I have a confession to make: my parents were hoarders. What began as a simple collection evolved into hoarding over time. I feel ashamed to admit this; it feels like a betrayal of my parents, whom I love with all my heart. The truth is that the transition from collecting to hoarding happens gradually.
It occurs when purchases begin to take over, when a path has to be cleared from one room to another, and when the things you own can't be found when needed. I was upset while my parents were alive because I felt they were not safe. My mom fell and broke her hip, which made me worry even more. I saw their quality of life diminish as their possessions accumulated.
Now that they have passed away, I feel the weight of the burden they left behind. As I confront the mess, my emotional wounds do not heal; they remain open. Every time a scab starts to form over the wound, something triggers it again. It’s a deep wound that keeps reopening without any chance to heal truly.
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