I’m so excited to share this with you. Tedx has been one of the most amazing experiences I’ve had!
I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted. Forgive me! You’ve been so kind to follow and read my posts in the past. I’ve been busy. Not too busy for my readers; I deeply appreciate you. Just busy.
Last fall, I committed to speak at conferences in Washington State and California on the lasting effects of growing up with a parent who hoards (PWH). It was tough to speak on such a personal topic. Fortunately, I know you understand.
Before things with my PWH happened back in 2009 and our appearances on “Hoarders“, I had never done any public speaking. Sure, I had taken the required public speaking class in college, but I’d had no opportunity to put those experiences into use beyond my education. Now, I speak all the time. I’ve gotten opportunities to speak to many different groups: social workers, municipal employees and agencies, mental health providers, the community-at-large, and to magazine, TV news, and newspaper reporters.
But recently, I took on a new stage, literally, at TedxSpokane–‘Knowing It Again.’ How appropriate is that theme? So many people think they “get” hoarding, but so few really understand what it means to grow up with a hoarding parent (HP). Mistakenly, many people think it’s all about the stuff that filled our childhood homes.
Why did I decide to do this?
I did it for you in hopes you might have a voice. Additionally, I did it for your friends so that they make better understand what we’ve been through and are still dealing with. As well, I did this for your PWH that don’t yet recognize that there’s a problem and that they need help. Finally, I did it for our children because I believe that their generation can be better and healthier than we area.
Please feel free to share this. As far as I can tell, this is the first Ted Talk done specifically on hoarding. Our message needs to get out.
Not just my story.
Your story.
OUR STORIES.
Change begins with stories told and shared. Let’s start a movement!
Clutter-Film by Paul Marcarelli, Diane Crespo (director)
I was fortunate to get the opportunity to attend the world premiere of Paul Marcarelli’s new film, Clutter. Here’s my review of the film.
After the world premiere screening, Paul Marcarelli, the screenwriter of Clutter, shared with the audience in Seattle that he originally had planned to write a film about a home stager attempting to break into her career. Instead, Marcarelli created a film that attempts to capture hoarding disorder (HD) and the effects of living in and growing up in a hoarded home.
The film gives us a glimpse into the lives of the Bradford family. The Bradfords are really not much different than most other American families, searching for the next “thing” to make them feel good enough, safe enough, something enough. The matriarch of the Bradford family is Linda, masterfully portrayed by Carol Kane (Taxi, Beetlejuice) whose “collection-ing” is intensified by a traumatic life event. Now, Linda (Kane) is left to raise three children in a home that has everything except enough room to breathe.
“You’ll have to take me out of here kicking and screaming!” -Linda Bradford
An unusual event draws the attention of outsiders, leading to the threat of Linda’s home being condemned due to the overflow of Linda’s possessions. Faced with the risk of becoming homeless, Charlie (Joshua Leonard), Lisa (Natasha Lyonne), and Penny (Halley Feiffer) work to remedy the home situation. This is a feat that can only be managed while keeping Linda away from the house and distracted. Linda’s adult children attempt to clear the hoard from the family’s home.
The effects of hoarding disorder on Linda and her children is perfectly captured and communicated as real dysfunction that impacts every area of their lives, not simply their interactions with each other and in the home. Offering a fresh glimpse into the effects of a home that contains no safe place for anyone, the film offers a peek into the reality of life with a parent who hoards for many families. There’s simply no place to rest and renew. The effects of this are all-encompassing.
I deeply appreciate Kane’s portrayal of the eccentricities of the hoarding-disordered mother. I was not surprised by this, as Kane is known for her ability to play off-the-wall characters. Personally, I can’t imagine offering this role to another actress. I have been told my mother, my parent who hoards, reminds many people of Kane. Not to be ignored, Leonard walks the fine line of dysfunction, angry brother, and enabling son with the finesse of a child who has lived this lifestyle. Additionally, Lyonne and Feiffer deliver solid performances of the black sheep and the invisible child, respectively.
