tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33103313358314788512023-11-16T04:04:21.993-08:00Stepping Out of the FogAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.comBlogger62125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-47128053042705709072017-04-01T14:41:00.000-07:002017-04-01T14:41:41.459-07:00I am Not an AssholeI feel like when it comes to my parents, some people might think that I am an asshole. I live in another country from my parents. The last time I visited to see them was in August of 2014. However I do try to what I think is reasonable and call them once a week. My mother has been diagnosed with <a href="https://www.lbda.org/category/3437/what-is-lbd.htm" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Lewey Body Dementia</a> and is living in a Seniors Home. My father is continuing to live in a Independent Living apartment. <br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Inspiration</span></strong><br />
I was inspired to title this post by the thread on Reddit, <a href="https://www.reddit.com/r/hoarding/comments/1g2djg/why_children_of_hoarders_sometimes_come_across_as/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Why children of hoarders sometimes come across as assholes</a>, which captures the feeling I carry. In the post, the Reddit writer tries to responds to the outside voices that seem to show very little understanding, but a lot of judgment. They say things like "You need to show more compassion towards the parent who is suffering too"<br />
<br />
The writer responds with "No, as a matter of fact. The child is a victim. Perhaps not as bad as growing up with an alcoholic or violent parent, but this child has lived with shame, isolation, low self-worth and quite probably a distorted world-view in which the hoarding parent is justified in everything. In fact, children are often a captive audience for the parent to air all their little justifications which will make the feeling of guilt go away for a little while."<br />
<br />
This is a response that is fitting for Reddit and will not be heard by the concerned family member.<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Recent Developments</span></strong><br />
I have noticed for a long time that my father does not talk to me for very long. He is living alone in a 2 room apartment in a Independent Living facility. I watch the clock as we talk, seeing that at 3 minutes he says, "Ok I got to go." Where do you have to go? What is so urgent? He is always quick to tell me things like "I went shopping, but I didn't get very much. I don't need very much." I didn't ask him what he was buying, he was volunteering this information.<br />
<br />
Here is what one of the shortest calls with my father in a long time looked like:<br />
<em>He got on, said he had visited my mom, and then said he had a call.<br />"Gotta go."<br />That was it.<br />Don't know what's going on.</em><br />
<br />
Last year, after my mother was moved to a senior center to get better attention for her condition, he told me that he would downsize, and ask for a smaller apartment in his facility. I thought that would be a good step, made sense, and might help with his growing expenses.<br />
<br />
I had said: <em>"Are you planning to downsize?"<br />"Yes."<br />"Are you still in the same 2 room apartment?"<br />"Yes, I am on the wait list for a smaller place. But they are fully booked here."</em><br />
<br />
But who are we fooling?<br />
<br />
I didn't believe that the word 'downsize' was in his vocabulary.<br />
<br />
Then a week ago, I brought up the issue again.<br />
<em>"What about moving to a smaller apartment?" I asked<br />"What?"<br />"What about moving to a smaller apartment, didn't you put in a request?"<br />"I have to go now, exercise is starting soon."<br />"Wait, wait a second. What about moving to the smaller apartment."<br />"No I never made a request. Maybe later."</em><br />
<br />
I criticized myself for even trying to pursue the issue in a deeper conversation. <br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Concerned Cousin</span></strong><br />
Recently an out of state cousin, came to my father's town. She was looking to hook up with him. But didn't get very far. <br />
<br />
She wrote me saying:<br />
<em>I have been trying to call your Dad for 10 days and cannot reach him. I am worried.<br />I told him that we would be in town for a week. We wanted to see him while we are here but he doesn't answer nor does he return messages on his land and cell phones. What is happening?</em><br />
<br />
I just told her that he was a tough guy to pin down. I felt like she might think like I was an asshole, because she was writing with a sense of urgency, while I responded nonchalantly. I simply told her to try calling very early in the morning, that was when I usually had the most success at reaching him.<br />
<br />
She doesn't know about my parents hoarding or what their home looked like. She has only seen our family from afar - seeing me living in another country, my sister not talking to my parents, and perceiving my father as slumping into an occasional depression.<br />
<br />
I wasn't going to try to build my case and tell her my life's experience, but simply remind myself that - I am not an asshole.<br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-36828808594995036872016-09-09T06:37:00.001-07:002016-09-09T06:37:45.667-07:00Hoarder Evasiveness - A Honed TraitI spoke to my father.<br />While sharing my conversation with a friend, his take was that my father was losing his mental grasp.<br />But I dont think he suffers from dementia, despite his memory seeming to mix up events.<br />He also takes his old approach with me, where he always has an excuse for something, while just using poor memory as his defense.<br />
<br /><strong><span style="font-size: large;">The Latest Conversation</span></strong><br />"Have you heard from your sister in the last two years?" my father asked.<br />"What? No, why?"<br />"Just curious."<br />"Why are you bringing this up now? You just talked to her recently. Remember you called her."<br />"I know, but I thought she would call us back to ask about how your mother was doing."<br />"Well I guess she didn't."<br />
"Do you want to talk to her?" I asked<br />"No, I don't want to have anything to do with her."<br />"Because she didn't call about Mom?"<br />"Yes, and she didn't treat us very well."<br />"What happened?"<br />"It wasn't comfortable living with her. Her husband never spoke to us."<br />"Would you like to talk to her children, your grandchildren?"<br />"Huh? Well yes, of course."<br />"Maybe you could just ask her for her daughter's phone numbers and then just talk to them."<br />"No."<br />"Why?"<br />"The only thing I remember is that she said 'you will never see your grandchildren again.'"<br />"When did she say that?"<br />"When we were moving to the independent living that's when she said that."<br />"Uh, no you weren't," I pointed out, "you were living with her, then in your house. Only after she was kicked out of your house by Adult Protective Services did you suggest to move to an independent living facility."<br />"Ok, well, I don't know, my memory isn't so good."<br />
"So did you see Mom?"<br />"Not since last week, there was no bus on Labor Day to go to the Home."<br />"Did you call her?"<br />"There is no way to reach her. She has no phone."<br />"Maybe when you go to the Home you can ask for how to call."<br />"Call who?"<br />"Uh, call Mom."<br />"Oh, yeah sure her."<br />"Maybe you can ask Home if they have an address for sending stuff."<br />"What stuff?"<br />"You know, pictures and letters."<br />"To send to who?"<br />"Uh, um, to Mom."<br />"Oh, ok, yeah."<br />
"Have you been in touch with other relatives?"<br />"No, why have you?"<br />"Yes, after you called those cousins that sent me emails that they were concerned."<br />"Well I haven't been in touch with anybody else."<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">My Perspective on the Conversation</span></strong><br />
I think from an outside perspective this may be a cause for concern. However from my perspective I see this as part of a long and consistent approach to difficult issues - in other words he becomes frustratingly evasive.<br />
<div>
</div>
<div>
I would highlight two things about this conversation</div>
<ul>
<li>contradictions</li>
<li>evasiveness</li>
</ul>
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Contradictions</span></strong><br />
<div>
He seems to readily provide many internal contradictions in his narrative.</div>
<ul>
<li>he implicates my sister for threatening to withhold contact with his grandchildren but doesn't want to make any effort to have contact with his grandchildren (any of them neither her kids nor my kids)</li>
<li>he resents how my sister seems to shrug off our mother's state of health yet doesn't want to help me be in closer contact with our mother</li>
<li>he asserts that his mental faculties are in a far better state than most people he has come across in the senior centers yet when I ask him some seemingly simple questions about a phone number and address for my mother he puts on the appearance of dementia</li>
</ul>
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Evasiveness</span></strong><br />
This all funnels into observations about evasiveness. As a proven and long time hoarder, ignoring the 'elephant in the room' is a trait that he has perfected to a skill. My mother could lash out in diatribes of fury and he would talk to me about the weather. For other more serious issues, like my sister initially leaving home and getting pregnant - he just never brought those things up - as if my sister didn't exist for 5 years. <br />
<br />
