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Category Archives: control and hoarding

Here I am again, second time in a week, I think this is the most progress I’ve made in some time -two postings in a week, that is.

So, first, a word about these posts, I’ve said it a while ago, when I began posting, but I feel it is worth reiterating: This is not a literary post, per-say. I edit only in a cursory fashion, and do my best to write in a somewhat visceral fashion, post pictures if I have them, and post in a projectile-puke-and-run sort of way. I say this to remind myself not to be too harsh on myself as I go back and re-read with editing eyes, but also to keep any other readers focused on the main point of this darned blog. I am just to make progress with hoarding, and stuff and the issues around hoarding, more than with writing here, and if I give in to my type a-ish traits (which believe me, play a strangely large role in all of this for me) and over think/over edit I won’t get any writing/sorting/tossing done, or certainly much less. Having said that, thank you for being kind with me linguistically and literarily. I actually do know how to write/edit etc., but that is not my primary purpose here . . .

I have just got off of the phone with my step-mom (Thank you, again Cin!). She is going to help me, this weekend, to go through Gran’s linen closet and decide what to keep, what to send with her, what to get rid of … Some of the things in there are already mine, but I haven’t sorted out what’s what. She is also going to take down Gran’s string of cards with me, as well as taking home Gran’s rose china and some other stuff. Essentially, she allowing me to give myself permission to be here, to settle in and unpack, and admit that this is where life is, and what it is, which, for once in an anguishingly long time is not a miserable thing.

I am struggling with worthiness, and faith in plenty, not even mostly on a physical level, but am ready to get on with it, and to find my place in my own life. There are great pits of sorrow that are waiting to be trolled, but I believe there will also be wells of hope and memories that can bring balance and recognition of worth and renewal of faith, not just in life-the-universe-and-everything, but in myself as well.

In the meantime, I believe I will focus on the kitchen which currently contains some gigante canvases that I, for some reason unbeknownst to me am storing there, as well as cupboards full of food that are older than I am, and possibly even older than my dad.

There are no pictures today, as my daughter has my phone so she can call me when she is done at the movies, and my camera batteries have been temporarily enveloped by The Stuff.

Stuff, Stuff, Stuff! No wonder one of my favorite words is cosas (“stuff” in Spanish) very useful in so many settings, hee hee!

I did deal with the stuff in the back of the truck. sorted into recycling and trash and is waiting curbside now, so WAHOO to that.

Also, a lovely aside. I went to a friend’s house today and she had just read my blog for the first time. She told me she wanted to take me out to her garage so I would feel better. I always doubt people when they tell me about their stuff. In any event, It did make me feel better, not because her stuff is worse than mine, or better, but just that it is stuff and that she is trying to deal with it. Seeing her disheveled side didn’t make me care for her any less, I wonder why it has that effect for me regarding myself. Hmmm… I will begin to look at the inverse of the golden rule, and not just the straight shot of it. I suppose I deserve the same chance I give to others.

Okay, enough typing, off to work. I will check in later on in the weekend.

Lastly,time for a happy picture up-date after that darn fuzzy-headed stern one from last fall. The hair is making a comeback.  ; )

Here I am feeling terribly happy, down right sunny. Portent (in the very best possible terms of the word)of things to come, with any luck.

Sunny Day in Fort Bragg

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Writing this blog is horrifying, I must admit.It has forced me to evaluate myself. I am not an exhibitionist, even though it may seem so, rather, this blog has served me well in the past for self moderation, motivation and feed back.It is akin to having sex with the lights blaring if you’re not particularly fond of your physical self. I have found it to be useful, and am still working on getting back into the swing of things.

I am trying hard to get my house in order, both proverbial and otherwise. I have started school for a new credential in order to teach the moderate to severe special education program next school year.

I spent HOURS, in my horrific rat infested garage yesterday trying to sort, and then simply pulling things out and cleaning. I did manage to sort out quite a bit (that seems like nothing compared to the over-all amount of stuff) to get rid of. I also filled, or nearly filled, the back of my truck with boxes to recycle and rat leaving and things the rats got into.

Stuff, stuff, and more stuff. Drowning in a sea of stuff. Learning to swim, as it were.

Oy, so much stuff!

Stuff sorting

Then I swept up the part of the garage I unburied. Phew. I am hoping to get back at it again today.

a small clean space.

