My Life With OCD
If you're uncertain as to what OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) and Hoarding are exactly, I refer you to the following OCD and Hoarding links. (just click on the words, respectively)
OCD has been with me for much of my life, although my family refuses to acknowledge the fact that I have been diagnosed with it. Were they to examine the past more carefully, they would see the truth in the diagnosis. As a child, my side of the room, which I shared with my older sister, was ALWAYS in disarray. Even SHE cannot dispute this!
When I moved to California to attend CSU, Northridge, my dorm room wasn't too badly cluttered, but it was there. Pictures of me taken in my room show some clutter on the counter/desk meant for studying. I also did not own many possessions at this point, nor did I have my own money to freely purchase what I wanted. When I became an RA (resident advisor) in another dormitory, my clutter began to build. By this time, I worked part time as a sign language interpreter for deaf students and staff. At the point in time I lost my "RA-ship", due to floundering grades caused by or causing a bout of deep depression (as well as an attempted suicide), the floor in my room was not visible at all. The rest of the suite, which I shared with another RA was in decent order.
From there, I moved into the home of a woman who was in need of live-in child care. My room quickly filled with things I couldn't throw away.
Next were shared abodes with two different groups of people in the same townhouse community. In both residences, my room looked like a tornado tore through and an earthquake shook the rest into extreme disarray. From there, I moved into the home of a single woman, her two children and her live-in boyfriend. More of the same. Any efforts I had made at cleaning up, failed miserably and left me feeling like a total failure myself, as well as deeply ashamed.
Onto my own one bedroom apt...same thing, only more so. At one point, I had friends coming in from NY to visit. Naturally, I "cleaned up", which entailed stuffing the crap I'd collected into bags and stuffing those into the closet, and into numerous "junk drawers". Though I felt guilty for how I cleaned up, I felt better that my apartment actually looked nice...didn't stay that way long, however.
Next stop, another couple renting out a room in their house. She, being a total neat freak, did NOT appreciate my mess and told me so, repeatedly. She was right, unfortunately, this only made things worse. More shame and guilt, by now mixed with anger, at myself and at the woman I was renting from.
I moved a few more times, now storing stuff in storage, due to not having an actual room, but living on a friend's couch and suffering from another round of very deep depression.
I had a friend who's boyfriend had a room to rent, so there I went...along with more clutter, even with most of my stuff in storage. They moved and I, with them...taking the mess as we went. Finding myself pregnant and the boyfriend not wanting me as a roommate any more, I was allowed to stay with a friend from Renaissance Faire, who was in charge of the Interpreters for the Deaf and their (our) schedules. Once that became strained, due to limited space (it was a one bedroom apartment and she had two insane cats, plus she kept talking about "our" baby even though we were just friends), I was permitted to move, rent free and not exactly legit, into one of the many vacant apartments in her building as the landlady was a friend of ours. I had meager belongings with the majority of my things in storage now, yet, the clutter started to build. From there, the father of my child decided he would "do the right thing" and we'd move to Ventura County where I had no friends or family other than his step-mother and his father, step-sister and her boyfriend. We moved my things out of storage and into a vacant mobile home on his father's work site. Some of it came to the apartment and filled the little available space. While I was in the hospital recovering from the cesarean delivery of my daughter, my boyfriend's step-sister and step-mother cleaned the apartment for us. They neatly stacked boxes out of the way, moving the boxes to the wall and more to the unit where the rest of my stuff was. G-D Bless them and their good intentions. Nevertheless, and sadly, clutter sprouted as if from nowhere.
After taking more abuse from the boyfriend/father of my daughter, I moved out to a trailer park. My daughter and I lived in a cramped, rented trailer...you guessed it...with the clutter building once again. (do you SEE a pattern yet?) My depression, reared its ugly head again and more insidiously and my ex was not visiting my daughter on any regular basis. My family and I concurred that it would be best for my daughter and me if we moved back to NY. Most of my stuff ended up shipped back East by the friends I had lived on the couch of, as well as my over-stuffed car. Obviously, the clutter followed, but not before I created new clutter in my mother/brother's home and then in my daughter's and my own apartment.
Our apartment became overflowing with "stuff", to the point of the one guy I dated (or my father and step-mother) calling Child Protective Services to report the condition of our place. It was so severe that it was declared a fire hazard and my daughter was removed from my custody on the grounds of "neglect", even though she was well fed, loved, well dressed and clean, both she and her clothes (except for her winter coat which my father and step-mother expected to be clean at all times to the point of washing it when she'd visit them. Three to four weeks between washings were not sufficient to them, obviously). At this time, I was court appointed to get therapy/counseling, which I did. It is also at this time that I was diagnosed with OCD, although I was asked by the diagnosing Dr. (Psychologist) as to why I don't "just clean up"! Obviously, his comprehension of Hoarding wasn't very deep. I didn't go to him for very long, though I kept going to the Therapist who was more understanding of the condition.