Even the most recent relationship and child, even though he had visited her in 2012 (before moving to live with her) he didn't bring up to me, in recounting his visit, that my sister had a new husband and new kid.<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">My Conclusion: The Hoarding Connection</span></strong><br />
I see this same evasiveness now in regards to my mother. He would happily talk to me about the weather and politics in our calls and not mention my mother at all. Even when I asked him outright for a phone number, he didn't know what to say but to seemingly play dumb. <br />
<br />
My personal feeling is that his answer is instinctual. As I stated, being a hoarder, he has honed this trait of ignoring big issues.<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-17729637911155745162016-07-01T07:36:00.003-07:002016-07-01T07:36:50.351-07:00Sibling EstrangementI called my father this past week. It was a short call, only about 10 minutes. That's how long our chats are. He usually fills up the call with the weather or politics or a current event. Rarely something personal. <br />
<br />
So I was surprised when in the middle of the call he asked, "Have you heard from your sister?"<br />
"No," I said.<br />
"Yeah, neither have I."<br />
I haven't heard from my sister since December 2013. She had always held resentment to me, seeing me as The Golden Child. She would vent to me about our parents, but if I validated and subsequently shared my own similar experience she'd lash out at me. The last talk we had was a Skype chat. I tried to schedule another chat but that was it, she had other plans. I'll go it more detail with what she planned and how she carried it out, but it didn't work out.<br />
"Did you try calling my sister?" I said.<br />
"Oh no," my father said.<br />
"Why do you think she wouldn't call you?" I said.<br />
"Her husband never liked us," my father said, diverting the talk, "he would go in the other room to eat when we entered the room or not talk to us."<br />
"Hmm, do you know why?"<br />
"No I don't know why."<br />
"Do you suspect why my sister doesn't call you now?"<br />
"No, I have no idea."<br />
I grew frustrated with his evasiveness. Maybe I was falling into his trap again.<br />
"Maybe," I said, "just maybe, they are angry at you because your lawyer brought in the Adult Protective Services and they carried out an investigation which resulted in them receiving an ultimatum to leave your house and to have no further part of your care. Maybe she is still angry."<br />
"Well I don't know about that," he said.<br />
"What do you mean," I asked.<br />
"Look," he said, "I don't remember. I was sick so my memory isn't what it was once."<br />
"You don't remember this?"<br />
"No."<br />
Then he excused himself saying he had to go to dinner.<br />
His conversations usually end abruptly with a breakfast, or a dinner or an ice cream social, anything to get out of actually talking.<br />
He plays around with his memory problem. He had one seizure in October 2013 and said how he didn't remember what happened that week, gradually after that everything that I brought up that he found uncomfortable, then he brought up his memory as being at fault, unable to recall specific events particularly ones that had the most significance.<br />
I'll like to go back and explore the events that lead up to the current sibling estrangement.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-33267530574225423692016-06-23T14:24:00.003-07:002016-07-01T07:09:47.020-07:00Trained DisappointmentIs dashing your expectations a common trait of hoarding parents, without even referring to the hoard itself?<br />
<br />
This was something that I used to discuss in therapy and became acutely aware of how this was a chronic behavior by my parents, almost taking delight in finding ways to disappoint me. <br />
<br />
So I have tried to be aware of warning signs when I feel a disappointment building. Sometimes I better at doing this than others. <br />
<br />
<strong>Complaining in the Home</strong><br />
My parents are now living in a two bedroom apartment in an independent living facility. After being there a year, my father started to complain to me on our weekly phone calls. He would say things like:<br />
"It's boring here."<br />
"They don't give us enough activities."<br />
"They don't listen to my suggestions."<br />
"Hardly anyone attends the lectures they provide, and I'm the only one to ask questions."<br />
I heard this week after week and I tried to keep a thick skin and not get involved. The complaining continued. Finally, I said, "Would you like to get more information about independent living facilities near where I live?"<br />
"Yes I would," said my father.<br />
<br />
<strong>Getting Involved</strong><br />
I repeated my question a few times to make sure that he really wanted me to round up some information for him. "No pressure," I said, "after I send you the information we can discuss it and see what is missing, if you actually want me to visit any of these facilities for you."<br />
Geographically I live very far from my parents, a long plane-ride away, so if this happened it would be a big move.<br />
My father reassured me that he wanted me to gather up the information. "Don't send it by fax," he said, "try to mail it."<br />
They did not use email and barely used the internet. He was concerned that the people in the facility he was living in would see the fax come in before delivering it to him. I reassured him that I would send the information in a printed letter (snail mail).<br />
<br />
<strong>Disappointment</strong><br />
I had spoken to a few advisors in my area on good options for independent living arrangements. I put the information into an Excel file and printed it up and sent it off.<br />
<br />
At our weekly phone call, my father didn't mention anything about receiving any mail from me. I waited another week. Again no mention. Then another week. I saw he wasn't going to be forthcoming. "So did you get my letter with information about independent living options in my area?"<br />
"Oh yes," he said. <br />
"What this week? Recently?"<br />
"No," he said, "two weeks ago."<br />
"Ok," I said, "do you have any questions, do you want additional information, do you want me to visit any of these places."<br />
"No, no that won't be necessary."<br />
"Uh, ok," I said, "anything else?"<br />
"No, no, we like it here, we had a nice dinner tonight."<br />
He stopped complaining about the place, didn't ask me any more about options in my area, and didn't talk about even considering leaving the independent living facility anymore.<br />
<br />
A few weeks later I was talking to my mother. She complained a little and expressed concern, about the possibility if my father were to pass away before her. "Well I sent a letter with information about options in my area, would you like to discuss it?"<br />
"Yes I would," said my mother.<br />
"Do you have the letter with you?"<br />
"I think it's here somewhere."<br />
"Can you ask Dad?"<br />
"I'm asking him, but he's not here."<br />
"Where is he?"<br />
"He just walked out."<br />
The letter never turned up and nothing was discussed.<br />
<br />
Kind of like this:<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDggG2nwESp4-7ME095LyfzcUjS7rltyFW3hsEl2uuqrOOk30MuwzvzibYV91hTkv_TVnMc280JGgsIiZGtp2t1f8N4FTgrLI5N_DEFtK4PJh_36rmXHyKHTCW0XapL9Z0P1NFJMB9Bgy7/s1600/charlie-brown-and-lucy-with-football.png" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDggG2nwESp4-7ME095LyfzcUjS7rltyFW3hsEl2uuqrOOk30MuwzvzibYV91hTkv_TVnMc280JGgsIiZGtp2t1f8N4FTgrLI5N_DEFtK4PJh_36rmXHyKHTCW0XapL9Z0P1NFJMB9Bgy7/s400/charlie-brown-and-lucy-with-football.png" width="400" /></a><br />
<br />
<strong>Question</strong><br />
Do you encounter chronic episodes of disappointment or dashed expectations from your parents?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-14877394046598681582016-05-27T06:19:00.000-07:002016-05-27T06:19:00.618-07:00Splitting Up?Spoke to my father last night. My parents are living in an independent living facility. They moved back in 2014, and shortly after sold the house that was hoarded. They didn't sell the house themselves, but had help from an estate planning attorney appointed financial planner. I think if it would have been up to them they would have stayed in the hoarding house to the end.<br />
<br />
<strong>Pulling Teeth</strong><br />
When I call my father, he immediately lets me know that he is the middle of something. This time he was in the middle of a lecture by a children's author talking about stories. <br />
He joked, saying "You know I'm one of only 3 men in this place, and there are another 70 women."<br />
<br />
Otherwise, he told me that everything is going great. <br />
<br />
"Have you been to the doctor lately?" I asked.<br />
"Yes I have an appointment this afternoon," he said.<br />
He talked about the weather, the upcoming presidential elections, and some activities in their independent living facility. <br />
"So everything is good," I said.<br />
"Well," he sighed, "I did have another episode."<br />
"Sleepwalking?" I asked.<br />
"No, I was in the lobby reading a newspaper and I seemed to pass out."<br />
"You fell asleep while you were reading?"<br />
"No, they think I might have had a minor seizure or something."<br />
"Well did you go to the doctor since then?"<br />
"Yes I'm going today, but I was looked at."<br />
"When?"<br />
"In the ambulance."<br />
"What ambulance?"<br />
"After I passed out the people in the lobby called an ambulance."<br />
"Were you aware, were you awake then?"<br />
"Yes, of course, um, I think so."<br />
<br />
<strong>Mom's Update</strong><br />
He reassured me that he was doing good now.<br />
"So how is Mom," I asked again.<br />
"Well," he hesitated, "I guess fine."<br />
"How fine? Does she show resentment towards you?"<br />
"Yes, all the time."<br />
"About anything in particular?"<br />