Perhaps what this film does best is to present a less triggering portrayal of a family affected by hoarding disorder than has been previously brought to the masses. Rest assured the home is sufficiently cluttered to merit the destruction of healthy relationships as witnessed in this family, but also know that gross filth, extreme personality-disordered parenting, and unlikable characters are absent.
The film remains entertaining, utilizing humor to balance such a serious topic without degrading the harsh realities of the family dynamic to overt comedy. Other moments captured the dirty aspects of life perfectly, revealing broken interactions that brought this adult daughter to tears. Although the film’s purpose is not to educate, Marcarelli and Diane Crespo (director) created a film that offers a truly realistic look into the home situation in hoarding disorder.
It’s been a while since I’ve posted on here Today, I thought that it might be helpful to share a bit of what’s going on in my life. Fortunately, it’s not a bad thing. That said, it involves an element of change that I’m finding tough: embracing a new perspective about myself. In other words, I am learning to embrace “the real Ceci G”, and become comfortable with who she is. Part of this requires me to define what I am not while also looking more realistically at what I can become. It’s as if, in some ways, I’m looking at the whole world in a new perspective simply by looking once again at me.
Things have remained busy here. For example, I continue to work on my degree, as well as working tirelessly advocating for families like mine. Fortunately, I’m on track to graduate and with good grades. As a result, I’ve been attempting to integrate some feedback from others about my grades and accomplishments.
Although I was a good student in elementary and middle school, I struggled with some issues outside of school during high school which impacted my grades. Combined with some projecting of negative statements from my PWH, I had concluded that I am not really that smart or capable. As an example of these negative statements, my PWH would often say things like, For someone so smart that was really stupid. Certainly, it’s no surprise that I chose to pick up on the overarching trends: I somehow am less than I should be, or altogether too much and too complicated.
The Challenge
A year ago, a mentor of mine told me that I was extremely capable and intelligent. Because she’s someone I respect and deeply value her thoughts and opinions, I wanted to believe her. Additionally, she told me that whatever I chose to do with my life, I would be successful. Truthfully, I wonder if it was a warning to choose carefully. Whatever I would go after, she concluded, I would excel.
At first, the comment was embarrassing. Honestly, I didn’t even know how to take it. Possibly, I eeked out an awkward, “Thank you.”
The seed was planted. Although I still hadn’t really taken this statement into myself and integrated it into my self-concept, it was there. Slowly, it’s been growing little by little.
Most of the things that contribute to our self-concept, self-worth, and self-esteem are based on interpretations of what others tell us about ourselves. Sometimes this feedback is crap–not worth the air used to share it. Sometimes it comes in a mixed form, and we are unable to sort out truth in the middle of ambiguity. Sometimes it has nothing to do with us at all!
As children, we are especially limited in our ability to discern what is what. We often pick up inaccurate messages, internalize them, and they become who we believe we are. Inadvertently, we carry these messages with us into adulthood. If we’re lucky, we may hit the bottom in some way and realize that something is not quite right. If we’re blessed, we may decide to look inward and search for a “healthier and more beneficial” way of being. And if we are truly persistent, we can uncover our true worth and identity.
Testing a new perspective
When the seed was first planted, it just was there. Yet, with time, I have looked at others’ thoughts and words spoken to me or over my achievements.
I am learning to weigh and integrate new information. When someone makes a statement, about me or anything/anyone else, I am trying to start evaluating it critically. Cautiously, I turned things around and looked at them logically first.
What motive could others have for their words? How likely is it that repeated statements are true even if I struggle to accept them? What kind of risk would I be taking to integrate these positive thoughts into my self-concept? How would they benefit from my adoption of a more positive self-evaluation? Would I benefit from it? Is this an emotion, subjective to each person’s perspective, or a potential factual statement? Could this be true of someone else? If so, could it also be true of me?
Adoption and Integration
At times, it has seemed arrogant to choose to believe these new perspectives. That’s part of the challenge, learning to let go of broken narratives. Yet, I’ve begun to see that it’s quite possible that I am as smart, capable, gifted, and patient as people are telling me. I’m beginning to see that some of those whose opinions I’ve valued most were simply those who were the best at hiding their underlying motivations.
