Not A Sign of Genius

“A cluttered desk is a sign of genius.”

Our aging adult population is inundated with issues: health, interpersonal, familial, financial and legal.

However, perhaps one of the least-discussed is hoarding.

This condition often reveals itself once an elderly loved one struggles to function in his/her daily life. Keeping a house in order becomes impossible.

This is my mother’s situation. But it also confronts how hoarding doesn’t just pop up out of nowhere. Instead, it has existed the entire time; it just went undiagnosed.

The “Messy” House:

My mother was challenged by housekeeping; our home was always unkempt. Arts and crafts projects, boxes, piles of newspapers and magazines filled its rooms. The house was disorganized; and it also was often dirty. Layers of dust and grime covered the furniture.

And, not surprisingly, this was an issue with my dad. Already an abusive personality, this cluttered house was his frequent rage flashpoint. He often complained and, in an effort to make his point, threw away stuff himself. Mom pleaded for him not to do so.

It was to no avail. Mom’s original birth certificate and numerous personal mementos were among those discarded casualties. The more he tried to throw away something, the more tightly she clung to keeping it. Mom hoarded.

And, it has only been years later where I learned clutter didn’t just start with my mother.

Rather, her maternal grandmother also had similar co-existing compulsions affecting her life. Food and weight struggles led to her morbid obesity. And she also had a “messy house.” But my great grandmother took things one step further; she was an animal hoarder. She “collected” Blue Persian cats. Therefore, the ammonia stench was overwhelming in her residence.

I bring up this family history to illustrate how hoarding can often be an intergenerational problem.

It can exist by itself or be accompanied by such conditions as depression, addiction and obsessive-compulsive disorders. Certain members of my family battle with food, drug and alcohol addictions, while compulsively doing laundry and filling their front yards with broken vehicles and appliances. My mother’s mother had severe obsessive- compulsive disorder. She rearranged the furniture at all hours of the day and night.

The “Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 5th edition” classifies hoarding disorder as a mental illness. Often, it is underdiagnosed.

And Mom’s condition and lack of diagnosis further exacerbated other painful situations.

The Explosion:

One of the most devastating was my dad’s death. The hoarding bomb exploded during my mother’s grief.

After surviving an abusive 30 year marriage to my dad, Mom underestimated these issues and that of her own grief. She frequently shared with me her happy fantasy about that day when he finally died, freeing us. However, she was completely unprepared for the actual event itself.

And, of course, she did not deal with her churning emotions. The constant verbal and emotional abuse imprisoned her. Not surprisingly, his abuse also spread to the financial realm as well. She did not- and could not- do anything without my dad’s controlling permission.

Therefore, this heavily motivated Mom’s grief response: obsessive shopping sprees and increased hoarding from those sprees.

Her psyche screamed, “Now I’m free; no one will ever tell me what to do again!” The attitude showed in how she lived, what she bought and what she did with the house and any “outsider’s” access to it.

But, the problem was she viewed my husband and me amongst those threatening outsiders. When we came back for my dad’s funeral, she did not let us get past the kitchen. She was embarrassed. That embarrassment was familiar territory. But what was unfamiliar was the isolating spirit with which she demanded her independence. She tried to convince everyone she had things under control. She was doing that with us in the kitchen.

So, we reluctantly decided not to press the issue. We hoped Mom’s grief would go thorough its stages and eventually lessen.

But, it didn’t.

Instead, the grief roared with spending binges in the nearby town, multiple catalog orders and accumulating everything she felt she had been deprived of while my dad was alive. Clothes, shoes, bedding, household items and art supplies were just a few of the purchases she made. She was stockpiling. And no one could tell her to stop.

But it was more than stuff for stuff’s sake. It was her vague definition of “freedom.”

She didn’t have to answer to anyone- and she liked it that way.

Still, despite her determined efforts, she could not continue to have it STAY that way...

The Discovery:

Just six years later, Mom had a health crisis which brought her desperation into full view.

In the summer of 2009, Mom had a stroke which left her unable to walk. Forget about caring for herself; forget about being independent. Life changed, forcing her to reside in a care facility.

And, for the first time, we were able to enter the house, with no restrictions on its access. It was devastating.

Every room was packed with boxes, bags, newspapers and garbage. We couldn’t see or walk on the floor. We had to step on or climb over piles of garbage, paintings and newspapers.

I also saw proof of my mother’s unrealized dreams. Boxes and bags were filled with paint brushes, blank canvases and art books, for the paintings she was going to paint “someday.”