"No, she is just constantly berating me, and she sees things that aren't there. She says she hears people in our living room, or a cat in the kitchen. But there's nothing."<br />
"She's still going to the other nursing home for activities twice a week?"<br />
"Yes, she goes by herself. I need the break."<br />
"Are you able to relax?"<br />
"Yes."<br />
"Does she have any preferences?"<br />
"She says that she'd like to live near you. But that is completely out of the question, we aren't leaving this city."<br />
"Ok."<br />
"She will probably be moving."<br />
"Moving where?"<br />
"To the nursing home that she visits twice a week."<br />
"To live there permanently?"<br />
"Yes," he answered.<br />
"What is the living conditions like over there?"<br />
"Oh, wonderful, I am having a great time."<br />
"No," I snapped, "I mean in the nursing home where Mom will go. Will she have her own room, or be with a roommate?"<br />
"I don't know," he said.<br />
"When will she go?"<br />
"I don't know."<br />
"What does she think about this?"<br />
"She doesn't know. The financial planner is organizing this."<br />
<br />
So my father will soon by one of three men with over 70 senior ladies around him, and will only see his wife once a week. <br />
<br />
The financial planner had warned me that my mother was starting to be a handful. Next update.<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-82595147243327681612013-07-29T08:42:00.000-07:002016-05-27T05:26:49.482-07:00Watching From Afar<b><span style="font-size: large;">Watching From Afar</span></b><br />
Without direct contact, I have only seen a little bit of what is happening on the ground from my niece's Facebook updates. Upon arriving at my parents place, she wrote "Saw my grandparents house, the first house I ever lived in...now it looks like shit."<br />
<br />
I knew exactly what her impression was, how heavy and depressing the place felt.<br />
<br />
"I feel like I've already been gone for weeks and its only been a day."<br />
<br />
Books stores are adorable with the lil old people<br />
<br />
are apparentally coming home anytime betweed the 1st and the 20thAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-89990018177080499182013-07-28T07:52:00.000-07:002016-05-27T05:26:49.484-07:00The Bad GuyMy sister is cleaning up the hoard house. Kind of strange to be considering this taking place. My sister had made her plan absolutely clear to get the house cleaned up <b><a href="http://steppingoutofthefog.blogspot.co.il/2013/02/the-visit-time-to-clean-up-and-close.html" target="_blank">for the past year</a></b>. Then when I suggested that my sister was set on cleaning up the house, to move in and take over, my <a href="http://steppingoutofthefog.blogspot.co.il/2013/01/maybe-i-said-too-much.html" target="_blank"><b>parents dismissed that</b></a>. So I took a more reserved (aloof?) approach and held back and <a href="http://steppingoutofthefog.blogspot.co.il/2013/05/just-watching.html" target="_blank"><b>watched</b></a>. Talking to my sister wasn't an option. I just could not talk with her anymore, it was too <a href="http://steppingoutofthefog.blogspot.co.il/2013/04/on-thin-ice.html" target="_blank"><b>difficult</b></a>. My comments to her were met with accusations, leaving me to feel like an outsider in the family dynamics.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Checking Out the Hoarder's House</span></b><br />
I went to visit my <a href="http://steppingoutofthefog.blogspot.co.il/2013/02/the-visit-time-to-clean-up-and-close.html" target="_blank"><b>parent's house earlier this year</b></a>. My sister insisted that I should roll up my sleeves and <a href="http://steppingoutofthefog.blogspot.co.il/2013/02/my-sister-yells-at-me-and-says-im-cold.html" target="_blank"><b>help clean up the hoard</b></a> while I was there. I held back, and made her frustrated, focusing more on my parent's well being. I saw the hoard as an enormous project. Not only was it big, my parents made it clear that they <a href="http://steppingoutofthefog.blogspot.co.il/2013/02/vaccuuming-hall.html" target="_blank"><b>didn't want me touching it</b></a>. With my father's health in question, and my mother barely functioning intellectually, I put before my parents their options, and they confided in me at how shocked that <a href="http://steppingoutofthefog.blogspot.co.il/2013/03/i-didnt-see-this-happening.html" target="_blank"><b>their situation had deteriorated</b></a>.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Not Much Input from Home</span></b><br />
In talking with my parents I <a href="http://steppingoutofthefog.blogspot.co.il/2013/05/not-getting-anywhere.html" target="_blank"><b>don't get much input</b></a> about their lives.<br />
"How is it going?" I asked.<br />
"Everything is just as it should be, I guess," my mother said.<br />
"Ok, well you're getting ready to move right?"<br />
"Yeah."<br />
"OK. That's a big change. Very exciting," I said.<br />
"I don't know how exciting it's going to be. But it is a big change."<br />
<br />
They had decided on the option to move in with my sister. They didn't discuss or explain what that meant on a practical level. The hoard house would take awhile to sort things out and bring up to a proper standard. They didn't divulge what was to happen with the house, and who would take possession.<br />
<br />
"Ok," I asked, "so they are flying out to you and then getting a Uhaul and everyone is going back with that?"<br />
"I'm not sure exactly how its going to work," said my mother, "With your sister, how she plans things come out different then how they start."<br />
"That sounds exciting."<br />
"Yes and <i>I know you want to hear all about it,</i>" my mother said, accusingly.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">It's Only Stuff</span></b><br />
I visualized what I still had in the hoard house. Years ago, I had packed up 6 boxes and put them in my closet. Half of those boxes were papers from school projects. They could easily be put out to recycle. Another couple boxes were books. They could be taken to the used book store. The last box was my vintage Star Wars toys. I had checked on eBay for what they might be worth. Hardly a fortune. Maybe the box could go for $100, to some earnest collector.<br />
<br />
As peer encouraged, "Just keep repeating to yourself the mantra, 'It's only stuff and I have better things to do than get worked up about stuff!'"<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">The Scope of the Hoard</span></b><br />
I had always believed that tackling the hoard was a big project, and to properly sift through nostalgic items, possible old items of value, and donate stuff could take months. So how could my sister think she would cleaning things up in a couple weeks. I assumed she was looking at the big prize: selling the house. My father, in recent phone calls, had mentioned that property values were rising. So my sister could just bulldoze through all the stuff, get the house emptied and on the market as soon as possible. Again, I am out of the picture. My sister insists that I am too difficult to get in touch with, according to my parents.<br />
<br />
"I am right here," I said, "she can contact me by phone, or if she wants by email and I can phone her back, or even Skype."<br />
"Hmm," my father said, "well, I don't know about those technologies."<br />
"Here let me make it easy for you."<br />
Even though I am overseas, I gave him a US based phone number that he could use to call me directly. He called. "Wow, that's even clearer then when you call me," he said.<br />
"There," I said, "and along with everything else, you have a local phone number you can call to talk with me."<br />
I felt relaxed that I had proven that the excuse about not being able to call me was just an excuse.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">A Sister's Blog</span></b><br />
With my sister taking the lead with our parents, I imagine what my sister would be writing now if she were blogging about dealing with hoarding parents. I presumed it would go something like this.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
That dick of a brother didn't come to help. I'm here cleaning out our parent's home with my husband from this hoard and junk, and he couldn't even hall his lazy ass over here. I told him. Yes I did. I told him in December that the situation was bad. The hoarding had grown out of hand. Rotting food was in the fridge. And all he could say was, 'Well Mom and Dad say that they're fine.'</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
You bet they say that. They have a mental illness. They deny everything! Well at least <i>I'M</i> doing something about it. Looks like I'm the only one that cares. He had a chance to come out here and sort through any nostalgic stuff, cause I'm throwing it now. I don't have time for this. I've gotta baby and my 15 year old is going crazy out here. I told my husband, we'd just be a week or so. Clean up, and put the house on the market. No, if you're reading, you lazy ass, you are not getting a share of this house. I am cleaning up. I am fixing up stuff where necessary. I am selling it. You can go to hell.</blockquote>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Brother's Guilt?</span></b><br />
I feel kind of weird around the whole issue. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe I am right. Maybe it's not my business. I talk to my parents regularly, but I don't confront them about the hoard. It is the elephant in the room. When I even allude to cleaning up, my father always says, "I'm working on it, I'm working on it, you just have to give me some time," leaving me with the feeling that I am getting in the way of him cleaning up.<br />
<br />