A commitment to accepting new information as plausible or true takes time. I keep practicing my new narrative. I can be quite intelligent, gifted, and patient while also still making my fair share of mistakes. One does not discredit the others completely. Brilliant people have bad days and make bad choices. Some dense people have amazing advisers and are wildly successful despite not being the most brilliant person in the room. Most things, it turns out, are not “either or” circumstances.
Adoption requires courage. It takes chutzpah to commit to claiming a new perspective about yourself, especially when the narrative has been distorted for a long time. Integration requires persistence and patience. Change doesn’t occur immediately. I find I must remind myself of these new facts and interpretations repeatedly before they take root and sprout. That requires effort over time.
What new information are you trying to integrate about your self? Where are you feeling stuck? What’s been helpful in your process?
Recently, it has come to my attention that many of you have been contacted or seen a patient whose parent is a hoarder. Shockingly, I keep hearing that there are still mental health providers who are treating clients with hoarding despite very few of you completing the training recommended by the International OCD Foundation and the researchers who are treating this.
Fortunately, I believe that you are well-meaning. Because I’m a glass half full kind of gal, until proven otherwise, I will believe that your intention is to help people. Yet, inadvertently, you are hurting a block of society. Additionally, you may be violating your respective licensure’s Code of Ethics regarding competent practice.
Did you really say that?
In addition, I’m horrified by how many adult children report their inappropriate experiences disclosing how they grew up. Although I understand that it may surprise you when the adult child of a hoarder comes to you and describes the filth and hell that they grew up in, no matter how surprised you are, it is inappropriate to say, “Oh my goodness!” with a look of shock and horror plastered across your face. Sadly, this this type of response is exactly what we fear the most: shock and horror. In so doing, you are furthering shame, blame, and guilt that has never been ours to carry. Please respect how difficult it is to show up in someone’s office and betray our family by sharing this closely guarded secret.
Hoarding Indicates Mental Illness
Please understand that our parents are mentally ill. That means that the large accumulation of stuff is ONLY a symptom of the mental illness. Additionally, co-morbidity rates for those who hoard is very high. One study indicates that more than 50% of those who hoard have major depression. If you can, ask the adult children of hoarders and many will tell you that their parents are narcissistic, borderline, or even bipolar. Thus, the large accumulation of stuff is almost insignificant compared to the emotional, mental, and sometimes physical abuse and neglect that go on inside of these homes.
Take a Walk in our Shoes
Imagine for a moment that you place an 18 month old child in the hoard. Where does this child play? Does he/she do so safely? Are they limited to small areas of the house? Is nutritious food easily accessible? Is normal personal hygiene practiced?
Now, imagine that 18 month old has grown up some. She’s now 15 years old. Sadly, her own bedroom has long ago become packed with things that belong to her hoarding parent. Thus, she cannot close her door. As well, she has no desk to sit at to study, no place that is uniquely hers–a refuge during the turbulent years of adolescence. Also consider that the bathroom, if functional at all, is disgusting. Mom and Dad may control her access and usage of the facilities. Likely, if she is using them, there is still no privacy; Mom may barge in at any moment.
As a result, she has no friends over to the house. How could she? If she were allowed, which she isn’t, she would be mortified to let the kids at school know how she lived. Often, she will have mastered the fine art of dodging the truth, telling half-truths and becoming a split-personality. She never tells her friends how she really lives, feels, or dreams. Those truths are not safe; she learned this long ago.
Seek Training, Do Better
When you get the opportunity to hear a speaker on the issue of hoarding, please take it. Ask questions. Real questions, even the ones that are embarrassing to ask. The only dumb question is the one that remains unasked. And if you don’t have the opportunity to do this, find a way. Contact the Children of Hoarders’ website and find out if there is someone local who would speak to you in person, and if not, by phone. I personally have no issue talking about all the nitty-gritty, dirty, shameful, and embarrassing stuff. I am happy to do presentations for CEUs. But I’m not the only one who does this.
Please be aware that this is not a new issue. But awareness is still very new. Think of the child of an alcoholic back in the 1960s. They were terrified to talk about the family secret. They longed to be heard, acknowledged, and encouraged. We, as children of hoarders, are much the same.
