiculous. Each area of space is used for storage; even it means floor and wall space. I am the one housekeepers are watchful of. I am the one you should never ask for interior and financial advice.
Until now.
What every recovering hoarder has is experience not to make the same mistake again. I thought it were the things I owned that made me who I was. I would buy tons of foreign magazines to feed my curiosity of the world outside my own and I never really got rid of those magazines. Til today, some of my collectibles still stay sealed in their unopened boxes. I was afraid of “ruining their value” so they never saw sunlight. Years down the road I’m pointing to my old self and laughing at me in the face. What the shizzle de fizzle was I thinking? If environmental officers came to my home to share about preventing home accidents, they would stand at the entrance of my room in horror (not even the mocking kind to be funny about it) and immediately classify it as a fire hazard.
But as I grew to be less addicted to hoarding whatever I could, it was a natural decision to quit. I quit piling magazines up because now when my brain sees the collection I’ve got, it screams “FIRE!!”. I’ve stopped hoarding furniture just so I could well, have room to walk about and mum wanted her pillows back. I’ve quit hoarding 2 months worth of chocolate bars still in the fridge because I have no space for real food. I was over that phase in my life where I was defined by possessions and decided to travel light in life.
So I’m a self proclaimed recovering hoarder. I did my own “intervention” because I couldn’t stand it more. I didn’t want any more possessions because as cheesy as it sounds, when I leave this beautiful world no one could look after my babies the way I did, I’m not allowed any carry-ons. I don’t hoard as much as before. Not physical materials anyway, but that’s another story for another time. I still do have to constantly think twice when doing my leisure shopping but as time goes by, I’m getting better at it. I am reaching a point in life where even the prettiest piece of jewellery on sale won’t be able to make it into my spilling collection of accessories. I’m no longer seeing the need to own more.
The result is less stuff, a little bit more room and a cleaner impression of the soul. It’s doing wonders for my bank account too. But like every hoarder has his day, every hoarded item needs to be discarded. Which are, erm, probably still tucked away in my incredible storage. Yes, this hoarder is definitely still recovering!
p.s. Psssst! I don’t have an a real disorder. I just happen to keep lots of things. Don’t complicate a simple mind. Are you a recovering hoarder too? Tell me!
Images from weheartit.
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