I have sold two hoarder homes as a real estate agent, and they left an indelible mark on my psyche. For the first I inadvertently became intertwined with the lives of the inhabitants and their extended family who circled around the perimeter, trying to help but also not wanting to get swallowed by the mess of the interior. I found myself doing things that felt surreal and strange as an attempt to help them move on with their lives, and it's still hard for me to to think about how it permanently changed me.
As I worked to unearth the bones of their home while they still lived there, each layer uncovered the story of how their lives came to be where they were in that moment. It was an excavation of a life, each layer of clothes, food-caked dishes, empty boxes filling rooms that told a tale I still cannot fully make sense of.
The next one came several years later, and while I'd promised myself never to get sucked into something so emotionally taxing again, there I was sorting through the life of someone I barely knew, again with the intention of helping people move on. I spent months alone, first in the large home going room by room making my own decisions about the worth of someone's belongings and then into a cold, unheated garage sorting the things into piles: sell, donate, ship to family. Day after day I'd drive over, as though the task had been imposed on me but I'd actually agreed to it again, somehow forgetting what it takes to peel away the layers of someone else's life with the good intention of helping them. I still wonder if I gave up something of myself during those times, as the memories still stick to me with such sorrow.
The excerpt you shared perfectly captures the emotions of entering the life of a hoarder. The haunting sadness, curiosity and confusion of such a life is hard to wrap your head around.
When we flipped the house, the investor told us that out of the 12 houses he did each year 2 or more were houses like this. People don't realize how common (estimates 1 in 50 Americans) have the disorder. It is surreal to be part of it.
It truly is, the feelings are so conflicting. I think a lot of people think of hoarding as tons of clutter, but it goes so much deeper than that and is quite hard and sad.
My sister lives next door to a hoarder and often accepts food she offers. I told her to stop doing that ASAP as who knows what germs the food contains.
People who hoard have serious mental issues and need professional help. I would never consider doing what you did. Although I do understand your wanting to help, I don't think you should get involved a third time.
You have a lot of courage to tell your story. As a hoarder’s spouse, I encountered a great deal of shaming from people who believed I could and should stop it. My story became a novel that set me free from a part of the anguish, but the tragedy and horror of our lives on in my head. We don’t speak enough about the dilemmas of implicit caregivers in these relationships. The hoarder doesn’t want their interference, yet requires assistance to avoid complete dysfunction until they no longer allow it. My heart goes out to you.
Yes, I think people don’t understand how difficult it is to be supportive and love someone struggling with this. I’m sorry you had to go through it. I think shame is such a big part of people not being able to really access help dealing with it. Many major cities even have agencies now to assist with the consequences. So much pain in it….
"Requires assistance to avoid complete dysfunction until they no longer allow it" -- how true. A family member (still alive) wasn't a full-on hoarder but the garage was a disheveled mess of boards thrown into it to standing height and other rooms have too many things held onto and narrowing aisles into them. The person's spouse wasn't able to control this, especially after growing older. We were fortunate to have the help of one family member to help organize cleaning the garage. Thank you for writing about this!
Even though my mom was just shy of a full-on hoarder, I understand the delicate dance it is to respect the wishes and needs of a parent while fully aware that they need help. And yes, I was solely responsible for dismantling her house after she passed. Not sure how I did it, but it got done.
I'm sorry you had to go through that. It is such a difficult process on so many levels. I'm sorry for your loss and it sounds like you walked that delicate line with sensitivity.
I have sold two hoarder homes as a real estate agent, and they left an indelible mark on my psyche. For the first I inadvertently became intertwined with the lives of the inhabitants and their extended family who circled around the perimeter, trying to help but also not wanting to get swallowed by the mess of the interior. I found myself doing things that felt surreal and strange as an attempt to help them move on with their lives, and it's still hard for me to to think about how it permanently changed me.
As I worked to unearth the bones of their home while they still lived there, each layer uncovered the story of how their lives came to be where they were in that moment. It was an excavation of a life, each layer of clothes, food-caked dishes, empty boxes filling rooms that told a tale I still cannot fully make sense of.
The next one came several years later, and while I'd promised myself never to get sucked into something so emotionally taxing again, there I was sorting through the life of someone I barely knew, again with the intention of helping people move on. I spent months alone, first in the large home going room by room making my own decisions about the worth of someone's belongings and then into a cold, unheated garage sorting the things into piles: sell, donate, ship to family. Day after day I'd drive over, as though the task had been imposed on me but I'd actually agreed to it again, somehow forgetting what it takes to peel away the layers of someone else's life with the good intention of helping them. I still wonder if I gave up something of myself during those times, as the memories still stick to me with such sorrow.
The excerpt you shared perfectly captures the emotions of entering the life of a hoarder. The haunting sadness, curiosity and confusion of such a life is hard to wrap your head around.
When we flipped the house, the investor told us that out of the 12 houses he did each year 2 or more were houses like this. People don't realize how common (estimates 1 in 50 Americans) have the disorder. It is surreal to be part of it.
It truly is, the feelings are so conflicting. I think a lot of people think of hoarding as tons of clutter, but it goes so much deeper than that and is quite hard and sad.
This is 100% true.
I can't even imagine your horror and sadness.
My sister lives next door to a hoarder and often accepts food she offers. I told her to stop doing that ASAP as who knows what germs the food contains.
People who hoard have serious mental issues and need professional help. I would never consider doing what you did. Although I do understand your wanting to help, I don't think you should get involved a third time.
This is wonderful and horrible. What an encyclopedia of dysfunction.
You have a lot of courage to tell your story. As a hoarder’s spouse, I encountered a great deal of shaming from people who believed I could and should stop it. My story became a novel that set me free from a part of the anguish, but the tragedy and horror of our lives on in my head. We don’t speak enough about the dilemmas of implicit caregivers in these relationships. The hoarder doesn’t want their interference, yet requires assistance to avoid complete dysfunction until they no longer allow it. My heart goes out to you.
Yes, I think people don’t understand how difficult it is to be supportive and love someone struggling with this. I’m sorry you had to go through it. I think shame is such a big part of people not being able to really access help dealing with it. Many major cities even have agencies now to assist with the consequences. So much pain in it….
"Requires assistance to avoid complete dysfunction until they no longer allow it" -- how true. A family member (still alive) wasn't a full-on hoarder but the garage was a disheveled mess of boards thrown into it to standing height and other rooms have too many things held onto and narrowing aisles into them. The person's spouse wasn't able to control this, especially after growing older. We were fortunate to have the help of one family member to help organize cleaning the garage. Thank you for writing about this!
You are welcome. There’s so much secrecy and suffering around these situations.
Just wanted you to know that I found this excerpt SO ENGROSSING I absolutely bought the Kindle and am devouring it.
Even though my mom was just shy of a full-on hoarder, I understand the delicate dance it is to respect the wishes and needs of a parent while fully aware that they need help. And yes, I was solely responsible for dismantling her house after she passed. Not sure how I did it, but it got done.
I'm sorry you had to go through that. It is such a difficult process on so many levels. I'm sorry for your loss and it sounds like you walked that delicate line with sensitivity.
Thank you for writing this. You are not alone in this difficult situation. I just bought your book and I'm eager to read how it all turned out.
Thank you!
I just ordered your book. I applaud your courage for telling your story.
Thank you!