The hoarded house was just a symptom; Mom was struggling for hope, struggling to realize her unfulfilled dreams:

This challenging wish fulfillment is now what I have to deal with concerning my mother. I have had many delicate conversations with her about her inability to remain in that house.

I have also gone several rounds with her about the necessary cleanup required of it, without her presence determining what is done. Yes, Mom initially fought me on discarding anything. She has tried to insist on things not changing; but life has not cooperated. Repeatedly, as respectfully as I can muster, I have told her everything cannot be kept. Things come and things go. She doesn’t like that and tries, all the more, to cling to whatever she can.

And so, even though now, she resides within the limited space of her room and its attached bathroom, she squirrels away assorted papers, junk mail and wadded Kleenex. She insists she will need/use them “someday.”

However, she doesn’t. Stuff, instead, just accumulates.

And, as if cleaning the house was not enough of a project, other life changes have, again, spotlighted Mom’s compulsion.

The Move and Something Found:

In the summer of 2016, Mom’s care facility relocated to another building.

So, that meant my husband and I were responsible for packing and storing her stuff, as well as setting up her new room. This was the perfect time to edit what had been collected for the past seven years.

Within her dresser drawers, we found a lot of crumbled paper, outdated catalogs, birthday and Christmas cards. That was not surprising. Mom being the “packrat” she was, never threw anything away. At first, we thought combing through her possessions, especially if most of them were paper, was a bit obsessive. That was, however, until we discovered a different kind of paper... money!

That’s right, we found $326 of it.

Now, to fully appreciate this find, you also have to be clued in on this money’s backstory. During her seven year stay at the care facility, Mom often insisted her money (and assorted items like hair rollers and fingernail clippers) were stolen. Several times, she stated, in a low sinister voice, “there’s thie-e-e-e-ves here.” And we’d bring this matter up at care conferences, asking for help from social services. The nursing staff would go on hunting expeditions which easily turned up the rollers and clippers.

But, because it was against policy for staff to rummage through a resident’s drawers, the money went undiscovered. That is, until her move.

As we were packing her possessions, amongst various papers and cards, a little white envelope fell. In it were two crisp one hundred dollar bills. Okay. We’re alert now. Maybe there is more moolah to be found.

If you’re good at math, you know the answer to that question. On a separate packing occasion, in yet another white envelope, stuffed in a drawer, there was the remaining $126.

While Mom was thrilled to rediscover this missing money, there was still no connection of how her hoarding behavior led to this situation. Instead, she insisted she didn’t have any issue with clutter, while maintaining her argument to hold onto everything. She’s convinced she’ll need these items “someday.”

Independence: The Struggle for Control:

I attempt to understand and deal with her in hoarding’s reality. I can tick off Mom in the check list. Perhaps, you can do the same with your loved one.

Do you see your situation here?

• Inability to throw away possessions
• Severe anxiety when attempting to discard items
• Great difficulty categorizing or organizing possessions
• Indecision about what to keep or where to put things
• Distress, such as feeling overwhelmed or embarrassed by possessions
• Suspicion of other people touching items
• Obsessive thoughts and actions: fear of running out of an item or of needing it in the future; checking the trash for accidentally discarded objects
• Functional impairments, including loss of living space, social isolation, family or marital discord, financial difficulties, health hazards

“Hoarding: The Basics, Understanding Hoarding,” Anxiety and Depression Association of America; www.adaa.org

Used with permission.

 

Mom is unlikely to change. Her desire for autonomy is reflected in her attempts at control. She no longer calls the shots concerning her ability to walk, her diet or her living accommodations. So, the hoarding takes on an importance of that much-coveted independence.

Our strategy, therefore, is to limit its negative consequences.

Her care facility and its limited space, makes this more doable than when she had an eleven room house at her disposal.

She still has clutter in her room. But here’s a major difference.

Now, the facility’s staff knows about her tendencies; they monitor what’s accumulating. They have Mom’s reluctant permission to help her tidy things up when it becomes unruly. She cannot deny the facility’s stringent policies concerning fire hazards, health and safety risks which no longer only affect her. She cannot hoard like she used to. She cannot isolate either.

Where once, she could hole herself up in the house, having no interaction with people for days, now, her daily care ensures she is not practicing unsafe habits like she once did. But that doesn’t stop her from trying.

There is an ongoing conversation and negotiation with her. We allow certain things to acquire space in her room. But if they aren’t used, their necessity is discussed and modified. Her living situation is healthier and safer.

Hoarding awareness concerning an elderly loved one is half the battle. You are not alone in your caregiving situation.

This knowledge is power.

Be empowered!

Copyright © 2021 by Sheryle Cruse