Today I took eleven bags of old clothing to the charity bin after a couple hours of semi-sorting, throwing away, and packing up what is left of my belongings at the house. It is a huge undertaking to sort through the hopes and dreams that you had ... deciding which to toss, which to give away, and which to keep. I managed to keep the tears away via the MP3 player until I walked into the bedroom where my husband now sleeps alone.
It was immediately that I burst into another hysterical fit of crying and had to sit down. He relentlessly cuts coupons, keeps tiny bits of paper, and leaves it sprawled across everywhere. It was like a bed in the middle of a trash dump. I think he has a compulsive hoarding disorder but you would never guess so. We had always struggled with this issue but I thought he had gotten it under control. The thought of him sleeping alone in that bed with all the mess around him slices a cut through my stomach -- especially since these problems seem to be so very treatable. I cried for him because I know something horrible has probably happened to leave him in this state and I am so sorry. I cried that I have another loss to add to my list.
I'm supposed to gather my financial statements - IRA forms, car title, etc., but I know that they will not be located. I wish I could fix it and I miss him. The next couple of weeks are not going to be easy.
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4 comments:
Hi, I just stumbled onto your blog this evening and found myself reading past posts...wanted to let you know that I appreciate your words and honesty in all you are going through. I especially identify with the anxiety and the stream of thoughts that come. I didn't just want to lurk around without saying, "hello". Take Care.
Thank you for your kind words. Have a good week.
My husband and I are both...collectors?...sounds better than hoarders. We went to borders today and as we entered he whispered "this is dangerous" and we dropped a hundred dollars. We have shelves of books in multiple rooms and we treasure them all. He also came with 30 feet of albums, all in alphabetical order, and he knows all the details of each of them. I somewhat work at keeping some order...he doesn't notice disorder. But and it's a big BUT..we really so understand the others interists, and even share many more than not, so it works. The other but, of course, is that not everyone could be happy living with either of us. The last man was in my life 7 years but we could never share a space...only visit frequently and then return to our own brands of comfort. So don't beat yourself over the head or over his. You're just not ,
'live together' compatable and while that's a shame it's just the way it is. And out there in the world is a compatable person. I hope i don't sound preachy...I want you to know you can find happiness.
Thanks. Yeah, I too have collections. I think when it becomes bad enough that the health department would shut you down then that is beyond a collection.
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