Hoarding Battles
Hoard: to accumulate for preservation, future use, etc., in a hidden or carefully guarded place.
Our attic qualifies as a place where we guard and preserve our hidden treasures, among many other random items. I wish it didn’t.
I've heard there are two kinds of hoarders: the crazy hoarders on reality television shows who cannot throw anything out and need a map to find their kitchen. Then there are the emotional hoarders like me. We hold on to photographs and small mementos that remind us of a person or place in time. My husband is neither; he holds onto things he thinks he might use at a later date. He has insisted on putting unused "things" in the attic for over forty years. He wants to save them under the guise that he will use them at some point and doesn't want to have to repurchase them. When I talk to him about clearing out the attic before one of us dies (I know it's not exactly the right approach), he says we may need those "things" someday.
Every piece of luggage we have ever owned is up there, along with a circa 1980’s tent. We discussed that luggage now comes with wheels, and we have plenty of those, yet my husband cannot part with a quality, once-expensive overnight bag from his first "real" job. The tent and all of the camping equipment have not been used since 1995, and I can tell you right now I will not sleep on the ground, a thin foam mat, or a canvas 18-inch cot ever again. My idea of camping now is a minibar and a “Do Not Disturb" sign on the hotel door. Yet, all of these unused items are still in the attic.
On the other hand, hanging on to old photographs or a yellowed newspaper with a bold headline stating that the United States has declared war is worth keeping. I’ve kept my green metal hospital card from when I was born, a partial rosary from my grandmother (it's only missing a few decades' worth of Hail Marys), and a hotel key dangling from an oval red plastic ring that holds a lovely locked memento from my past.
I save memories, small tokens that evoke a memory. The Time magazine cover announcing the death of Lady Di evokes a memory; the Coleman lantern does not. A brown leather briefcase worn at the corners with a tiny brass lock does nothing for me; it screams Goodwill and good riddance. A cross stitch I made for my daughter, tucked away in a box, reminds me of the hours spent making it, a skill I learned from my mom.
Boxing up clothes that we will never wear again, pictures that will never grace a wall, and computer equipment that was obsolete decades ago and delegating it to the attic makes no sense.
Being an emotional hoarder seems rational to me. Storing memories helps me hold on to the past, brings me happiness in the present, and encourages me to look forward to creating new memories.
We recently had a huge dumpster in front of our house as we were in the midst of a kitchen remodel. We agreed to take this opportunity to clear out some of the stuff in the attic. We ditched loads of paper files, toys, and outdated electronics. We did a good job, but it was not enough.
The battle of the hoarders remains stagnant for now, as my husband and I place value on different things. However, when I head to the attic looking for something, I try to bring down a few items that will soon be on someone else’s shelf. Do other couples struggle with the same issues? After all, aren’t we of an age where we are supposed to be purging, not saving?
How is the battle going in your home?
Bit by bit, that’s all she wrote…