One of the things about working on an addiction is the realisation that there may be other areas in your life where you exhibit addictive behaviour. It has caused me to look at where I am with things, such as food, drink, work, sex and relationships. But the one area which is rarely mentioned but may be a problem (and was for me) is hoarding.
I had my annus horribilis in 1987. In that one year, my mother died, my divorce came through, and I had a bad case of flu. I also had to change jobs and moved 3 or 4 times. All of these things coming together meant that near the end of the year I had to move three lots of “stuff” into one small cottage. I had bought a tiny back-to-back place in Glossop, Derbyshire, and not only moved in stuff from my marriage, but also my mother’s stuff that I was not able to sort out in time for the sale of her house, and also the “stuff” that I had accumulated over the couple of years I had been living as a lodger. More of a warehouse than a home.
This was also the time when my gambling was at its height, indeed it was from that house in Glossop where I first made the call to Gamblers’ Anonymous. Looking back, I can come up with some interesting parallels with the two behaviours, gambling and hoarding:
- I kept both of them secret. I was ashamed of both situations: of the money I was throwing away with my gambling and of the state of the house – see point 2.
2. They were both things that I did (or didn’t) deal with on my own. I not only ensured that I didn’t see anyone I knew when I was gambling, but I also went out of my way to ensure that no one came to my house for any reason: So I sort of hid myself away, either in the house or in the corner of a pub or in an “amusement” arcade.
3. I would often have a mental fight with myself when trying to deal with the problem. Interestingly this worked in an opposite way. For gambling, I would often be trying to resist the lure of the machines and find relief from my “brain fight” when I gave into that. With hoarding, I would try and force myself to deal with it and find relief from that “brain fight” when I decided to do nothing. The fact that I have a brain fight at all (should I keep this or take it to the charity shop?) tells me that my hoarding is indeed some form of compulsive behaviour.
4. They are both behaviours that seek to gain gratification in the moment and without any thought of the long-term consequences. For gambling, that was the debt and the amount of work, worry and doing without, that went into servicing that debt. With hoarding, it was the dealing with the stuff. This included having to apologise to plumbers and other tradesmen who had to work around the stuff; paying for a hoarding expert to come in and help me deal with it (a very worthwhile expense I should add!); having to cart the stuff to the tip, to charity shops and other places. Also there was the time and effort of putting some of the stuff on-line for sale; the cost of storage and the effort of putting all the crap into a unit and taking it out from time to time to deal with it.
5. Both of them were used to take away from my pain. Looking back, I find it interesting that my gambling took off when my first marriage was failing and after it had ended. Between marriages one and two were my attempts at ‘sobriety’ and that including buying “stuff.” My hoarding problem got worse after the end of my second marriage.
My second marriage was an unusually happy period for me and during that time not only did I not gamble but I also made a conscious decision not to visit any charity shops. Partly, this was because my wife felt the house was cluttered enough and was not into buying stuff second hand; but I think it was also because I felt I had no need of it.
That changed when my marriage ended. It was a very sudden break and I was devastated. Naturally I thought about gambling, but then why would I want to hurt myself more than I was hurting already. So, in order to do something that I had been prevented from doing (in my mind.) I started to revisit charity shops again. I think the bargain I made with my “child mind” was that I wouldn’t gamble but I needed something to do that would make me feel good even for a short time – and spending money on “stuff” did that. I think at some level I knew it was secondary gambling…less damaging than ‘real’ gambling but still something that would cost me money and might lead to losses. Later, it developed into a book business, which never really took off and probably plunged me further into debt than I needed to be – but more on that in another post.
I don’t think it helps that there are programmes on TV such as “Cash in the Attic” and “Bargain Hunt”, which help to persuade its audience (including me) that there is money to be made from junk. It can happen. I have bought a book for £1 and sold it for £150 or a comic for 20p that sold for £15 but that was rare. What is not seen is the time and expense that goes into making these sales. I know when I watch the “Antiques Road Trip” and I see an ‘expert’ make £200 at the end of a week I am thinking, “yeah and what about the petrol, the overnight stays, meals in restaurants, etc.” It is my thinking brain that knows all this, but in the moment – when I see what I think is a bargain – it makes it difficult to resist.
I know some people who spend their whole lives doing this. Many do not see it as a problem, but I wonder if I (I can only speak for myself) am living my own life when I buy “stuff” or if I am then doomed to work on trying to get rid of it, instead of doing the things that I really want to do. What would my life be like if I didn’t have stuff in it?
I mentioned earlier my work with a “clutter clearer” Heather Tingle -(a link to her website can be found here,) who I allowed into my house almost as a way of pushing past the shame I felt about what I had done. The parallels with calling Gamblers’ Anonymous for the first time were not lost on me and “admitting to myself and another human being” that I had a problem with hoarding felt like the first of the Twelve Steps. Then there was the separating out the thinking brain from the feeling brain as I was dealing with the stuff. Heather was looking at things with her thinking brain and therefore could engage with mine. When I felt my feelings get involved, sometimes I got overwhelmed and had to rest up before I could move on – but Heather gently got me back on track. So much so, that I was able to clear my house enough to allow estate agents and even (despite sheer panic on my part – even though I had taken myself off to another part of the country!) ten separate viewings, three second viewings and a third by the person who eventually bought the place.
That led to another mad scramble to clear the house, which I wouldn’t have managed without the help of a couple of good friends. Proof that recovery from anything does not happen alone.
Although I didn’t get rid of everything and still have a van load of stuff in storage – I am working through it and getting better at letting go. In the end it might outlast me and someone else may have to deal with it. Suffice to say that they will approach it with a thinking brain only and be much more ruthless than I could be.
Let’s hope they don’t throw out the comic which is worth £30K and is in there somewhere – I think!
