For the last 20 years my mother has been dealing(or more specifically, NOT dealing with) a very serious case of OCD/Depression oriented Hoarding. For years I struggled with trying to be supportive of her, despite her refusal to deal with problems that seemed plainly obvious to everyone else. Like many horders, her abuse has been systematic and subtle over a very long period of time, making it difficult to see how things developed on a very gradual basis-and made it possible for her to blame others for those problems. This slowly evolving facet has been one of the principal issues that has made it near or impossible to deal with her. You can't suggest what to do, you can't do things for her without her getting angry-but neither will she ask for help-even when its clear she needs it When she DOES ask for help its not really help, but an opportunity to "do it the way she wants something done". You can't even do NICE things for her-because even that reminds her that people care about her despite what an impossible person she has come to be.
IN fact, for the better part of the last 10+ years, we've barely spoken of anything substantial. Our rare phone calls consist of me listening to her go on and on and on about problems she has either caused herself through neglect(another key control point for horders) without so much as letting me get a word in edgewise. Even when my life was falling apart in 2005 it was more important that I listen to her talk for hours at a stretch about tiny minutia in the lives of people she barely knew than to really LISTEN to me. Her inability to see her own problems, yet project her own insecurities and issues on to others and their problems has made this illness all the more difficult to stand by and watch. I could write a novel length case history about her and barely scratch the surface.
When I was 25 years old, I decided I had really had enough. I was experiencing major depression over not being able to help her. I felt like I had tried everything within my power to help her, offer help or give her the ability to help herself-that I was run down. I was so run down emotionally in fact, I was beginning to suffer from stress related high blood pressure. I finally consented to seeing a therapist with my at-the-time partner. After years of dealing with my own depression, I had finally gotten to being sick and tired of being sick and tired. I needed help-and wanted help. It was well and truly time to give up my own ghosts.
Her hording/depression has essentially splintered our family and destroyed any semblance of connection and closeness we once shared. Our former family home is so full of junk, trash, boxes of brand new unused items, random Ebay purchases, (rotting) bulk food, impulse buys, stuff she has dragged in off the street and every other manner of accumulated goods that there is no room to safely walk through the house. Some of these items are worth tens of thousands of dollars-beautiful rare Eames furniture that sits unopend and unused side by side with worthless dollar store thrift goods and bric-a-brac. So much stuff in fact that every surface is covered to the point where "accidents" are now threatening her very safety and the house itself.
IN 2007 there was a fire in the kitchen. When she told me of the blaze, I was immediately concerned. Then, as she began to tell her story, it dawned on me that this was no accident of any stripe, but caused by her stove top and counter area being so cluttered with other items that a box she was forced to set down on top of the stove's burners actually bumped one of the knobs on the stove into the 'on' position without her even noticing. Several minutes later the carboard box and its contents ignited and began to burn. The fire destroyed the counter tops, damaged walls, the overhead lights, cabinets and lots of personal "stuff" which covered the counters in the first place. If she had not been home at the time to hear the fire alarm go off, the house (including two dogs she owns with her partner of 30+ years) and all of her precious 'things' would have certainly been consumed by fire in just a few minutes. Family pictures including the only existing footage of my father playing with us as children-which I have never been allowed to see-along with everything else from our childhood would have been lost forever simply because she won't get help.
Then there are the animals. Two dogs that are not potty trained who shit and piss all over the house have left the house permanently reeking of urine and feces. 30-50+ Large parrots my mother has kept in tiny travel cages for 20+ years now pace endlessly back and forth on the their worn perches, untrimmed nails curl under their feet in cages devoid of anything other than a food and water dish plus the odd/old wooden toy. One of the saddest things you will ever see is a beautiful bird reduced to psychosis through boredom, its feathers and skin picked and chewed to the point of being raw and infected. For years my mother has used them as a reason to NOT take care of others things, to NOT go on vacation, to not leave the house where anyone could DO anything with 'her stuff'. When this fact is pointed out to her, she will claim that its her business-yet for years we were expected to help her feed and clean up after them in conditions that would have had child protective services at our door in a heartbeat if we had but realized the dangerously unsanitary conditions we lived in.
When we were kids, the house was not always clean, but it wasn't the disaster area it has become. I love my mother-the same way you love an addict. You know they are unhappy-and they do their best to keep things within their envelope of control and addiction despite how clearly unhappy it makes them and everyone else. For years I was in pain because I couldn't stop her. Finally when I was 32 years old I called her, begging her to listen to me, that I wanted her to get help. Even telling her through sobbing and tears of love-that I would do anything to help her "sort things out" and that I was very concerned for her. She remained unmoved and cold. Her response that I should "fuck off and mind my own business" was beyond hurtful then and still hurts to think about now. But it did one very critical thing for me...it broke the spell. It changed my mind that I could help her get help-and by help I mean REAL help, not helping her with meaningless tasks which did nothing to contribute to a solution. I have not stopped loving her, but I have stopped trying to be a part of her life in a meaningful way because, I think deep down, her things have become more important to her than anything else-even my love. It certainly bears out in the way she leads her life, treats us and treats her partner. Think of every intervention tactic you can think of, every act of kindness you can think of...my mother has had them all and every financial chance to succeed as well but CHOOSES not to utilize them or accept them. Instead of seeking positive purposes she nearly always focuses on selfish acts of personal interest and hegemony.
So this mother's day, instead of wishing her a happy mother's day, I wish instead for her to seek help. All I want for her is to be happier than she seems, to find some sort of purpose in life. She claimed often when we were kids that she would have been able to do "a lot more if I didn't have kids" and how much she loathed doing laundry, cooking for us all and that we were ungrateful for how hard she worked. But we weren't ungrateful-she was unable to accept the love and appreciation we so often showed her. Blaming a teenager for being self absorbed is like spitting in the wind-all children and teens tend to be focused on "me" before they go out into the real world. If that was the worst she could say about us as kids she doesn't understand what's its like to have kids who were really problematic. None of her children were ever serious fuck ups. Sure, we had troubled times, but we were not strung out on drugs, in and out of jail or worse. Now her children are gone-old enough to do our own laundry, our own cooking and cleaning. She filled that hidden space with stuff, even though she can "do whatever she wants" now. She made her choice and now all I can do is politely step out of the way and leave history to its fade out sequence.
No comments:
Post a Comment