Thoughts on Clutter

Last night I stayed up late, enjoying some absolutely quiet time to myself. Ah, bliss... no one asked a single thing of me. No noise that I, myself, did not make. A small bowl of ice cream (shhhhh, don't tell). And reading. Yes, my addiction that I love. To read, acquire information, to remotely see so much of the world.

Anyway, one of the places I love to go to check out someone's version of reality is The Straight Dope. It's peopled by all manner of folk but the general attitude is apparent in the board's slogan: FIGHTING IGNORANCE SINCE 1973 (IT'S TAKING LONGER THAN WE THOUGHT). Haha. Ain't that a hoot? Because everyone but us in the know is grossly ignorant, right? Ironic.

Anyway, they often have threads called "ask the....", in which someone who has had a strange job or unusual past is available to answer any and all questions we've always wanted (or never knew we wanted) to ask.

Last night I found one entitled "Ask the Adult Child of a Hoarder/Clutterer".

There are fives pages of posts in this thread, at 50 posts per page, of people who either knew someone who has lived/is living in squalor or was jolted into reality from reading the thread that they were headed that way themselves.

It was touching and shocking to read about so many homes filled with so many inappropriately loved things, lives taken over by stuff to the exclusion of their children or health, families burdened by having to take care of the stuff leftover from a lifetime of hoarding and filth. I've seen shocking photos before (warning: the links to photos take a long time to download, even with DSL, and some photos of extremely unhealthy living conditions may be disturbing) but I had no idea that this problem was so very common. There are entire companies who specialize in cleaning up the homes of those with this problem.

So, last night, after reading just a few posts, I ran to do my small pile of dinner dishes. I looked around, just to make sure that all I had in my living room was "lived in" caliber mess (one stuffed animal, a couple of papers on the floor, the remote displaced to the couch) and I breathed a sigh of relief that I had done a massive dump'n'straighten in the girls' room yesterday.

But what really struck me today, when I went back and read a few more posts was the following:

Posted by lisacurl

- a point about perfectionism - this ties into the feeling of being overwhelmed by the size of the job of uncluttering or cleaning up. I am a huge perfectionist and I got it from my mother, who is a bazillion times worse than me. I think a big part of her problem was feeling that she didn't have the time or resourses (mental or physical) to clean up "properly", so she couldn't bother to start.

Posted by cwthree

I'll second this. It seemed very strange to me the first time it was explained to me - how can someone demand perfection but insist on living in a mess like that? But "perfect" doesn't just apply to the end result. It applies to the process as well.

cwPartner [name for cwthree's live-in significant other] is a clutterer and a hoarder (not nearly as bad as some of the descriptions here, but historically irrational regarding the acquisition and keeping of stuff which is of no actual use). When he does try to clean up, it can be absolutely painful to watch. He has to determine the absolutely best strategy for dealing with a mess, then he has to lay out all of the items to be dealt with, then he has to examine and reminisce over each item, and only then can he seriously consider disposing of it or putting it away (in the absolutely best possible manner). When I try to help, he tells me I can't because he knows exactly how he wants to do it.Basically, he has a very hard time with the concept of "good enough." For instance, we had a couple years' worth of old newspapers. I wanted to cut to the chase and throw them away. But to cwPartner, old newspapers can't just go in the trash, because it would be better (in this case, less wasteful) to recycle them. But we don't have curbside recycling, so we had to take the newspapers somewhere. The recycling center wasn't open when we had the time to go there, so we needed another option. Fine - his workplace has recycling bins. But that was imperfect, because he felt that bringing all of those newspapers at once would be an imposition on their recycling program. On the other hand, bringing a week's worth of newspaper in every couple of days wasn't perfect either, because
it would "take too long." Net result? The piles stayed where they were, and continued to grow as newer newspapers were added.

And in that last paragraph I saw myself. I have three boxes of books and two garbage bags of things that have sat there for a couple of months now because I can't bear to put them in the garbage but also can't be bothered to dispose of them in the "best" way. I don't want to drive to a book seller with three kids during the week, havn't remembered on weekends, and it didn't occur to me until last night to just find a library and donate them but it's an abomination to THROW AWAY books.

Now I understand why FlyLady tells people to just throw stuff away.

Another example is with spending money. I havn't bought macaroni and cheese in months. Why? Because I can never remember if it's a better price at Costco or the Commissary. I finally bought some off-brand over at a place called The Grocery Outlet but it was so disgusting and frustrating to make (different measurements for the sauce than Kraft) that I just chalked it up to a bad macaroni and cheese experience and have since not felt like buying it at all anyway. All because I couldn't find the BEST price and therefore couldn't bring myself to buy any at all.

I didn't realize that people would actually go to therapy for such a thing. Perfectaplegic, indeed. Compulsively finding the BEST way to do stuff which consumes so much of our time and relationships that we can't even have healthy relationships or enjoy simple leisure time... ack!! I do that!! Well, I'm a lot better than I used to be. But here I am, angsting all over my blog again, ruminating over my failings and that I can't do things the BEST way all the time! Irony, again.

I get rid of stuff all the time in one way or another. But something about living with other people has made it very hard to do so regularly since it isn't all my stuff. I can't just throw away Man's pile of papers he hasn't touched in months. Or his college text books that he'll never use again (thanks to Man though, for finally agreeing to let go of them!).

As I gradually come to understand my home and self, and bit by bit claim mastery over it and self, things are starting to slowly come together. Small solutions start making more sense and now even the overall vision is something I'm starting to see.

-sigh- Now I just need to figure out what I need in order to feel absolute peace in my home. What sort of home would I just be able to love and feel welcome in?