I realized that not only since I’ve been here, but for years, in fact most of my adult life, in fact most of my life I’ve been depressed and overwhelmed my both my emotional and physical life.
A good friend asked me when I was going to stop being depressed. The answer is now, and I think the way to do it is to take control of my own life. I have been living for other people for so long, and even when I haven’t been doing so knowingly, I’ve been struggling with the idea of if what I was doing was right or wrong in the eyes of my family, or society, or whatever. Funny how all that time, I was mostly working under that heavy load without even really realizing I was carrying it around.
I am hoping to clear out much of the physical, as well as psychological and emotional crap in my life and be present. I think this is going to take a hell of an effort on my part, but I think it can be done. I finally believe, or at least am willing to look at the idea that not only to I deserve to be well and happy, but that it is okay, in fact great to have a bigger life, not in terms of anything physical, per say, but that I can be present and even booming, if I feel like it.
I want to deal with my physical stuff and turn the garage into a studio space that I can make art and write in. My experience in life has been that the more I do, the more I can do. so, I am hoping to get my s*** together and be able to spend more time with actively in my own life, of my own choosing being present.

stuff to donate

more stuff donate

... to the dump, to the dump, to the dump dump dump!

I found that I quite like getting rid of things. The hard part is not just pitching the whole lot. I think that is baby out with the bath water mentality.

getting there...

It may not seem like a heck of a lot, but the garage now has room for a washer and dryer, which will help with the chaos in the house, and I can move my glass kiln from the front seat of my truck to the garage. AND, the sidewalk is clear again, and I didn’t just shove it all back into the garage willy nilly. I am going to pat myself on the back instead of listening to the naggy bits in my head that remind me I didn’t get done. I suppose there is no done, only movement, at least as long as one exists in the physical land of the living.

 

Storm heading in during our brief visit to Reno this weekend.

Storm heading in during our brief visit to Reno this weekend.

Table is nearly empty. Getting down to minutia ...

Table is nearly empty. Getting down to minutia ...

I always find things are much easier to deal with on a macro, rather than a micro level. It is pretty easy to sort clothes and thing. Rather, I should say, it is comparatively easy. Getting down to buttons, bills I no longer need, magazines I”m not done reading, and the like have an ansane abililty to kick my ass and stop me dead in my tracks in  terms of dealing with stuff.

On the table are some binders I bought at the local outlet/seconds store. When I got them home and took a good look at them they were clearly either falling apart, or would be quickly with any use. The wise thing to do would have been to have inspected them thouroughly before buying them, of course. The next most desirable thing would have been to return or exchange them before I lost the reciept. Now I have to decide if I am brave enought to ask for what I want, wich is either an exchange, or a refund. I find it amazingly hard to ask for what I want or need of others.

I have quite a large pile of things to go to donation, including a box of things my grandmother brought home after her volunteer shift at the food bank. I swear, I got back at least one thing I had previously donated in addition to multiple sweaters, including some with a christmas theme. Not the kind of thing I am inclined to wwear, even when I was teaching elementary school. There is a large size garbage bag of clothes including some nice skirts, one or two clocks, some shoes, pants, and the like. There are also some books, and clean cottage cheese containers and lids to go to Down Home Foods, out local health food store. The containers are for holding things like raw agave nectar, and other foods and spices in bulk.

I am exhausted, and so this is the end of my post for Monday. Late, but more in the ball park than I’ve been lately!

Sweet dreams all!

-Pauline

Things waiting to be donated and a re-usable shopping bag waiting to move out to the car.

Things waiting to be donated and a re-usable shopping bag waiting to move out to the car.

progress, part 1

progress, part 1

I’ve not gotten as far as I’d like, but hopefully, by tomorrow I will have the table successfully cleared. I have been subbing in the preschool, had choir, Gran, life in general and my back has been out. I am terribly tired and am packing it in for today!

Hopefully more progress tomorrow.

Good night.

-Pauline

progress, part tow, mostly down to fabric, paper work and Misc.

progress, part tow, mostly down to fabric, paper work and Misc.

 

Mmmm, moldy cheese.

Mmmm, moldy cheese. Not! This was given with the best of intentions. I don't know if Gran can even see the mold any more. If she could she would tell me to cut it off. I am tired of cutting off the mold, espescially from new cheese, both actually and metaphorically!

Wow! This is a touchy subject, or it wouldn’t take me so long to finish writing and posting it. I started writing this Monday, came back Tuesday, Wed, Thursday and Friday. Still no post. I am going to finish it. It may be a bit rambly, convoluted and off topic, but I am going to attempt to finish this today. post it and get back on track. I feel disloyal, but I suppose that is part of the process at times.

