I have a confession to make. My parents were hoarders. They began collecting, and their journey ended as hoarding. I feel ashamed to make this statement. I feel like this statement is a betrayal—a betrayal of my parents, whom I love with all my heart. The truth is that the transition from collecting to hoarding happens with time.
It happens when the purchases take over. It happens when a trail needs to be opened up from one room to the other room. It happens when the things that you own are not located when necessary. I was upset when my parents were alive because I felt that they were not safe. My mom fall and broke her hip. I felt that my parents quality of life vanished as more possessions accumulated . Now that they passed away I feel the burden. As I deal with the mess that is left behind my wound does not heal. My wound remains open. Every time a scab lightly covers the wound something happens. A wound that is deep . A wound that gets pried into without a chance for it to restore itself .
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