This is the only thing I've posted to the Medium site. I think about writing more, but I'm not sure how personal I want to be outside of this site which isn't likely to be read by anyone. So I post here.

It starts out small. You don’t suspect at all. One day you just have a bit more stuff than space, more stuff than time or energy. So you make a pile of it. Maybe on the seat of a chair, a stack on a shelf, a junk drawer in the kitchen. A few things tossed on your bed while you tidy up the rest of the room.

Hoarding comes along easy.

That pile of stuff on the chair doesn't get dealt with and next time you want to use the chair the stuff is in the way. A minor annoyance so you stash it somewhere else. A temporary fix, right?

Sometimes you may get caught up and avoid the start of a hoard. Usually you don’t. I don’t. I have a stash of unfinished work on nearly every surface available in my bedroom, most of the floor space is taken up with bags of stuff to do. I also have books, some tidy and organized on their shelves and some in stacks on the floor, or in bags. The non-fiction books are things I wanted to do, the person I thought I could be.

The rest of the house is tidy. Right now. I don’t live alone half the year. But, that’s part of the problem too. She is a clutter freak. Anything left out bothers her. I like having my coffee pot and the coffee grinder out on the kitchen counter. Why not, I use them every day at least once. I clean up any spilled coffee grounds or drips from the pot. There is no mess, just two pieces of kitchen gadgets out in open space. It took time but I’m now allowed to have them out.

Anything else I want to keep must be stashed away. This means adding it to other stashes, stacks and piles of stuff in my room. Stuff gets lost in there. It is a jungle of piles and stacks and stashes of assorted stuff I need or at least don’t want to have taken, thrown out, or lost.

Ironic that I keep things here to avoid losing them when I've long gotten past the point of being able to keep track and find much any more. But, its not forgotten. Things my (well intentioned) family have thrown away, I remember. Some more than others, of course.

Once, they threw away almost almost everything when I was away for a couple of weeks. I came back to an almost empty room. It was nice to see the floor but, there was nothing left of me in there. Privacy invaded. It was like I had died and they got rid of all my stuff along with burying my body. I felt like a walking corpse for a long time.

Hoarding happens when you need to hold on to things and run out of better options, or space.

Don’t think hoarding, keeping things, is taking the easy way out. Living this way is frustrating, for me more than anyone else. They may think whatever they like and they believe the problem is me. It is and yet it isn't just me.

A lot of the stuff here are things other people want me to do for them. Tasks and jobs and demands I have not found time or energy to do. Do you know the old joke about a round tuit? Look that one up. If you ever do find that legendary round tuit please send it to me when you’re done tuiting.

I need to say no but that isn't so simple. I won’t get into all of that. It’s an exercise in frustration to explain my need to be perfect and fix everything, do too much and prove myself to anyone who isn't inside my own head. So, just know that it is very hard for me to say no to family and friends who ask for simple, small favours. I add their projects, errands, lists, problems, and assorted other things to my hoard of to-do.

I don’t think anyone outside of hoarders can understand the pressure of having too much stuff around them. It weighs on you, it pushes against you and it limits you mentally, emotionally and physically too. I hate having just a small path trough my bedroom from the door to the bed with the computer desk being along that same path. I can’t put my clean clothes away because I can’t reach the closet. I can’t start tidying up because I no longer know where to begin. It’s all a chain. One thing leads to another and another. To pull one string means pulling another and finding a place to put the first string before I can pull the next string. But, there is no more room to put anything. A pile falls over and that is a frustrating and hopeless feeling.

I toss a pile of papers and old photos onto another stack of papers piled up on the floor. Another task demanded and no time or energy to do it. Another weight added to the pressure. Another layer added to the stuff I already can’t deal with! It lands atop the other stuff and I’m angry because this was demanded of me and I know I can’t do more and this is just more of more.

People think a hoarder is an awful thing: dirty, miserable, derelict. I’m not any of those things. Not ever miserable. I live my life around this hoard and I try to function in spite of it all. I can’t let go and give up the things in this hoard which I actually value. I don’t want to give up on the person I thought I could be, the things I thought I would do. I can’t give up on the things I said I would do, even the things I never actually agreed to do. I feel pressure and guilt and anger. It’s depressing, oppressing.

A simple solution is to deal with some small part of it each day.

Seems simple enough. Until you start somewhere and get caught up in one thing for too long. One thing leads to another problem when you don’t have enough space to work in. Too many things are buried and it is frustrating to know they are there but out of reach. To begin finding what I need causes the moving of the hoard which means the things which were on top (the things I could locate) will now be moved and become the things I can’t find.

Hoarding is a trap.

During half the year when I live here alone I take a few days and then begin moving things out of my space and into another spare room. I get some clearance, some room to move and work. At first the release of having space and feeling hope again is just nice in itself. I haven’t thrown anything away but I have space again. Having space makes me feel I have some control, and can actually do something about all of it.

I make some progress. Last time I began with clothes. I sorted out a lot of clothes I haven’t worn in years and those which I won't be wearing now that I’m no longer 20-something. I had them all ready to go to the Salvation Army thrift store. I felt good thinking some other woman would be able to wear those clothes. But, I got caught up in road blocks.

I was stopped from giving away the clothes because other people thought I shouldn't just give them away. “You can’t just give away something that still has value! Some day you may fit into that again. That dress used to look so great on you”.

Isn't that funny? I thought I was the hoarder.