It doesn’t sound too bad, but let me explain …
We had a ‘spare room’ that was no more than a dumping ground to items that I wasn’t willing to bin.
I am rather creative at coming up with ideas on what to do with these items but I actually have no drive or flare for bringing these things into fruition.
What I have learnt though is that my hording isn’t my inner artist collecting materials but actually something more sinister.
Our core beliefs are programed into us during childhood. These beliefs lie in your subconscious and develop into your perspective on how the world is.
When I was a child my parents split and my father went bankrupt to stop my mum getting anything from him. We lost everything. He even sold the house we were living in making us homeless.
For years we lived in poverty as my mum was left paying off his debts (long story for another time)
I developed different, rather unhealthy, methods to feel I was in control at a time of my life when I felt so powerless. If I couldn’t control other things happening I would control what I ate (yes I did have an eating disorder – but again another story for another time) and I would control what I had. I would surround myself with stuff so I would feel safer, protected. I would sort my stuff and organise it as it gave me control when everything seemed to be falling apart.
Then I developed a fear of not having my stuff.
Not having my stuff would mean there was nothing in my life I was in control of. My possessions were my distraction. I couldn’t control what happened with my family, but I could control these inanimate objects that surrounded me. I had lost so much and holding onto these items gave me a security blanket that I wouldn’t be left without anything again.
My hording never really seemed like a problem. I would justify why I was keeping items.
Ridiculous things like the metal hoops from inside lightshades (I was going to string fairy lights on them and make outdoor chandeliers) or scraps of ribbon that tied up throws we bought.
But then I started to work on my mindset. And one thing that you will be told time and time again when working on self development is to de-clutter.
I dismissed it at first. How was having less stuff going to make me more certain of life choices? It was daft.
So I would go at it half heartedly. Clear my desk, de-clutter my handbag, get rid of some old clothes.
Then I started considering the ‘spare room’.
It had become a NO GO ZONE due to the danger of falling objects. I had reached the point where I would stand at the door and throw things in because there wasn’t enough floor space to walk in.
I hated it.
I wouldn’t go to the loft unless I had to. But even so this room of shame felt like a burden no matter where I went.
I knew there were items in there that I wasn’t ready to face – so I would pile more items in to hide these things.
The more I worked on myself the more I could see how much this was impacting on me.
I had already started bagging things up to do a carboot but never got round to it (I guess because I really hate carboots lol). But I plucked up the courage and did it. I really didn’t like it and decided that my time was too valuable to be doing something like that again for so little – that mindset work was paying off. And everything from then was taken to charity shops.
I sorted and organised but still just felt I was moving things from one place to another. I wasn’t decluttering.
I made a decision that I wanted the room to become my home office.
Now the room had a purpose I needed to get it cleared. I had motivation.
This was a big step for me. It meant that I was putting my business ahead of the ‘stuff’ that had been my crutch for so long. It also meant that my desire for my business was stronger than the fear of the memories I would uncover in this room.
So I started looking into the items that I held onto but hadn’t been able to bring myself to look at because of the pain.
And it hurt. I found pictures of my ex and I, back when I believed he loved me – before I learned he wasn’t capable of loving me.
I had the paperwork for the purchase of our home. The place that was meant to be my security but ended up as a prison.
My notebook that I used for all our wedding planning. Spare stationary, order of service and cards from guests. The album, DVD and cd’s of pictures taken by family.
The divorce paperwork, where I was trying to save all I could so I could provide for our daughters while he went and bought a new car so he didn’t have any savings but now had a large expense every month so he would get more in the settlement.
The letters he sent and communication book about the girls that we had when we were unable to talk face to face, a short term thing that took him 4 years to get over.
The letters from his solicitors that he didn’t pay for as he somehow got legal aid. Mediation that again he got for free while I still had to pay out.
It was all so imbued with hurt, anger and frustration. It was like a palpable force that I could feel seeping into me as I sorted through it.
Hurt – because of what he had done. He had cheated on me and lied to me for months neglecting our children and I as his attention was elsewhere.
Anger – that he has never had to take responsibility for his actions. He got legal aid and didn’t pay. He got a new car spending all the money that had been saved while we lived together as it was in his account and I paid the mortgage and bills.
Frustration – that I had to fight so hard to free myself from him and none of what he did was recognised. The divorce paperwork even states he had ‘An inappropriate relationship with a third party’ as he refused to sign anything admitting to his affair and he didn’t want her named on any of it. Even emotional abuse didn’t become illegal until after my divorce so the abuse I endured went unrecognised and I received no support for it.
I know I cannot get rid of all of the paperwork. But what I did need to do was face it and clear what I could.
I went through it experiencing the pain and allowing it to sit with me before releasing it and filing what needed to be kept and bagging what I needed to destroy.
Because so much of what I wanted to get rid of had confidential information on it, I stood in the back garden with my partner and we burned it. I watched the flames and released myself from that past.
I still have some forgiveness work to do, some EFT and meditation.
But I can honestly say that the fear I had over what that room contained and my idea of the pain that I was going to feel was far worse than the actual experience.
I guess I hadn’t realised how much I had already accomplished in my healing journey. And now I am free from the fear of looking into my past.
I know that I survived the real thing once so the memory is nothing but a faded image of it, and that can’t be worse than the real thing.
Take Care and Stay Awesome.
Louise x