I can't believe I haven't posted since Feb. 11. Anyway....
A few colleagues at work started an impromptu conversation about the TV show "Hoarding," and we all started to share our own "clean sweep" techniques, organizational tips, and hoarding habits. Hoarding is a fascinating psychological problem. I can relate to the emotional inability to discard a precious, sentimental item, but I suspect it goes further than logical attachments for someone who actually suffers from a debilitating habit of holding on to EVERYTHING. As a teacher, I can't help but see the cognitive error being made: it's wrong to conclude that everything you own is valuable or needed in some way. Hoarders are too broad in their definition of "necessary."
I see the error in a hoarder's judgement from the perspective of a writer, as well. There's a need to edit whether it's our writing or our lives. I've thrown out 3 sentences already- forever to live in Delete, USA.
But, perhaps everyone lives with a strand of the hoarding principle that doesn't interfere with their lives. At work I confessed my need to hold onto boxes. Yes, boxes. Cardboard, gift, jewelry, large, small, shipping, shirt, shoe. If it's a box, I'll find a place for it. I don't know why. For some reason, the top of a closet isn't complete if it lacks some empty box never to be looked for again or thought of.
I'm pretty good with most other things, like clothes. If I'm not wearing something regularly, I get rid of it. I'm a regular at the Salvation Army boxes, and sometimes I do clothing swaps with friends and family who wear my size.
I must admit that I do have a few pairs of jeans that are half the size I wear now, hiding in my bedroom closet. And each season, when I do my spring cleaning, I look at them again and have the same conversation in my head I had the year before. They fit like a glove when I was 26- how is it that they aren't mine anymore?
In the spirit of spring cleaning, this coming weekend I plan to cut the fat by getting rid of lots of things I keep saying I will get rid of one day! Weather permitting, those days that always seem far in the future are finally here. Let's see: what will go first? The ratty light blue robe that I haven't washed or worn since I got a new, fluffy white one; the winter coats I've lost interest in; the shoes up on shoes upon shoes I no longer enjoy; the Pottery Barn catalogues and magazines piled in a corner that I've looked at a zillion times.
What about the boxes, you ask? You saw the movie "What About Bob?" didn't you? Baby Steps.
A few colleagues at work started an impromptu conversation about the TV show "Hoarding," and we all started to share our own "clean sweep" techniques, organizational tips, and hoarding habits. Hoarding is a fascinating psychological problem. I can relate to the emotional inability to discard a precious, sentimental item, but I suspect it goes further than logical attachments for someone who actually suffers from a debilitating habit of holding on to EVERYTHING. As a teacher, I can't help but see the cognitive error being made: it's wrong to conclude that everything you own is valuable or needed in some way. Hoarders are too broad in their definition of "necessary."
I see the error in a hoarder's judgement from the perspective of a writer, as well. There's a need to edit whether it's our writing or our lives. I've thrown out 3 sentences already- forever to live in Delete, USA.
But, perhaps everyone lives with a strand of the hoarding principle that doesn't interfere with their lives. At work I confessed my need to hold onto boxes. Yes, boxes. Cardboard, gift, jewelry, large, small, shipping, shirt, shoe. If it's a box, I'll find a place for it. I don't know why. For some reason, the top of a closet isn't complete if it lacks some empty box never to be looked for again or thought of.
I'm pretty good with most other things, like clothes. If I'm not wearing something regularly, I get rid of it. I'm a regular at the Salvation Army boxes, and sometimes I do clothing swaps with friends and family who wear my size.
I must admit that I do have a few pairs of jeans that are half the size I wear now, hiding in my bedroom closet. And each season, when I do my spring cleaning, I look at them again and have the same conversation in my head I had the year before. They fit like a glove when I was 26- how is it that they aren't mine anymore?
In the spirit of spring cleaning, this coming weekend I plan to cut the fat by getting rid of lots of things I keep saying I will get rid of one day! Weather permitting, those days that always seem far in the future are finally here. Let's see: what will go first? The ratty light blue robe that I haven't washed or worn since I got a new, fluffy white one; the winter coats I've lost interest in; the shoes up on shoes upon shoes I no longer enjoy; the Pottery Barn catalogues and magazines piled in a corner that I've looked at a zillion times.
What about the boxes, you ask? You saw the movie "What About Bob?" didn't you? Baby Steps.