My outlook has always been in looking at separate the two issues: My parents personal welfare and the condition of the house. I have been all for addressing my parent's personal welfare and <a href="http://steppingoutofthefog.blogspot.co.il/2013/02/setting-appointment-for-doctor.html" target="_blank"><b>got them to see doctors</b></a>, and started them on tours of assisted living facilities. The conversations just ended up <a href="http://steppingoutofthefog.blogspot.co.il/2013/04/conversation-circles.html" target="_blank"><b>going in circles</b></a>. They turned down the assisted living option, saying "Your sister has insisted on us coming to live with her. She is arranging health insurance for us."<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Don't Worry So Much</span></b><br />
As one confidante explained, "You have now been cast as a 'victim' child while your sister is a 'golden' child, at least for the moment." That's what I explained to my wife.<br />
<br />
I had told her that things were going to turn out that my parents had made up their mind to go and live with my sister, and that the house would probably fall into her hands. My wife told me <a href="http://steppingoutofthefog.blogspot.co.il/2013/03/maybe-theyre-just-lazy.html" target="_blank"><b>not to worry too much</b></a>, that I had been a good son but wasn't really considered in all this, just looked at how you could balance out some of the work. "If your sister is truly determined to take care of them, and take on this responsibility, and finally take on the house then let her have it, and save yourself the headache."<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>So what do you think, am I the bad guy now?</b></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-75889802013790462862013-07-16T11:25:00.001-07:002013-07-16T11:25:09.298-07:0010 Key Points from The Hidden Lives of Children of Hoarders<br />
<ol>
<li>As one children of hoarders said, “How can you feel worthy when your own parent chooses garbage over you?”</li>
<li>As children get older they become more conscious of their own vulnerability, worthlessness, helplessness, hopelessness, disgust, embarrassment, and social isolation, connected to feeling less valued than the stuff being hoarded.</li>
<li>Children of hoarders leave, sometimes moving far away to get the psychological distance they need. </li>
<li>Children of hoarders usually find themselves rejected by their parents. </li>
<li>Sometimes parents pit siblings against one another and the one that does not interfere with the hoarding behavior is usually preferred. </li>
<li>By living far away, Children of hoarders miss out on family experiences and celebrations. The whole family is unable to share the family’s evolution over generations. </li>
<li>Grandchildren cannot visit their grandparents’ homes, and family traditions are lost or never established. Reunions with parents are in hotel restaurants, and holidays are in other people’s homes. </li>
<li>Some adult Children of hoarders simply walk away from their entire family knowing that separation is the only hope for a better life. </li>
<li>Even from afar, Children of hoarders wonder: Will my children ever know my father? Will my parents need assisted living because they cannot safely navigate the clutter? Will I find my aging parent dead in a pile of trash? Will we have to clean up the mess after they die?</li>
<li>Parents rarely prepare for being disabled or too old to hoard. The children of hoarders' ultimate inheritance is salvaging the remains of a hoarded house.</li>
</ol>
<br />
<br />
From <i><a href="http://www.psychiatrictimes.com/hidden-lives-children-hoarders/page/0/2#sthash.AkIxkp0E.dpuf" target="_blank">The Hidden Lives of Children of Hoarders</a> </i>By Suzanne A. Chabaud, PhD<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-24151180504538427992013-07-08T00:24:00.001-07:002013-07-08T00:24:26.898-07:00NodesI was sitting with a friend and he brought up a political issue. He told me how he liked this issue and gave a simple example of how he would enjoy it. I expressed my position, saying how I didn't like this law and how it would make my life difficult without seeing much benefit to the whole, and I suggested a compromise.<br />
<br />
"Well can't you just take it and get through the month of difficulty to benefit the rest of us," he said.<br />
<br />
My head started to swell, and I felt the muscles around my eyes contract and tighten up. I said to myself, 'He isn't addressing my issues, he is just trying to silence me, asking me to be nice and quiet for awhile.'<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">The Nodes</span></b><br />
When I was in therapy, I would sometimes bring into the session my experiences. Often this would be around how somebody said something, pretty innocent, but that it affected me. This could happen at work, and I would fade a away for a little while, withdraw from others, and be distracted from tasks. My head pounded. I felt angry. I wanted to go back and stop that particular conversation from ever having happened, and for having unleashed this massive pressure on me.<br />
<br />
My therapist called this 'The Nodes.' These were pockets of memories in our psyche that were raw and unprocessed, the actual memories. Unknowingly in our daily life, a comment, a gesture, or even a particular reaction could tap into these memories. They could be good or bad.<br />
<br />
In my case, I felt like these memories, these nodes, were bad. Tapping into them meant unleashing a sleeping monster from its cave. Then I would have to spend the rest of the day, into the night putting this monster into its cave.<br />
<br />
We explored these memories in therapy, but since the psyche is so fast, we couldn't go in and address every single memory, reprocessing them and, taking out their sting, instead we developed tools for how I could confront this situation on my own.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Being Silenced</span></b><br />
In my meeting with my friend, I felt like he wan't interested in going very far in discussing this political issue and hearing my side. He closed his virtual door on this matter. Without looking into what motivated him to be on his guard, the feeling of being silenced had deeper repercussions. This feeling tapped into a node, a strong memory, or just the feelings around that memory, and I felt myself start to withdraw.<br />
<br />
I couldn't really see the actual events present in the node memory, rather I just felt the sensations associated with that period. Allowing myself to explore this further, I realized that this brought me back when I was younger and growing up in my parent's house. There was a minefield of topics that had to be avoided for fear of setting off my mother on a tirade. The most evident of these topics was the hoarded state of the house. I did not perceive our house as a hoard. It was very cluttered. We didn't bring in friends, guests, or strangers. However I was lead to believe that this was not a permanent state, but a work in progress. Somehow when my parents got enough time together, they fully intended to sort through stuff and get everything in order. Of course that never happened..<br />
<br />
I was young, and I did have time on my hands - summer vacation, weekends, coming home early from school. So I could do something. Sometimes I would ask, "Can I organize the stuff in the basement?" or "Can I bring the stuff lining the hall and the stairs downstairs?" or worst of all "Do we need all this stuff, there is a lot of old magazines and newspapers?"<br />
<br />
These questions would set my mother off in a tirade. There was no discussing. She would throw every epithet at me, laying the blame fully upon me for that state of the house. Things were like this because I did not let them do things, or that I got in the way or disturbed them. I was chased an yelled at. I could either go outside until things calmed down, or board myself up in my room.<br />
<br />
Other consequences of this explosion would be things like "Nobody will have dinner tonight! I hope you're happy with yourself! You've upset me, so I don't feel like cooking!"<br />
(This of course was the regular situation, since she had resigned from cooking years earlier).<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Scars</span></b><br />
The scars from these events became the packets of memories buried in my psyche, trapped in these nodes. The lessons from these experiences were that I should be careful how I express myself, and how I ask questions, not knowing what dark creature this can bring out in others.<br />
<br />
To this day, I tend to be perceived as shy and on the quiet side. I am careful with my interactions, trying not to step on toes, I present my opinions not as challenges or attacks but as a perspective or point of view.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Tools for Node Encounters</span></b><br />
I don't enjoy these ambushes and surprise attacks. Where I simply got together for a bit to eat and I come out feeling wounded, licking my wounds. However I don't withdraw.<br />
<br />
On the one hand, I can try to understand my friend, his history and personal issues that drive him and his reaction to put up a wall is about him, not me.<br />
<br />
Yet more importantly, it is the tools that I have in my arsenal for handling the impact of nodes that gets me through this and makes me stronger.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">EMDR</span></b><br />
One of the most valuable techniques I encountered in therapy was EMDR (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eye_movement_desensitization_and_reprocessing" target="_blank">Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing</a>). I don't know how it works, but it helps to extract me from the affects of these memories, reprocess them, and filter out the sting of these memories.<br />
<br />