Last night I had a short conversation with another adult child who was having a rough evening. The need to express herself was not out of the ordinary, but she needed someone who could listen, validate her right to have the feelings she was having, and encouraging her to work through them instead of reacting badly. Sigh, I only wish that when I was her age I’d had the same opportunity to connect with someone else who had been there and knew the secret world I was continuing to cut ties to!
This morning, I continued to ponder my past and what I’ve come through, where I’ve come from, and what I still need to work on. I was thinking about the Laundry List of Adult Children of Alcoholics, especially point number eight:
We became addicted to excitement.
I’ve read in other groups a modified version of this statement that includes fear or excitement. And it took me a while to accept that I was like this.
I’m a drama queen.
When I met my husband four and a half years ago, I owned a T-shirt with the message on the front: I DON’T DO DRAMA. How ironic it was that I wore that shirt! Why? Because when my life settled down and became normal, I had a habit of creating drama, self-sabotaging myself and my relationships.
Do I enjoy the stress and anxiety of drama on a regular basis? Honestly, no…but if you looked at how I reacted most of the time to minor issues, you would think that I thrived on it. Okay, honestly, I probably did. But it’s only because I was used to drama, stress, crises. Growing up, a day without drama was like a day without the letter A. They were requirements for life!
Am I alone in this? Is it just me? Sadly, I think many of us come from families of dysfunction, mental illness or other addictions/compulsions where drama/crises were a normal part of daily life.
I don’t like the heart-pounding of anxiety, not knowing how someone else is going to react to any single word I say. I detest it! And yet, when I was brutally honest with myself, I found that I intentionally acted in ways that would propagate drama in my closest relationships. If I’m stripped clear of my walls and look at the deepest, rawest and real part of my heart and being, I have to admit that I was a drama queen for far too long. Sometimes, I still revert those kinds of behaviors when I’m feeling inadequate or nervous, or….
When life is simply going too well!
It’s really messed up, I know. When I’m happy and life is going well, I have to open my mouth and pick a fight with someone I love. It’s like on some level I crave the adrenaline rush of not knowing how they may respond to what I’ve said. Or, perhaps it’s that the idea from childhood that I don’t have a right to a normal, happy, healthy life that spurs me to do really self-defeating things.
Alas, if you’ve met me…I may not strike you as the drama queen-type (whatever that is!). That said, I try to remain approachable and unassuming. Yet I know I sometimes come off as standoffish, but really, it’s just that I am still working through my fear of rejection. But somewhere in my past, not that long ago, I was the Queen of Drama Queens.
I will openly admit to attempting to sabotage every personal relationship I’ve had. Fortunately, my darling husband meant the “for better or worse” part of the vows. He remains calm and encourages me to talk when I get into this funk. And you know what, when I stop and talk, I realize that the drama isn’t what I want. There is an unmet, unspoken expectation I have for others that I simply need to express.
And when I find the strength to cool off and express my needs and expectations, the drama fades away. It isn’t necessary; it never really is. See that’s the thing I’ve learned: Even when things go wrong or badly, as they sometimes will, I can react calmly and have a positive result. My problem doesn’t have to be blown out of proportion or become the center of everyone’s universe for it to turn out in a way that I am happy with.
Looking back wistfully
Oh how I wish I had learned this so long ago! I think of all the stupid things I’ve done and said because I felt entitled, believed it was necessary, to make mountains out of anthills.
I may not look the part; I’m not your average drama queen, you know…at least, I’m striving not to be a drama queen anymore!
I am going to share something that I wrote on the plane when I flew into DC for the first time last August. I didn’t really know what my mother’s medical condition was, or the condition of her home. Often, I turn to writing as a form of coping or healing. Somehow, putting words down on paper and getting the thoughts out of my head is calming for me. I hope that perhaps someone who needs to hear these things will have the opportunity to read it and it will be a springboard as they enter their journey toward healing.
I’m posting it now because I am closing the door, ending an era of my life. As I continue to break free from my childhood, I’m learning that I have to go back and take account of what really happened. This is part of the recovery process. That means I have to face memories that are excruciatingly painful, allowing myself to feel that pain.