Well, that's more than enough catharsis for the time being.
OCD has been with me for much of my life, although my family refuses to acknowledge the fact that I have been diagnosed with it. Were they to examine the past more carefully, they would see the truth in the diagnosis. As a child, my side of the room, which I shared with my older sister, was ALWAYS in disarray. Even SHE cannot dispute this!
When I moved to California to attend CSU, Northridge, my dorm room wasn't too badly cluttered, but it was there. Pictures of me taken in my room show some clutter on the counter/desk meant for studying. I also did not own many possessions at this point, nor did I have my own money to freely purchase what I wanted. When I became an RA (resident advisor) in another dormitory, my clutter began to build. By this time, I worked part time as a sign language interpreter for deaf students and staff. At the point in time I lost my "RA-ship", due to floundering grades caused by or causing a bout of deep depression (as well as an attempted suicide), the floor in my room was not visible at all. The rest of the suite, which I shared with another RA was in decent order.
From there, I moved into the home of a woman who was in need of live-in child care. My room quickly filled with things I couldn't throw away.
Next were shared abodes with two different groups of people in the same townhouse community. In both residences, my room looked like a tornado tore through and an earthquake shook the rest into extreme disarray. From there, I moved into the home of a single woman, her two children and her live-in boyfriend. More of the same. Any efforts I had made at cleaning up, failed miserably and left me feeling like a total failure myself, as well as deeply ashamed.
Onto my own one bedroom apt...same thing, only more so. At one point, I had friends coming in from NY to visit. Naturally, I "cleaned up", which entailed stuffing the crap I'd collected into bags and stuffing those into the closet, and into numerous "junk drawers". Though I felt guilty for how I cleaned up, I felt better that my apartment actually looked nice...didn't stay that way long, however.
Next stop, another couple renting out a room in their house. She, being a total neat freak, did NOT appreciate my mess and told me so, repeatedly. She was right, unfortunately, this only made things worse. More shame and guilt, by now mixed with anger, at myself and at the woman I was renting from.
I moved a few more times, now storing stuff in storage, due to not having an actual room, but living on a friend's couch and suffering from another round of very deep depression.
I had a friend who's boyfriend had a room to rent, so there I went...along with more clutter, even with most of my stuff in storage. They moved and I, with them...taking the mess as we went. Finding myself pregnant and the boyfriend not wanting me as a roommate any more, I was allowed to stay with a friend from Renaissance Faire, who was in charge of the Interpreters for the Deaf and their (our) schedules. Once that became strained, due to limited space (it was a one bedroom apartment and she had two insane cats, plus she kept talking about "our" baby even though we were just friends), I was permitted to move, rent free and not exactly legit, into one of the many vacant apartments in her building as the landlady was a friend of ours. I had meager belongings with the majority of my things in storage now, yet, the clutter started to build. From there, the father of my child decided he would "do the right thing" and we'd move to Ventura County where I had no friends or family other than his step-mother and his father, step-sister and her boyfriend. We moved my things out of storage and into a vacant mobile home on his father's work site. Some of it came to the apartment and filled the little available space. While I was in the hospital recovering from the cesarean delivery of my daughter, my boyfriend's step-sister and step-mother cleaned the apartment for us. They neatly stacked boxes out of the way, moving the boxes to the wall and more to the unit where the rest of my stuff was. G-D Bless them and their good intentions. Nevertheless, and sadly, clutter sprouted as if from nowhere.
After taking more abuse from the boyfriend/father of my daughter, I moved out to a trailer park. My daughter and I lived in a cramped, rented trailer...you guessed it...with the clutter building once again. (do you SEE a pattern yet?) My depression, reared its ugly head again and more insidiously and my ex was not visiting my daughter on any regular basis. My family and I concurred that it would be best for my daughter and me if we moved back to NY. Most of my stuff ended up shipped back East by the friends I had lived on the couch of, as well as my over-stuffed car. Obviously, the clutter followed, but not before I created new clutter in my mother/brother's home and then in my daughter's and my own apartment.
Our apartment became overflowing with "stuff", to the point of the one guy I dated (or my father and step-mother) calling Child Protective Services to report the condition of our place. It was so severe that it was declared a fire hazard and my daughter was removed from my custody on the grounds of "neglect", even though she was well fed, loved, well dressed and clean, both she and her clothes (except for her winter coat which my father and step-mother expected to be clean at all times to the point of washing it when she'd visit them. Three to four weeks between washings were not sufficient to them, obviously). At this time, I was court appointed to get therapy/counseling, which I did. It is also at this time that I was diagnosed with OCD, although I was asked by the diagnosing Dr. (Psychologist) as to why I don't "just clean up"! Obviously, his comprehension of Hoarding wasn't very deep. I didn't go to him for very long, though I kept going to the Therapist who was more understanding of the condition.
Well, that's more than enough catharsis for the time being.
posted by Xintara | 10/05/2004 06:25:00 AM
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