I practiced this in therapy, and subsequently learned to implement this on my own, using the same technique I did with the therapist. It put the brakes on my mind ruminating about the past, and allowed me to come out of the withdrawn state, putting the memories and the trigger into proper perspective.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Life Challenges</span></b><br />
I know that these encounters will continue throughout my life. I do not avoid them or worry, nor do I lament my predicament. I know that even though I spent a lot of time in therapy and worked through my issues, my upbringing and experiences will continue to creep into my current life. The issue is not about 'why did this happen to me' but rather about 'how can I put this into perspective, and not let this impact progress in my life'Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-91243047978294616332013-06-29T13:33:00.002-07:002016-05-27T05:15:48.694-07:00Lazy or mental illnessMy wife is very sensitive about discussing my parents predicament. If I mention something new that they said to me, she immediately jumps in saying, "See they aren't mentally ill, their house is just a mess because they are lazy." She insists on this repeatedly. Her understanding is that if my parents were true hoarders, and this was out of a mental illness, then they would not be embarrassed to have visitors come into their house and simply not perceive the mess as others do.<br />
<br />
"But they don't let anyone in! They are embarrassed! They know what they are doing."<br />
<br />
I am not sure why it is so important for my wife to feel that the state of my parent's house comes out of laziness rather than a hoarding mental illness, but I feel otherwise.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Different Natures of Hoarding</span></b><br />
I have a friend that is a social worker. He has been in a number of homes that are suffering severe hoarding. In one, as he talked to the hoarder, a cockroach ran across the piles of stuff on the table. He clearly saw it, and appeared surprised, while the person who lived there completely ignored the cockroach as thought it weren't even there.<br />
<br />
This is the kind of mental state that my wife seems to be suggesting she would expect my parents to suffer from, interacting normal with everybody while remaining oblivious to the hoard.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">The Overwhelming Nature of the Hoard</span></b><br />
I believe the mental illness of hoarding manifests itself in my parents in a different way. They know that their house is a mess, and are not happy to show it to others. Yet they do not want to discuss it, leaving the mess as the elephant in the room. They create stories and excuses around the nature of the hoard, saying things like "I am working on it, just leave me alone." or "If you wouldn't bother us so much, then maybe we could get things done."<br />
<br />
I see their mental state as that they know the hoard is there, but that they simple don't feel that they have any control over it. The hoard lives with them, but overwhelms them. Maybe even on some level they would like it to go away, but realize that it is not some external force that has taken up residence in their home, but something that comes from within that they lack the power to control.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Assessment</span></b><br />
They are not lazy. They are overwhelmed by an illness that they neither want to admit to nor ask for help for how to deal with. So they remain stuck in the vicious cycle that this conditions wreaks upon their lives.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-13897181504311421452013-06-29T13:16:00.000-07:002016-05-27T05:15:48.499-07:00What did I do to heal myselfStarted in my 20's when I heard that my 19 year old sister had gotten pregnant from a colleague that she worked with at KMart. My parents were angry and I felt like I had to do something to keep the family together. I didn't know what to do or say. So I turned to a therapist, hoping to explain the urgency of the situation and get some professional insight for what steps I should take to bring the family together.<br />
<br />
Needless to say, the therapist recognized that the issue wasn't about me helping my parents or sorting out things for my sister, but about the nature of the role I perceived for myself in the family .Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-34127294860658162782013-05-13T04:34:00.000-07:002016-05-27T05:15:48.583-07:00Just Watching<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
We took your parents to lunch at the deli yesterday. We enjoyed being with them. They told us that they plan to move to live with your sister and her family. It will be a big change for them to give up their home after so many years but they know they need help. Assisted living is costly about $5000 a month to start. I think they are ready for the change as they realize they need help. They said at home they eat TV dinners every day and are not getting the nutrition they need is my assumption. Your mother trembles much more than she did when we last saw her. She is taking pills for it but they do not seem to help her. Your dad seems to be doing fairly well but he has memory problems at times too. He takes sleeping pills every night he said so that makes him drowsy and sleep during the day too so he drinks coffee to keep him awake. Growing older is difficult as I saw with my parents. I do not know your sister, but I think that being around family and getting proper nutrition and having someone to monitor their medical appointments and medications will be good for them.</blockquote>
This was a note I received recently from a cousin. She has no idea about my parents hoarding behavior, nor about their overall behavior as parents towards their children. I feel like if I brought those issues up now with this cousin, it would probably be disregarded as just another symptom of getting old, or that I am just exaggerating.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Frustration</span></b><br />
It is frustrating for me to hear others describe to me who my parents are. They make so many assumptions, like "I think they are ready for the change as they realize they need help." They have no idea what kind of lifestyle my parents built for themselves. They don't know my sister or her family. So others make assumptions about things they don't understand the details of, like saying "Growing older is difficult as I saw with my parents."<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Denial </span></b><br />
One of the most memorable lines of American Beauty was "Never underestimate the power of denial." I feel like when talking about hoarders, the first obstacle is getting passed the denial that everyone else expresses about this. They say that I probably imagine it much worse than it was, or it couldn't really be that bad, or maybe this is a degenerative behavior and they were fine earlier. I feel that vibe coming across in this note. She says, "We enjoyed being with them. They told us that they plan to move to live with your sister Beth and her family."<br />
<br />
No where was it discussed the fate of the house that they live in now. Of course the cousin doesn't know that the house is a hoard that my parents couldn't possibly get into order before their move. The cousin couldn't possibly know that children were raised in that hoard and yelled at by suggesting something be done to clean it up. "You wanna know why this house is a mess! It's because of you and you're always bothering us."<br />
<br />
No the cousin doesn't know about that.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Family</span></b><br />
The cousin makes other assumptions about my parents plan to move in with my sister, painting a romantic warm, inviting image. She says, "I do not know your sister, but I think that being around family and getting proper nutrition and having someone to monitor their medical appointments and medications will be good for them."<br />
<br />
A few months ago, my sister visited my parents to initiate her first plan - to clean up the hoard and move in. Her pilot trip lasted 3 weeks and she never returned. After I talked to my parents about the experience.<br />
<br />
"So how was my sister's visit?" I asked.<br />
"Oh it was interesting." my mother said.<br />
"I bet you enjoyed having the baby over."<br />
"She was heavy."<br />
"But I bet she smiled a lot?"<br />
"Not so much. It was hard."<br />
"Really? It must have been nice having her there with you, a nice change."<br />
"A nice change? It was hell!" my mother said.<br />
"Why?"<br />
"How would you like being yelled at old the time, do this, do that, move this, move that."<br />
<br />
Then looking back, at the last time my parents went to visit my sister, two years ago, they didn't share much about the experience. I had asked them about how was their visit to my sister. "I don't want to talk about it," my father said, "it is like walking on <a href="http://steppingoutofthefog.blogspot.co.il/2013/04/on-thin-ice.html" target="_blank">thin ice</a> being with her. Everything upsets her."<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Watching</span></b><br />
So in reading my cousin's note, I contemplated how to respond. Should I lash out and send pictures of the hoard, sharing my personal experiences? Should I fill her in on more details about our family life.<br />
<br />
I decided to respond with a short note. "Thanks, keep me updated."<br />
<br />
