For years I’ve struggled with a condition. This condition is not one you can know immediately by gazing upon a person. This condition, also, is not one you can gain knowledge of by general conversation with an individual. This condition also is not one the individual easily admits to or sees for one’s self.
There are many different forms of the condition and many different stages of the same. With the many first stages of the condition a blind eye can be turned and in many more of them the problem has not yet arisen, although it must be monitored carefully.
Just like every person is different, every case of this condition is different depending on the individual. More than not the individual will only have one area in which the conditions forms, but in my case I have several and with one of the cases I doubt there will ever be a cure.
It is time to tell the truth now, I’ve put it off for too long, telling nobody. Only my closets friends and family know I struggle everyday with this condition and I am finally ready to tell the rest of the world.
It saddens me to inform you all that I am a hoarder. That’s right, a hoarder! Being a hoarder is a very serious condition, one in which separation from things become unbearable to the point of pain. The very thought of parting with the objects in which one hoards make one want to gather the object or objects in question and huddle with them in a dark corner so nobody can take them.
I am guilty of hoarding two different things, three if you break it down by principle. My family would say I have a problem hoarding more than just these things, but I just think they are getting confused because once I hoard one thing, everything I own from then on I hoard; their thinking is biased really.
The first thing I hoard is paper. Whether it’s business mail or plank sheets of paper to a piece of paper I write one sentence on, it doesn’t matter the type I tuck it away and keep it. I feel that if I throw it away something will come along and I will need the information on the paper, this rarely ever happens to be true.
Since I started writing when I was eleven or twelve, I have paper upon paper tucked away in folder after folder of the most random things that I decided to jot down that have stuck by my side through the years. I keep saying I’m going to file everything in my computer so I can get rid of the paper madness, but I have yet to do so. For a writer everything written down is potential material for future works. It could be used as is or spark a whole new idea and more often than not it actually does.
This evening I went through it all throwing away over half of what I have accumulated over the years. The many folders and half used spirals are all gone. The only things I have kept are the unused, perfectly good condition paper and the paper that have more than a couple of lines written on them. I am determined to get everything organized in my computer. (Wish me luck!)
The second thing I hoard are journals. Every time I go somewhere new and there is no chance of me visiting the area again for a long time I will buy a journal as a kind of trophy. On many occasions I buy a new journal just for the rush of getting a new journal. I have several, most of them really, that have yet to be written in. I feel a special connection to each journal and I feel that when the time is right I’ll use each one. I don’t want to just start writing anything in the journals I buy, I want to start writing in them during a special time or with the right material. So for now my book shelf is about half and half.
That’s the last thing I hoard… books. I love to read. Reading was my first love and will likely be my last love. As a child I would most likely polish off five to six books in one week, that’s right, one week. Today, as an adult of almost twenty it’s hard to find time for reading. I do, find the time that is, but it’s nothing compared to the time I read when I was little.
So, that’s what I do. I buy a book, or sometimes, several in one moment and say to myself that I’ll eventually read them. Who knows, someday I actually may get the chance to sit and read every book that I buy. I shall never be sorry for the many books I buy. I never want to lose the urge to read and the knowledge that an unread book is always waiting for me.
As a college student, there is not room is the dorm for every piece of paper, journal, or book that I hoard. I am quite proud of myself for what I was able to get rid of today. I may not make it sound like it was enough to count, but believe you me, it was definitely an improvement.
So for those of you that hoard, it’s not such a terrible thing to part ways with that you love. It’s scary and unsettling and it makes you feel that you are losing a part of yourself, but honestly it can be done and once it’s gone you feel elated, liberated, and fresh.
I shall always struggle with my hoarding condition. However, it’s a struggle that will create something great, because as a writer that’s all I can hope for by keeping all that I write, all that I want to read, and all the books I hope to fill to one day create greatness.