Unfortunately, I haven’t discovered a set time frame for how long this period takes. My best guess is that it depends on what you’ve faced, how much time and energy you want to commit, and how long ago it happened.
Whatever may have happened to you, I hope you find the courage to acknowledge that it was real. It hurt. Likewise, you’re probably still trying to break free and move past it.
Writing for healing can take many forms. For example, I have found that writing via this blog has been helpful. Sometimes, I write poetry. Other times, I find it necessary to write out challenging past events.
Today, I am sharing an old writing to encourage and inspire your process. Additionally, I’m ready to move into another phase: re-parenting myself. Re-parenting is about starting to live with healthy habits.
Trauma and Psalm 23
Going home resurrects deep-seated anxiety within me. The laissez-faire days of childhood have long ago been erased by the haunting of shame, false guilt, dread, and embarrassment.
It’s amazing just how much the human soul can tolerate, still functioning in “normalcy”. Its adaptability likens itself to the chameleon. And yet, the past lurks just below the surface mimicking rational thought.
The hurt child grows and matures often, and may in fact appear to have received healing until faced with the return to the childhood home. And in that moment, the soul teeters between anxiety from what it has been unable to let go of and the “expected joy” pressed upon it by others.
How does the frightened child shake off the dust of abuse and neglect and instead cling to the fairy tale-like memories of fleeting joy and happiness which although also experienced have been repressed and beaten?
THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD; I SHALL NOT BE IN WANT. HE MAKES ME LIE DOWN IN GREEN PASTURES, HE LEADS ME BESIDE QUIET WATERS, HE RESTORES MY SOUL.
In silent repose, the soul and body find the ability to heal and be comforted. When the soul and body together are protected and nourished, healing and restoration come.
HE GUIDES ME IN PATHS OF RIGHTEOUSNESS FOR HIS NAME SAKE.
When the broken child’s soul chooses to stop the cycle, to break the curse of abuse and walk a foreign route instead, it can begin to believe that not all things are created for its demise. Perhaps even, in retrospect, the soul can see how their brokenness has also developed character and moral rightness which leads others to ask, “How can this be?”
EVEN THOUGH I WALK THROUGH THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH, I WILL FEAR NO EVIL, FOR YOU ARE WITH ME; YOUR ROD AND YOUR STAFF THEY COMFORT ME.
In the midst of anxiety, the soul sees a glimmer of light above the mountain range of despair looming large on the horizon before it. Like the first fingers of morning sun breaks over the hills, so hope also reaches down to the soul. Even in the depths of the valleys, the low places of life’s turmoils, even there light can reach.
And this hope can give the soul just enough to allow direction–safe, solid, sound–to hem it in and lead it down a path it might otherwise flee.
YOU PREPARE A TABLE BEFORE ME IN THE PRESENCE OF MY ENEMIES.
The broken soul hungers for something more, something better. The leftover crumbs of stale bread it has survived, though never flourished upon, previously just will not do; they will not be accepted at all. Yet a banquet, a grand feast is prepared solely for that soul when it trusts just enough to risk something different and unknown. The feast is for the broken soul alone, and it is held publicly to flaunt to the abusers, the grafters, the usurers the value of that lone, “insignificant” soul.
YOU ANOINT MY HEAD WITH OIL; MY CUP OVERFLOWS.
The benefactor of grace tends the wounds gently of the broken soul. The healer not only cares for present injuries, but also past scars and protects and strengthens the soul from future harm. He goes so far as to not just heal and protect, but to bless beyond measure. The broken soul receives far more than healing and restitution–it becomes more than what it idealizes “could have been”.
SURELY GOODNESS AND LOVE WILL FOLLOW ME ALL THE DAYS OF MY LIFE AND I WILL DWELL IN THE HOUSE OF THE LORD FOREVER.
Find Your Healing Strategy
Ultimately, we each have to find a source of healing and work through our process. I have friends who use photography or other artistic expressions helpful in moving through their journeys out of past hurts. Whatever you try, keep experimenting until you find the thing (or things) that is most beneficial to you.
What works well for you? I’d love to hear how you’re healing! Your ideas may help someone else get started too!
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