Despite my parents experiences with my sister, they have made their decision to go live with her. Despite my more intimate knowledge about my parents, I watch helplessly as this cousin laments their predicament, and their discomfort. So there is little that I can do to affect these people's outlook, and I will leave them with that. Now I will be on the sidelines, <a href="http://steppingoutofthefog.blogspot.co.il/2013/03/i-didnt-see-this-happening.html" target="_blank">just watching</a>.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-89495247616742890322013-05-09T06:40:00.000-07:002013-05-09T06:40:00.341-07:00Sabotaging Mental HealthSaw this article on Fox News <a href="http://www.foxnews.com/health/2013/05/07/12-ways-sabotage-our-mental-health/?intcmp=features" target="_blank"><i>12 ways we sabotage our mental health</i></a><br />
<br />
One of the points<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Ignoring clutter</b>Why it's harmful: Even if your pack-rat tendencies don't rise to the level of hoarding, unchecked clutter in your home can be a subtle source of psychological distress. "Clutter makes us feel weighed down, both literally and figuratively," said Dawn Buse, a health psychologist at Montefiore Medical Center, in New York City. "It has been shown to be related to depression, anxiety, and even weight gain."</blockquote>
So if this says something about the mental state of a normal person that ignores clutter, what does that say about the mental state of the hoarder?<br />
<br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-64658970279387344352013-05-06T15:01:00.000-07:002016-05-27T05:15:48.665-07:00The Cover Up Grows"I had the dream again," my wife told me.<br />
<br />
She related how she had a similar dream several times already. In her dream, her brother informs her that he will be travelling, and one of the stops will be my parent's town. He is excited to have a place that he can crash at. Yet my wife keeps trying to persuade him to find a different home, and even town to go to. He doesn't relent and insists on going to my parent's home, not understanding what the big deal is about.<br />
<br />
I asked my wife what she thought it meant.<br />
"I feel like I alone am privy to your family story, your secret, and I have withheld these details from my own family. They have no idea, and just assume that your parents live in a nice home, and maybe have a cleaner come by once a week to help. However I am covering up. I feel compelled to cover up. I don't think others will understand you, how you grew up, and how you maintain a relationship with your parents."<br />
<br />
It's true.<br />
I've been involved in the cover up all my life, only now revealing the details to the world. The cover up grows.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-52715029251924920732013-05-02T06:40:00.000-07:002016-05-27T05:15:48.647-07:00Not Getting Anywhere<br />
Last year, my parents said that they sent a package to me and that I should keep my eyes alert.<br />
The package didn't get anywhere, and I am still waiting.<br />
<br />
Upon further examination, my father explained that he had not listed the country properly, and instead set up the address American style, so that the zip code would be read as a<i> US zip code</i>. I don't know why. I've lived abroad for almost 20 years and all of his packages had arrived before.<br />
<br />
Following this, my parents finally told me about the blackouts that my father had experienced. He couldn't remember anything and was asking about several of his cousins, and how they were doing. My mother had to explain to him that those cousins had died a few years ago.<br />
<br />
My mother said that she was making an appointment to see their doctor. I had a encouraged them to consider trying to living near me over the years. Their answer always was, "No we have our doctor that knows us."<br />
<br />
"Did you make the appointment with your doctor?" I asked my mother.<br />
"No, not yet. But I will soon," she explained, "The problem is that our doctor is retiring. We will need to find a new a doctor, and just start all over."<br />
<br />
One thing I can say about my parents is that they are not very forward about information. For example, they never told me directly that my sister had another baby (or that she got married), even though they had personally visited my sister and seen the baby.<br />
<br />
"So how will you get to see the doctor?" I asked.<br />
"Well I don't want your father to drive in his condition, and I stopped driving a few years ago. So we will take a bus or a cab," my mother continued. They don't have any other family in town. Few friends.<br />
<br />
I've always known that they would get old, and dreaded thinking about how to work it out logistically, living abroad and helping them to sort things out. I only with they would be more cooperative, especially on the telephone.<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-39099934491039937742013-04-30T06:12:00.000-07:002016-05-27T05:15:48.597-07:00Conversation Circles<br />
<i>A call to my parents last year.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
My father answered.<br />
"Ok I want to tell you what happened."<br />
"What?"<br />
"The washing machine broke."<br />
"Oh," I said, "How is mom doing, how is her foot."<br />
He handed the phone to my mom to talk.<br />
"Hello," she said.<br />
"Hello how are you doing? How is your foot?"<br />
According to what she told her cousin that had recently been in town, she was incapacitated and unable to walk.<br />
"I'm doing OK."<br />
"Wow it was quite an event, that your cousin called you."<br />
"Yes it was," she said.<br />
"Do you have any idea why? What motivated him to just call you out of the blue?"<br />
According to her cousin, he was in town so he had hoped they could get together.<br />
"I don't know," she said, "I don't have any idea why he called now."<br />
"Ok," I said, "well you took quite a spill sometime back. How is your foot doing?"<br />
"All right, it hurts a bit."<br />
"Did the doctor suggest to do anything special, like, uh, an operation?"<br />
She had told her cousin when he called that she should have an operation, but didn't want to.<br />
"No, just exercise."<br />
"Oh, good, and you are exercising," I asked.<br />
"Well I go for walks."<br />
"That's what the doctor said to do?"<br />
"I don't know," she said.<br />
"What do you do? The doctor must have given some instructions right?"<br />
"Well, I guess so, I just can't remember."<br />
"Surely he must have written it down."<br />
"Yes, he did."<br />
"So did you read the doctor's instructions?"<br />
"No."<br />
"Why not?"<br />
"I don't want to."<br />
"Don't you want to get better?"<br />
"Yes, that's why I tell your father to take me to a health club, so I can workout there."<br />
"And he doesn't take you?"<br />
"That's right."<br />
"Well do you want me to talk to him?"<br />
"OK."<br />
She hands the phone to my father.<br />
"Mom says she wants to go to a health club."<br />
"This is the first I've heard of this."<br />
"Really?"<br />
"She has fantasies," he said, "now let me tell you about what happened to the washing machine."<br />
He proceeded to describe how their 6 year old washing machine broke down. They got a quote from the repairman for $800 to fix it.<br />
But, he found a deal on a new washing machine for $1100, which he took. "And I bought a five year warranty!"<br />
"Great," I said, "so do you think Mom's foot will be ok?"<br />
"I don't know, talk to her."<br />
The conversation just went in circles, without anyone really connecting.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-56314500247543270772013-04-25T06:07:00.001-07:002013-04-25T06:07:02.255-07:00The Legacy We Leave<br />
The mess in my parent's house is more of a symptom of their emotional condition rather than the main problem. The house can be cleaned, but its the people that need to want to help themselves. Unfortunately both of my parents carry deep emotional scars that they have not known how to deal with. These issues have burdened them their entire lives, and enslaved them to their traumas. The mess and clutter they have collected is a reaction to these demons - perhaps even a form of control. Yet they are stuck in this cycle and unable to extract themselves from this existence.<br />
<br />
If anyone needs to be felt sorry for in this story, it is my parents. My sister and I survived living in their world and successfully built new, and very different lives, challenging the affects of this upbringing. My parents on the other hand continue to sacrifice their lives to issues that they have not worked out and allow a psychological condition to direct their decisions. It is not so much a question about whether my parents want to clean up the house, but that they simply can't. The time required to clean up the house would have to be proceeded by intense clinical therapy to unknot all their issues that have burdened them for the better part of their lives. So, like the old saying goes - You Can't Teach an Old Dog New Tricks - and with people into their seventh decade, it is very hard try to show them a new way.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Feeling Sorry</span></b><br />
I was angry and frustrated by this situation, but now I really do feel sorry for my parents. They have missed out on so much, and continue to suffer. They are lost in an endless loop, unable to connect to a reality that could be better for them. The lack of love and warmth that they missed out on while growing up has stifled them emotionally, leaving them sunk in a quicksand of irrational behavior. The tragedy of it all is that these things are treatable.<br />
<br />
The matter of the state of the house started soon after we moved in back in 1979, when boxes cluttered the house. For years, as children, we were told 'We're still moving in'. Years later, when the clutter continued and grew worse, we were actually blamed for interfering. With graduation and moving on, we were told to leave them alone and that we (the children) could clean up the house when they die.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">A Sad Tragedy</span></b><br />
