My breathing grows shallow as a familiar dread twists in my gut. A sharp pain stabs at the left ventricle of my heart. The haphazard stacks of things, the disorder, the smell of dust and decay…it’s too much like the house I grew up in, the house I’m still desperately trying to scrub from my skin. Please, don’t let this be what I think it is…
I believe her mother has OCD… Specifically the form that manifests in hoarding… Evidently she has residual trauma from her childhood being full of absolute horror… The horror being total wreckage and mess… Yikes
