My mother subscribed to and collected magazines on every topic imaginable. And when her stacks became unmanageable, she bought shelves to house the stacks of magazines on. I printed out the definition of hoarding and how it is an affliction and told her she needed help.
In the past week as I’ve packed and thrown out and given to charity I realized, I, Rachel Dangermond, am a Hoarder.
Yesterday, at Zulu, I told friends I have been having such difficulty getting rid of stuff that it has almost paralyzed me. Give me an example one asked. I said I have these felt dots that go on the bottom of things to keep them from scratching the table and the sheet of dots has not been used but has been moved for the last 15 years every where that I have gone. “THROW THEM OUT!” came the chorus.
I couldn’t. I came home and they walked in the house and went right to them and went to throw them away and I said, wait, let’s see if they still stick. And they did. I’m sure, no positively sure, that now that they are gone, I will find multiple, emergency, needs and uses for those dots. But for now, they are gone.