Did that make me mad? Of course, but now I see their lives as a sad tragedy. Due to emotional issues which they felt and saw as being beyond their control they have sacrificed their well being, relationships, family, community, and other connections on an alter of frenetic self-preservation. In this light, I hope you can see, that the small strides my father makes in cleaning up are actually huge steps against a tidal wave of emotional baggage that he will never unpack.<br />
<br />
We leave legacies for our children. Some are heirlooms, or great stories, others are debts and other burdens. The house is my parents legacy - a great monument to the power of childhood scars and emotional handicaps. The house will be cleaned up - some day - but more importantly the psychological issues that created the condition in the house will not pass on. My children will not know about the house, and will enjoy a new legacy.<br />
<br />
(This was part of a letter I wrote to my parent's neighbor - Nov, 2009)<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-37024977016403090362013-04-16T08:39:00.002-07:002016-05-27T05:15:48.590-07:00Still In the News<br />
Talked to my parents this week.<br />
"I was reading some old newspapers yesterday," my father said, mentioning some old news events.<br />
I checked after and he was referring to events from 2000. So he must be reading newspapers that are over 13 years old.<br />
<br />
This goes back to issues that I faced growing up. No newspaper was supposed to go out until he had finished readying it. When I was young, I would ask my mother about this and she would say, "Sometimes when he is at work at sneak out a few to the garbage."<br />
It was so frustrating and ridiculous that between all of us, nobody could say that this was wrong and needed to stop. As time went by, not only did newspapers pile up, but also mail.<br />
<br />
This isn't the only matter they avoid.<br />
My parents are also sidestepping the issue of their own care. When I visited them last, my father finally gave in and granted that they were not functioning well on their own anymore. Despite asking me to look into independent care facilities, they have pushed off any information I provided, saying they would prefer go and live with my sister (in another state).<br />
In talking to them, my folks don't bring up the issue of their care at all. So just before hanging up, I asked.<br />
"We are going to visit your sister," he says, "but she has a lot of fixing up first."<br />
<br />
I grew up with them making excuses. The house was cluttered and we didn't have visitors over, and they would repeatedly say, "the house is still cluttered because we are still moving in."<br />
We had moved in 1979. That excuse persisted till I went to university.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-88519392570135238482013-04-09T00:22:00.000-07:002016-05-27T05:15:48.682-07:00Who I AmThese are some insights that I share with a friend in May 2004. I had not heard of the term hoarding, and didn't know that being a Child of Hoarders was a phenomena and others experienced similar circumstances. I guess it is important for me to look back at these reflections to validate my own memories and feelings, and to understand that this was more than just a messy house.<br />
<br />
<b>This picture is part of who I am. </b><br />
The chaos that
you see in the picture is not the stuff that makes
me into a screwed up person, but rather gives me my
strength.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEvZofw-ByXM6-TXssk2EwK6Bj8p8i4i8rBYo5w6g-qNCbRsbUKTh71BHY_t4p_MnNMk0FICPzN9Nyw66YaHNC4_hj86M8UHlRGMdRP0IZ9G5LHJhu1UCKnut1CQCPCeVA_WjyIzoGfvFi/s1600/kitchen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEvZofw-ByXM6-TXssk2EwK6Bj8p8i4i8rBYo5w6g-qNCbRsbUKTh71BHY_t4p_MnNMk0FICPzN9Nyw66YaHNC4_hj86M8UHlRGMdRP0IZ9G5LHJhu1UCKnut1CQCPCeVA_WjyIzoGfvFi/s320/kitchen.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Not only did I grow up in this messed up
environment but I was also told:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>"Our house looks like this because YOU don't let us
take care of anything, YOU are always bothering us." </li>
<li>"Don't touch anything, don't move anything.
Everything is exactly where it needs to be." </li>
</ul>
<br />
These were very difficult things to deal with,
because it meant as much as you looked around, you
felt helpless. This helplessness strengthened me
with the determination that I am going to set out on
my own path and not be limited by this environment.
This contributed to me moving out at college, and
continuing moving from there. I would tell myself
that my future is far away.
This also gave me a profound need to know truth, and
to measure my reality, for obviously everything I
was being told was out of distortion and denial.
This made me extremely honest with myself and
strengthened personal resolve.<br />
<br />
Much of what is in this picture is hidden to the
rest of the world. Neighbors don't see inside and
nobody else from the family sees inside. Only myself
and my sister have been aware of this situation.
Even when I went in on one occasion with my wife, my mother
immediately started explaining to my wife, "Our
house looks like this because we don't have time to
deal with things. I try to get his father to
work with me, but he is always busy. And my daughter always
needs our help with her girls."<br />
<br />
Now I see with clarity that these images are really
very graphic representations of these people's
psychological state - burdened, and in a state of
disregard.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-49713078243652526962013-04-01T16:06:00.002-07:002016-05-27T05:15:48.625-07:00On Thin Ice<br />
I feel frustrated and angry, and frustrated.<br />
<br />
I have tried, literally for years, to walk the delicate balance of staying in touch with my sister and not upsetting her. Living abroad far away from her, I would send tasty presents for holidays - even though sometimes I was literally chasing her, as she was changing addresses faster than I could know where to ship.<br />
I would fall into traps when talking with her sometimes. "Yeah Mom and Dad don't even listen to me when I talk to them," she would say to me.<br />
"I know what you mean," I would say reassuring, "I get the same thing."<br />
"Look at how you have no respect!" she would shoot back, "They are old, OK! They don't go as fast as they used to, try to be more understanding!"<br />
"OK, but I," I would try to explain.<br />
"Don't start, again," she says, "you have nothing to complain about."<br />
My wife has advised me not to discuss too much when I talk to my sister, just listen, say I love you and that's it.<br />
<br />
In hoarding families, many children of hoarders describe the children falling into different categories: The Golden Child and the other child. The Golden Child is perceived as being the preferred child to the parents, creating resentment in the other child. Sometimes the golden one grows up with an over absorbed sense of self. This takes the heat and focus away from the hoarders, pitting the children against each other.<br />
<br />
I believe in our family dynamics my parents crowned my as The Golden Child, leaving my sister eternally resentful. Despite my efforts to reach out to her, and shake this title from my head, she has persisted in venting her anger towards me.<br />
<br />
After my parents last visit to her (last year), my father made it quite obvious that he was not interested in talking about my sister with me. In telephone conversations, he kept recounting the weather, and how he mowed the lawn for his Japanese neighbor. I brought the conversation back to how was the visit to my sister. "I don't want to talk about it," he said, "it is like walking on thin ice being with her. Everything upsets her."<br />
<br />
Then last year, my sister threw a new zinger that she had been pregnant last year, and had a baby. I tried to be happy and calm, but also said I would have liked to have heard earlier.<br />
"You don't know how stressful it is to talk to you," she said.<br />
<br />
My parents who had visited her when she was pregnant, never mentioned that detail either, making me feel like they were either in on the family conspiracy or are in denial and wanted to avoid that issue altogether.<br />
<br />
I keep flipping this incident around because now my parents have declared they plan to permanently move in with my sister in the coming months, and they dance around that topic too, not being too clear on how they see that working out considering their past experiences.<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-51426536301953036352013-03-26T14:29:00.000-07:002016-05-27T05:15:48.633-07:00Where is All Your StuffI am in the basement in my parent's house. The light is on, and I notice how much space there is around me. The piles of boxes and stuff is gone. I turn to my mother, "Where is all your stuff?" She just shrugs. I never imagined seeing the floor again in the basement.<br />
<br />
I wake up.<br />
<br />
This is the fifth dream I've had where I back my parent's hoarded home. Each time I am usually in the basement and it is cleaned out to varying degrees. One time the whole basement was empty, with just some dust and marks on the carpet. Another time, most of the clutter is still there but a few sections have been cleared.<br />
<br />
I told my wife about these dreams. "Maybe it means that you have finally cleared the burden of your parent's house from your mind."<br />
<br />
I called my parents again as I dutifully do every week. My father said that he had good news. After having episodes of dementia he went in for tests. "They all came back fine," he said. So there is another reason for his dementia?<br />
<br />
He continued. "What do you do in this company? You are the founder? A software developer?"<br />
