becuma
New Member
Joined: October 2008
Posts: 8
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Post by becuma on Oct 21, 2008 13:34:28 GMT -5
Hi everyone,
Maybe I should have started here, but this is kind of scary! My "life" in a nutshell (big nut though):
I think I was born messy, in a very clean farmhouse. My elders would despair and occasionally burn/chuck my belongings to teach me a lesson. There was violence as well. Hatred ensued; I moved out when I was 16. I got an apartment which started quite nice, mainly because I didn't own anything, but that was soon "remedied". I was absolutely dreadful thinking back to it: cat turds and rat droppings... The worst time was when I ripped out the kitchen in a fit of DIY, but lost momentum before the new one was in. No sink, no hot water, all that. On top of that, I forgot a pan and acidentally set fire to the remaining parts. This all got sorted before I sold up and moved to England with a newly acquired husband. A decade of dilapidated rented houses (15 of them!), chronic illness and domestic violence followed, whilst he was having affairs and working his way up the academic ladder.
One day I came back home from a holiday and realised that no matter how tiring the travelling had been, it was as nothing compared to how tired I felt looking at the mess I'd left behind. Unwashed clothes strewn everywhere, boxes in front of the boxes in front of the furniture... My first small step was incredibly small: instead of washing when something was needed, I turned it around to washing as soon as something had been discarded. There were still piles, but now they were clean & fresh and ready to wear!
When I bought my first house (thanks to a landlord who'd "forgotten" to pay his mortgage with our rent and so got foreclosed by the bank) it was bigger than anything I'd lived in before, so all my stuff fitted quite nicely. Still too much stuff though but it didn't look so bad. And the "archaeology" thing never quite went away -- because of moving so often and sometimes at very short notice causing unsystematic packing, things wouldn't necessarily get unpacked, so to find something it was key to remember what year was in which box...
Then I sold that house and bought an even bigger one. All the rooms were so sparse they echoed. At which point my parents decided I might as well become a repository for their unwanted antiques. Oh well... Bring it on.
The domestic violence thing ended when I'd finally had enough. Tough decision since he was the bread winner and I the stay-at-home mother, but enough was enough and we went to a women's refuge to await social housing. Then my daughter went to her father for a weekend visit. This was the last time I've ever seen her because he left the country and soon after I lost my legal aid.
This is five years ago. The first couple of months of being back home on my own I did nothing but cleaning until my hands bled, then I started to dare leave the house again. I left my daughter's bedroom as it was (they'd moved in hurry so it looked like she'd just stepped out); basically closed the door on it trying to forget it was there. Then we got a lodger for this room, and the lodger together with my boyfriend boxed the entire contents up and filled a small room with it. There it now sits, along with all the other stuff of hers I amassed over the years like drawings, craft projects, cards, toys, books, clothes, you name it. I don't think I've ever thrown any of it away, ever!
And this here now is my current problem. I can't bear to part with it -- it's all I have left. (That sounds absolutely pathetic put like that, but there you have it.) But I also can't bear to have it around anymore. Things = memories = guilt. If I had been "normal" to start with, I would not even have had half of all this stuff. Just knowing it is there, behind that door, seems to be like carrying the weight of it around.
I'm going through it at the moment, but it seems this mountain will not shrink, I feel overwhelmed. I end up drinking coffee and pairing socks instead!
Well there you have it, seventeen previews, prevarications and heart palpitations later, a very thin slice of "me", the most useless person ever.
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Blackswan
Banned
Joined: October 2008
Posts: 6,388
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Post by Blackswan on Oct 21, 2008 13:56:15 GMT -5
Welcome to the board!
Your story about your daughter makes me want to cry. I feel so sad...It almost makes me glad my husband abandoned us. Him taking my son was a fear I had back when we first divorced, and the thought terrorized me, so I can only imagine how awful it must be for it to really happen with no way of getting the child back.
As far as not knowing where to start, or feeling guilty about getting rid of things, you will probably have to do what most of us have been doing, cleaning one little area at a time. Maybe you can find some meaningful charities to give some of the good stuff too.
I am sure the others will have a lot of great advice for you too, some of them have gone through similar issues with being attached to items.
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Post by notsomessyshell on Oct 21, 2008 15:09:27 GMT -5
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Post by messymimi on Oct 21, 2008 16:34:10 GMT -5
Welcome, becuma  .
Your story has me grieved also. I can see how you are torn between holding on to everything that is her, and feeling that it is too hard to have it there. As you go through the items, take the time to grieve, and select the most precious things to keep.
