Whoa, too close to home baby! This book reveals secrets my family spent 2 generations disguising, and now, with grandkids in play, we may be foisting this problem onto the next genealogical branch.
Embarrassment?
Anguish.
Down-shot, slant-cast eyes--don’t, don’t look at me.
Shameface.
Uncomfortable stammer; no, make that painful acting.
Rituals. Save, save, save.
Followed by--always--rage: “DON’T...WANT TO...TALK.”
Disbelief, ignorance, disgrace, cruelty.
.................*help*
What is HAPPENING to this family?
Hoarding, a type of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), has finally arrived. Books are being published, research is being focused, 2 separate TV series are currently being aired, and the public has latched on to this compulsion as the newest, morbidly interesting human problem discussed around the water cooler at work. It seems like our cultural dialogue moves from one mental disorder to another, each exposed by emerging research. A disorder is canonized by medical journals, people are diagnosed in greater numbers, medicine is passed by the FDA, and then during all this, the disorder enters the lexicon, passes the veil of stigma, and becomes an almost hip thing to talk about. Hoarding, yes. It’s always been here, but safe to say, I think it has arrived. In other words, you probably know someone who has it. And now you’re comfortable to call it by name. This has happened in the past with depression in the 70’s, ADD and OCD in the 80’s, ADHD and autism in the 90’s, PTSD in the 00s, and now hoarding. Each was privately suffered in guilt, and at some point the secret became evanescent, and finally people are being, if not helped, then at least identified and diagnosed.
But let me tell you. Despite the graphic pictures of the homes, basements, or garages of people who suffer from hoarding, just because you don’t, it doesn’t make this a very real, painful, and pathological condition. And like other mental disorders, it affects more than one person. Usually it involves the painful, time-consuming cover-up of most members of the family in collusion. It becomes more than one person’s disorder. And, because unlike other disorders that are contained within the cranium, this disorder spills out into the home--physically--and encroaches and soon buries everyone else.
So, my close-ish relative. Over the years, this person’s extended family has shunted the hoarding to certain places and funneled it into certain categories, but it’s taken reserves of manpower and spirit to live with it daily. You can’t control it; you can only contain it, as might a dike to water. Don’t leave this person alone. It will pour into spaces that are actually livable. A wasted life? No. A whole different perspective about the material world? Absolutely. Their brain comprehends material possession in an entirely different way than you or me. It’s not a need to buy new things or expensive things (it’s not hyper-consumerism). That would imply a rational--though misplaced--conscious decision-making process. Instead, hoarding is an absurd, faultless, uncontrollable desire to have something in disproportion to how it will ultimately be used. Sadly, we know the desire will never be satisfied. This is not living in debt; this is living in what almost always becomes squalor.
There are some neat statistics in the book about Hoarders, and you’d be shocked to discover what percentage of Americans have this penchant to hoard. Stuff: Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things does a good job tracing and hypothesizing these urges back to their atavistic roots by looking at other species that hoard. There’s evidence of genetic encoding for storing (hoarding), and a biological reason to engorge yourself with different tools, foods, and necessities in times of scarcity. Perhaps the brain evolved to gather, originally hardwired to hoard, but retooled and replaced by more expressive and useful chromosomal base pairs, yet in a percentage of people the vestigial urge is unlocked and overpowers the restraints built into the helix over millions of years.
Hoarding makes for such good shock value on TV, luridly observing how people have converted their homes into animal trails between the towering mounds of junk; how possessions in the bedroom or attic become layered over the years like deposits of alluvial sediment; how people no longer sleep in their beds, but in some jiggered nest in the house, slowly shrinking; how entire rooms are eventually stoppered by items of ostensible necessity--like used paper cups, junk mail, unfitted clothing, odd lumber, things found along the road, broken stuff, (what’s this--a freaking rat--are you kidding me?), piles and piles and stacks of the shit. Boy, that sure looks better on camera than PTSD or autism. It’s an unfortunate illness, hoarding, because you can see it, you don’t have to visualize it. You can invade someone’s space and see the hoarding in fascinating aggregate, a continuum from clean and ordered to grossly unsanitary. The cameras will expose it, and the hoarders are always astonished and embarrassed that it got this bad, not unlike the disbelief when you see medical pictures of a South American woman with a 200 pound goiter going about business as if this is the way of life.
Stuff: Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things is a book that subdivides hoarding into more specific characteristics. There are broad categories to this illness, but like the human brain, there are as many different ways and reasons to hoard as there are hoarders, sprinkled, as I know they are, all among your suburbs and exurbs and inner cities and foreign countries even though you don’t know it. There are people who hoard junk, who hoard clothes, who hoard cats, food, and information. There are people who hoard anything that can be reused, fixed, or converted. There are people who hoard memories, for love, to be noticed. There are people who hoard feelings, and dog fur, and your trash bags. The book uses a delicate hand but does not shy from revealing the illness with brute force. My relative, you guessed it, fits in between several of the categories. That’s probably how it works with most hoarders. Taking pieces and parts from the chapters, I construct traits that explain what is going on with my relative.
The book provides some good--but not extensive--psychological causes for the general categories of hoarding. It also lists things and attitudes by which to deal with hoarders. This is a good preliminary book of an illness we’re going to hear much about in the coming years. It’s a vicious, entropic disease no less intractable than alcoholism, drug abuse, or depression. Hoarders suffer painfully--physically and emotionally. They don’t want to hoard, but they can’t help it, and they’re surrounded by it. The book also provides some testimonial from actual hoarders that the author has followed for years. What I would like to have seen, although it would probably only be conjecture at this point, is an analysis on whether people today, with the richest source of goods available ever and myriad ways to get them, are yet experiencing new and additional manifestations of an illness that has been around for--really--ever. Is it like obesity, which increases when the culture has more leisure time and less labor to perform? Is there a link between availability of ‘stuff’ and its resultant hoarding? Or does the sickness exist in some relatively stable and predictable percentage in the genetic pool?
I highly recommend this book if you know someone with hoarding tendencies--you can finally discover what they’ve wanted to tell you, but lacked the courage to do so. Otherwise, it’s a good read if you can’t get enough of hoarding on TV. 3.5 stars.
New words: folie à deux,