"No," I remind him, "I work in marketing. I update the website."<br />
"Oh, all right."<br />
"What's up with your plans to go live with my sister?"<br />
"We haven't heard from her for over a week. She's doing refurbishing on the place she bought. It will probably take awhile," he said, "We were looking at The Summit. Did you find out how much it costs?"<br />
Another independent living arrangement? "No I didn't find out. I stopped looking into independent living options. You told me that you were going to live with my sister, and you weren't interested."<br />
"Oh, ok," he replied, "Andrew has called your mother again."<br />
Andrew was a sales rep from an organization to help elderly people find independent living accommodations. "What did he want. After you said you planned to go live with my sister, I told him you were no longer interested in looking into independent living options in your area."<br />
"He just called us up and spoke to your mother, asking her when she was ready for someone to come over to take our stuff out to sell."<br />
"To take all your stuff?" I ask.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-51927081820165095312013-03-13T00:19:00.000-07:002016-05-27T05:15:48.643-07:00Maybe They're Just LazyMy parents had come to terms that a condo wasn't going to work, that just moving to another place wouldn't make it easier for them to function as they got older. So my father had given me a pullout from the newspaper of assisted care facilities for me to look into. Not a day later, by Saturday night he was asking me if I had answers and if I had looked into things.<br />
"No," I said, "I did not. It's the weekend and nobody would be there. I need some time and space, probably when I get home and have an internet connection I can send emails and get answers."<br />
<br />
A couple days later, I landed at home and the next night started doing research. I called all the places from the newspaper insert and did some internet research, giving me a pretty good idea of prices and services available in such facilities. They are pricey, starting at around $3200 and going up to over $5K a month.<br />
<br />
I sent him the information. "This is what you want, right?" I confirmed with him.<br />
"Yes."<br />
I offered him to hookup with a free organization that would take him to see some assisted living/independent living facilities first hand. He accepted.<br />
My parents went to visit several independent living facilities.<br />
After I talked to them about this, and their options.<br />
"We're going to live with your sister. She is going to set us up a room in the house she is moving into."<br />
"So you don't need anymore information from me?"<br />
"No."<br />
"Ok so you will help her out with the new place?"<br />
"Yes, we'll help her out. We'll pay for groceries. We could even help out if her husband gets laid off or loses his job. But she says that she doesn't want money from us."<br />
He didn't give any hint to details of how this plan would unfold and what would become of the hoard house.<br />
<br />
I came into the house and told my wife I just got off the phone with my parents. "They're going to live with my sister. They plan to leave in 2 months."<br />
"What about the veteran's funding for the independent living?"<br />
"They don't want to hear anymore about it. My dad just changes the subject, saying he needs to do some cleaning."<br />
"Well then maybe is really aware of the mess in the house, and this hoarding behavior isn't a mental illness, maybe they're just lazy," my wife said.<br />
I looked at her, and for a moment I felt completely alone, like no one understands.<br />
"We'd like to think that way, but that's just not the case. I'm sorry but it's just not like that. They're behavior and thinking is beyond rational, and maybe they say things like 'I have to clean' but that is just to confuse us, to throw us off their trail and make us think just that, that maybe they are really aware of horrendous conditions they are living in and it is just a matter of laziness that it stays that way. No, sorry, that's not the case."<br />
My wife wanted to discuss this further. I guess I could have let it drift, and agreed, but even if I wasn't understood, I couldn't let go of what I knew and had experienced.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-40103944564560944932013-03-12T14:22:00.000-07:002016-05-27T05:15:48.605-07:00I Didn't See This HappeningHaving spent a short week with my parents and seeing my father in a full on dementia state for one night, I was concerned about his health and ability to perform. He was also. In fact, my presence testifying to his condition further strengthened what my mother had been reporting about him.<br />
Walking around in the mall with him, I confronted him about this issue. "What are you going to do?"<br />
"Well your mother thinks we should move into a condo."<br />
I felt like hitting my head against the wall. "What will that do? Are you both able to get by on your own without any outside assistance?"<br />
He looked back at me, "Well what do you want us to do?"<br />
I told him that he needed to start being serious and to consider where things were going.<br />
The next day he came to me.<br />
"We need help," he said. "We can't manage on own anymore."<br />
"Well what do you want me to do? Do you want to go live with my sister?"<br />
My sister was in the process of closing a deal on a home, as she called it 'a fixer upper', and in the remodelling process would set up an extra room where my parents could stay.<br />
They shrugged at this. "Live in a room? Taking away space from her daughters? I don't even think I ever met her new husband. Plus your sister can be a very difficult person to deal with sometimes."<br />
"And you'd be completely, absolutely completely, dependent upon her."<br />
My father came back with an insert from a local newspaper, with a pull out section focusing on Assisted Living communities. "Maybe you can check on these?"<br />
He was anxious. It was Friday afternoon. I went away for Friday night/Saturday. By Saturday night, I came back.<br />
"Well did you have a chance to look into those places?"<br />
I looked at him askance. "Are you serious? These places aren't open for calls on Saturday." So I promised to look into this. The next day I was on a plane and my short visit to my parents was over, but he continued to want to make sure that I would be looking into this.<br />
<br />
By the time my plane touched down and I was back home, they called. "We are not doing so good, so we will probably go live with your sister."<br />
"What if you don't like it?"<br />
"I don't know. What choice do we have?"<br />
I was thrown for a loop. The day before they asked me to look into different home care and assisted care situations, then they just gave that up.<br />
Instilled with the tendency to be an ever-helpful son, I couldn't just leave this like so, I wanted to present them with choices. I looked up all the home care and assisted living options that were on the pullout section they gave me, contacting them about prices and details about their services and facilities. My parents don't have a computer, so I couldn't email them the information. Instead I emailled it to a UPS office center for them to pick up the print out.<br />
I asked him about his finances.<br />
"Well I keep a large amount of money in a checking account."<br />
"But that is low interest, what about moving it to a COD or Money Market to get better returns?"<br />
"I am concerned about if the bank goes bankrupt and the Federal Insurance doesn't cover it?"<br />
"But you could possibly make more interest and not cut into your principle? What about spacing out COD's?"<br />
"Sounds too hard to organize. If something should happen to us, you would never find the money."<br />
"So, Dad, is this the information that you were interested in,that you wanted me to look up?"<br />
"I don't know if I need that. I'll have to look into it."<br />
"But you did give me that pullout and ask me to look into care options."<br />
"Your sister will be really bummed out if we don't come to live with her. She is really looking forward to taking care of us."<br />
"She was just at your place for three weeks, and she didn't contact the doctor once. Instead she had you cleaning up a cluttered garage and installed a new garage door opener. She has a little baby, two teenagers, and has only been married a year. I hope she has time for you."<br />
"I don't know," he sighed, "I just didn't see this happening."<br />
"I saw this 10 years ago."<br />
"Really? What signs did you see?"<br />
"Nothing. I knew that in 10 years you would be 10 years older and likely more susceptible to conditions that affect old people. You just never wanted to consider that things might change."<br />
I kick myself sometimes and ask myself why I let myself get pulled in. Why can't I just step back? Let them make their own decisions, even if after they will be complaining or calling out to me for more help. It will just be an endless spin - reach out, I work, they pull away, I am frustrated.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-33750258264887993652013-03-11T09:37:00.000-07:002016-05-27T05:15:48.579-07:00Coming Back to My Real HomeSeeing my wife and kids at the airport, I knew I was back, and put my parent's home far away.<br />
My wife smelled 'that smell' on the clothes I brought. She made me keep them inAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3310331335831478851.post-30499765531010321992013-03-10T09:36:00.000-07:002016-05-27T05:15:48.555-07:00Condo Is Not a Good IdeaParents decide that condo is not a good idea and will not achieve anything. Want help fast to go somewhere else.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08923302809457613986noreply@blogger.com0