It seems like it will take forever, but you will get through it all.
messymimi
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Post by AnnieOkie on Oct 21, 2008 20:55:02 GMT -5
I'll be honest and say I have thought about this with much sorrow. I am so sorry this has happened to you. If it were me, I would be unable to throw any of it out. She may return to you someday and you may want to show these things to her. I would find a way to store them somehow. Put them away (out of sight so you are not constantly troubled by them) until you can deal with them later, or go through them with her someday. I don't know how much room you have, but I don't think now is the time to rid yourself of these things. I hope this is good advice. If anything it is from the heart and honestly given from one mother to another. I wish you only the best. |
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Post by crazycatlady on Oct 21, 2008 21:41:42 GMT -5
Welcome, Becuma. I'm so glad that you found us. Like AnnieOkie, my feelings tell me that if I were in your situation, I would simply keep all my daughter's stuff, and never throw a bit of it away.
But my experience tells me that people are resilitant creatures, and will heal and grow despite the most awful setbacks. The fact that you posted that the stuff feels like a mountain that is weighing you down says that you are ready. Either ready to begin to think about letting some of it go, or maybe even ready to let some of it go.
My heart goes out to you. You have just found the most lovely (although messy) group of people! I hope that the support and love that you find here gives you the strength to declutter your home!
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becuma
New Member
Joined: October 2008
Posts: 8
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Post by becuma on Oct 22, 2008 7:06:33 GMT -5
A reply which is also Way Too Long
Thank you so much for all your lovely words -- I was petrified to check what replies there might have been, nearly never came back here! But all good stuff, wow you lot are kind. (I'll never fit in here :-)).
My boyfriend already suggested putting everything in the attic. This means putting floorboards or something up there, and then putting everything in small boxes that will fit through the access hole.
I have always kept the attic empty. Drawn a psychological line there. It's a huge space. If I start putting things there, more will surely follow. Then it will literally sit on top of me.
Will she ever want any of it again? I'm thinking of the stuff my own mother kept: some schoolwork, reel-to-real tapes with me singing, drawings, some toys, matinee jackets. It means nothing to me.
We have visitors with young children sometimes, and to keep them entertained I usually bring out some of my daughter's old toys. After all, all age groups are catered for... And then try very hard to remain sociable and not to cry my eyes out ("how dare those filthy little hands sully all these precious bits of plastic" -- this is making the donation-to-charity idea quite difficult).
A few years ago my mother came over to "help" and she managed to get all my daughter's clothes and shoes mixed up with mine (same size, easily done I suppose). I locked the wardrobes and bought new clothes. Now I have gone through most of those, and have five big boxes of clothes and two bags of shoes ready for donation.
The baby clothes are harder. I have tried to throw them before, but woke up in the middle of the night screaming & bathing in sweat and having to drag it all back in again.
I try not to talk about (my feelings about) my daughter, because I can tell that most people think there must be a good reason I lost her, that I must have been a terrible mother. One of the traps my ex set up for me was not being allowed to speak to anyone, so I have no friends from the past who can vouch for my amazing mothering skills :-p. Sometimes I wonder whether maybe I'm remembering everything wrong. Then again I was awarded full custody a year earlier despite a barrage of accusations like "the house is a skip", "there's cat crap in the bathroom", leading to an endless stream of social workers.
I feel sad for my parents, they lost their only grandchild, but my mother never lets me forget it, and when she gets drunk, she blames me openly and harshly, as do her friends. No support there but lots of guilt. My father is more of a "life goes on" type. I can go on about it to him every now and again, but I can see that it pains him too. I have no siblings, or other family for that matter.
My life is a terrible mess. I need to get a job, we are drowning in poverty, but my CV stinks: I quit my degree (maths and computing) after the first year (two decades ago) and been a full-time mother until five years ago. And I have this stupid illness -- attributed by some to pregnancy. I worked part-time at a computer shop but they closed. I have telephone phobia. I'm not good with people. In fact, I'm terrified of them, and it seems I have that tattooed on my forehead by the way I usually get walked over.
Done yakking now, god forbid I'll start crying or something equally self-pitying/pathetic/weak. Blackswan, messyshellby, messymimi, AnnieOkie, crazycatlady, thank you again for being so kind.
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Post by razy on Oct 22, 2008 18:36:31 GMT -5
Hi Becuma
First of all I love your avatar!
Secondly we do not have many rules around here but one is we try not to be to hard on others or OURSELVES.
Your introduction and reply are not too long. Posts can be as long as you want them to be. People can choose to read or nor to read, this is not your responsibility.
I feel very sad that you refer to yourself as the 'most useless person ever'. What I see is a woman who has had very horrible things happen to her and survived - with a sense of humour!
Sorting through your daughters things will be a difficult thing to do. It just will be. It is not wrong to feel.
It sounds to me like you need a place to talk about your daughter where you won't be judged. Counsellors and therapists are good at listening. Is there anyway you can see someone, I see you have money problems. How about writing more here or maybe phoning a helpline. It sems to me that your emotions around your daughter are boxed up like her things and unpacking and going through then will be tough but you feel like it is time and it needs to be done.
Good to have you here.
Kia Kaha
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