The kids and I spent the night at Gran’s Monday night, or rather we tried. We’ve been trying to work it out to stay there at night since it became an issue a few weeks ago.  Her legs have been giving her trouble for a couple of months now in that every once in a while they won’t do what she tells them to, as it were. Trying to sort out how to make it work so that sleeping there is reasonable for everyone has been next to impossible. I had a plan I thought would work, in terms of where the kids and I would sleep according to noise levels

My back has been out to a larger and lesser extent for about a week now. I have good and bad days, and can’t always act as if I’m fine or be able to do everything Gran wants me to do for her. She asked me to do something (I don’t remember what) on Saturday and I told her I couldn’t as my back was out. She called up that evening and left a message telling the kids and I to come spend the night so she could look out for me.  We didn’t get the message until later, as we had been at the store when she called and when we got home I went up to bed. I saw her the Sunday morning and told her we’d spend the night that night. 

My daughter, Rowan, went over fairly early in the day and made some soup and was going to make gluten free bread, as well. Gran kept offering Rowan extra things to put in the soup. She, and I, both explained that Ro was following a recipe. Finally Gran let her finish sans rutabagas and whatever else might be lurking in the fridge.

My Son, Forrest,  and I returned later in the evening, as I was working on a graphic and made him something to eat, as he does not eat bacon. Once at Gran’s we all got ready for bed, made sure everyone had what they needed for the morning and hit the hay.

Forrest could not sleep in a bed not his own, and came in with some frequency to tell me he couldn’t sleep. I finally sent him home at 3 am and he went to bed there. It’s only a few blocks away, and he is no longer a minor.

In the morning,  I came out of the shower and over heard Gran heckling Rowan about not eating strawberries with her cereal. She told me later that she thought Rowan liked Strawberries, and that she wouldn’t bring them home anymore if no one was going to eat them. She offered to hull them for me for breakfast. I told her that Ro does like strawberries, but not necessarily with her cereal, and that she could hull the berries, but that I couldn’t eat them just then as I had to get Rowan off to school, and check on Forrest and get him to school as well. Rowan told me when we left that the strawberries were weird and moldy.

After school got out Gran called while Rowan was at her house doing home work and asked about dinner. I said I would bring some sausages over. She wanted to make rice and a vegetable, and I said sure. Gran called later to say Ro was sleeping and was wondering if she should wake her up. I told her to let her sleep, as she had been seeming worn down. I continued working on graphics. Forrest asked if I would take him to Gran’s for a shower and I told him he could take one after dinner. Just then Rowan called and said she was feeling really crummy and could I come and get her please.

Forrest and I headed over. I let Gran know about the change of plans, that we would not be spending the night or eating there, because Rowan was feeling sick, but That Forrest was going to stay and eat and take a shower. I asked her where I should put the sausage. She said, very gruffly that she didn’t want them and acted quite disgusted.  She said I could give the dinner to the dog. I asked why she was mad and she replied, “I am mad!”.  I wanted to know why and she said it wasn’t healthy to eat so late, and said some other things about how late we eat dinner, and our schedule.  She had water on for the rice, just about to boil. She had made a stew using the leftover bacon soup, lamb, rutabaga, and some other things.

I apologized, said I didn’t realize she was going to do all that, but that I had to get rowan home and to bed. I knew For wouldn’t eat dinner there, but I asked him to pretend and placate her and that I would feed him at home. I felt weird about it, but I often feel weird about food, among other things with Gran. She has fed us weird things all my life, and I always had to eat them. When I say weird, I don’t just mean tongue that she cooked and forgot to peel before serving, but rancid butter that everyone insisted was fine, strange things pulled from the refrigerator and made into soup (this was very hit and miss, as it good edge up to great or be somewhat horrifying, one never knew until it hit your mouth). Now I try to avoid being in that situation.

Food, like everything else in my family, has historically been hoarded, and not necessarily rotated so that it is being used and replaced. Anything was up for grabs, not just by Gran, but her parents and my dad, as well. We a re well trained hoarders. I think it comes from both genetics, anxiety and training. I really do come by these behaviors naturally.

I realized that I don’t much like to eat, in part because I had very little control over what when, how much, etc. I ate the whole time I was growing up. I love to cook, I don’t much like to eat. I forgot to eat for five days once, in college. I am beginning to understand this. I think it is about control, as is, in part my hoarding behavior.

Enough, enough for now. Perhaps I will return to this another time.