Dealing with Hoarding and Trauma: My Journey to Self-Acceptance

TW: Hoarding, SH, CSA “I hate this. I hate BOYS! I hate my father, and my mother! I hate everyone! Nobody cares about me, nobody stays with me! So I don’t want to depend on ANYBODY. But, I hate it at the same time! It’s a PAIN! I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be ALONE! I DONT WANT TO BE ALONE!!” -Asuka I’m giving myself some grace. 2022 was painful. Very painful. I graduated and came out to my mom and dad (not father, just dad). They never made a fuss, neither did they bring it up. They also didn’t make a fuss when I got myself I short wolfcut. My sister said “it looks so…you!” And I couldn’t agree more. I think I’ll keep my hair short for a very long time. The little fuss my mom made when I cut it was “you had such beautiful long hair.” But a day or two later, she hugged me and said, “you look jut like your late aunt. Like two drops.” I never met her, but I’m glad I reminded her of her sister. Being home for the holidays during school was different. Now I’m here to stay. I see everyone on their story stating how they’re on their way back to campus, and I’m here at home. Home. We live right next to the highway. Two years ago, I wanted to jump in front of those cars. Stood right on the edge. I’m still here. My mom, by definition, is a hoarder. She keeps so many things she doesn’t need and piles things on top of each other to create an infinite stack of clothes or trash. She also exhibits adhd like symptoms. And there’s a genetic component to it too. My sisters and I exhibit adhd symptoms too. I like collecting things. And there were times when I was able to take a step back and say “This is getting out of control” and just hyperfocus on throwing things out. My mom gets these moments super rarely now. She’s has chronic pain. My sister and I have set out to clean out an entire area of our one bedroom/one bathroom apartment to make it livable. We sleep on a full size bed in the living/kitchen room. Last week, we did the kitchen. We were able to eliminate two big roach nests. This week, we cleared the area that had the pillar of my moms clothes in front of our drawers and organized her clothes (and in turn, ours too). We cleaned out the closet. I’m between all of this, we’re putting things either in storage or donating them. A month ago, my mom said that every two weeks, she’s send things to her family back home, so to not donate any of my clothes so she can send it. That was again, a month ago. It costs her money to do that, and my storage space is running low, so I’m just dropping things off at the goodwill when we have a chance with the truck. When we cleared out the kitchen last week, she asked where the big umbrellas were (she’d not once asked for them, even when it was raining!). We told her we tossed them and she became visibly upset. “Those were useful! We could’ve used those!” I don’t think she knew that they were infested with roaches. After cleaning the closet, she asked, “what did you throw away?” Trash. We threw away trash. I’m not sure what she wanted me to say. My mom grew up in poverty. She never had anything growing up. I theorize that her inner child is urging her to save every little thing. To make up for all the time she didn’t have anything. But now there’s four people, two of whom are her daughters who are only trying to make this place livable. My mom was married to a human. My father. An abuser. A pedophile. I’m mostly healed from that. To what level my mom is, I’m not sure. When it came out what my father did to my older sister and I, he fled the country before any justice could be served. My mom is still traumatized. I can tell. We were watching a novela and one of the characters was found to be a pedophile. Without warning, she asked, “you’re still planning on getting justice from what your father did, right?” I had mentioned to her that once I’m well off, I would begin a case to…find him. Absolutely mom. I’m tired of boys. Of men. I wish I was a girl. I was born a female, but I so desperately wish I was a girl. To be the gender others perceive me to be. But even girls are hard to talk to. The dude had the entire winter break to settle his schedule. Wednesdays are the only day I can travel back on campus. The only day, I wish I was wrong, but I checked so many times. It’s the only day that’s feasible. This dude it’s screwing that over. It’s already bad enough that another dude in that group randomly ghosted me due to his lack of communication. Lack of communication. I’m tired of boys and men who can’t communicate. If it were up to me, I’d never let that happen. I’ll still see them on Wednesday. I’m not taking shit anymore. If they can’t fix this, I’ll simply leave the campaign. I don’t want to, and I’d prefer to fix this verbally. I’m just not taking any more of it this year. I’m not taking it. I got my dream job. Health insurance. I will finally get the treatment I need. I’ll be lifted out of poverty’s claws. I’ll be attending my professors beautiful lectures and his labs. My children are in perfect health. I’m learning to drive. I have an amazing haircut. And I’m the first fucking person in my family to get a fucking bachelors. I’m allowed to give myself some grace. I’m allowed to not take shit from others. I’m over it. 🎶 This is a life, free from destiny 🎶 Thanks for reading if you made it this far. This is my first post of 2023. You’ll definitely hear more of me. Take care, drink water and your meds!