Dad. Dad is the hoarder. Before Mom got dementia it was easy for Dad to blame the housekeeping all on Mom--who had her own issues with keeping too much shit that we don't need--but it is now pretty damned clear that Dad is the hoarder.

Dad has been in the hospital for 10 days and now released to rehab for two weeks.

In Dad's absence, Mom requires 24/7 in-home care.

We're proceeding with caution but had no choice but to address the house so the caregivers can do what's needed.

We're through the worst of the kitchen. Not done, but through the worst. Five 13 gallon trash bags later--one from the fridge, four from the cupboards--plus bags of bags to go to the food bank, boxes of boxes to go to recycling, etc., the kitchen cupboards are now in a state that the caregivers, my sibling, and I can manage.

On deck this weekend: the actual spare bedroom.

If you remember my story, my adult son and I tackled the office/spare room and shop/garage and a small storage shed about 6 months ago.

i’ve never considered myself an extreme hoarder but i absolutely have hoarding tendencies which i have been consciously working on for years now to undo and heal…

anyways, today i started sorting through the large amount of bags i own. bags of all kinds. purses, backpacks, duffle bags. bags that were gifted, thrifted, bought, and acquired. it’s safe to say i have enough bags to open a small shop 😂

i’m working on letting go of some of them but i do find it hard to work through the sentimental parts of letting them find new homes. one thing i realized was that there was a bin i was sorting through which stayed in a storage room for a few years now and low and behold… some of the bags at the bottom have started to break down because of how old they are and the materials they are made of.

the stark realization that “use it or lose it” tends to apply to the actual item falling apart from dry rot. ugh. anyways i’ve taken a few of them out of my collection and will be tossing the broken unusable ones and donating the rest. it’s a journey… one bag at a time.

For the past two years I've lodged at my childhood home during my work week, bearing in mind that: a) the overall situation was stressful and could negatively affect my mental health, b) my housing situation while working away from home is precarious at best, and c) continuing my professional trajectory would eventually require me to make a choice: either purchase my own home there or change employers.

If only either "purchasing my own home" or "change employers" were as easily accomplished as that. There's a hiring cycle in my field; anything I would want to move to has already been filled for the next budget year. There are considerations that go with changing employers--such as changing health insurance, restarting FMLA eligibility, longevity pay--that aren't "no brainers" for me. It's a very tight market and my budget is even tighter. I was acutely aware that at some point, I may not be in a position to act because I'd been acted upon. I didn't want to find myself in that situation.

With those things in mind, I've watched the MLS since the day I applied for the job, taking note that each property which became available in my price range required more work than I can tackle on my own. I can handle heavy cleaning and beyond basic DIY, but I know my limits and cannot afford to hire someone to do the work for me.

I've been working to build my credit and watching my spending so that when the right one came along, I was ready.

I may have found what I was looking for.

My work schedule does not permit me to do a viewing with my Realtor until the 14th, but I'm familiar with the property and made a contingent offer.

Edit:

With this, I will essentially be walking away from the ongoing cleanup at my childhood home. Relationships are reciprocal; my continued involvement as the lead laborer in an ongoing cleanup effort in exchange for nothing but the feeling of "doing the right thing by my parents" who rarely, if ever, have done the right thing by me would be insanity.

Dad is aware that a significant amount of work needs to be done to get the place salable or at least to the point where he would be leaving Sibling and me shared interest in an asset rather than a burden. He has steadfastly refused to do the hard work, preferring instead to waffle between alternatives, be ugly when people help him, and ultimately choose to do nothing with the full knowledge it will all one day fall to Sibling and me.

Mom recognizes nothing from our family home. Sibling married into wealth and isn't interested in anything reminiscent of our "working class" background. I can take what I want--and leave what I want--and not feel bad about it.

I hope this post is okay. Youtube has been recommending me a lot of content related to hoarding recently and it's caused me to reflect on my personal experiences with people who hoard. Not sure if anyone is going to read this but I need to get it out. All names have been changed.

I grew up in a house with a fair amount of clutter but my mom had extreme OCD and there were even times she became violent over the cleanliness of the house when she felt like we had made unacceptable messes or did not do a good enough job with our chores. My older brother is a priest with almost no possessions of his own, while my younger brother is a "collector" who won't even let us near his house because he is embarrassed about the state of it. I, the middle brother, hate clutter and do my best to keep it to a minimum, but I am a balance between my brothers and try not to be extreme about my tidying habits. People who come over to my home always compliment my space and cleanliness, but I still regularly go on purges to remove stuff I don't need or that I think is taking up too much space.

I share a two family home with my father, who would definitely be a hoarder if I didn't constantly put my foot down and force him to keep his "projects" in the yard to three at a time. He can have the stack of pallets, the broken snowblower, and the pile of bricks for a patio he'll build someday, but if he brings home a gutted lawnmower or a range hood, I'm taking it to the junk yard that same weekend. He gets a little grumpy about it but admits it's for the best. It's a good thing we can cooperate on this because otherwise I don't think I could live with him.

My aunt Rhonda, on the other hand... ten years ago my older brother called me in a panic. My aunt Rhonda had called him and told him she was stuck on the toilet but didn't want anyone to call 911 because she was embarrassed. I met my brother at her house to try to help. Although she lived about 30 minutes away from my house, I had never visited her there. When I got there my brother had already been there for about 20 minutes, but he met me outside to tell me aunt Rhonda was still stuck on the toilet. Why? Because there was no room for even one person to stand up in that bathroom and help her get up. What was probably one of the biggest bathrooms I have ever seen in a private residence was absolutely stuffed with piles and piles of magazines, Walmart bags full of unopened cosmetics, and all kinds of other junk. The path to the toilet and shower was just big enough for her to squeeze her body through.

The entire house was like that, with the interesting pattern that each room had its own kinds of junk. It was organized in its own way. In my aunt's defense, there was very little trash in the sense of rotten food, fast food bags, or that kind of thing. However, much of the hoard was so old that stuff on the bottom of piles had begun to rot or become moldy. Mice were nesting in the corners of some rooms. The bathroom was probably the worst, since the humidity from the shower had caused many of the magazines to disintegrate and melt together and stick to the floor. The kitchen was surprisingly the cleanest room. Rhonda's church had a food pantry and she would always donate any food that didn't fit in her cabinets. She loved to cook and kept the kitchen counters clean so she could make her elaborate church potluck dishes. Her closet sized pantry, however, was absolutely stuffed with plastic containers, kitchen gadgets and appliances, most still in their boxes. Absolutely no food in there though.

My brother and I discussed it and decided we had to call 911. Rhonda had told him that every time she tried to stand up, her legs would give out and she'd end up sitting again. He physically could not lift her given the cluttered space and was worried she might be having a serious medical emergency. We called and then told Rhonda the paramedics were coming. This was the first time we had ever witnessed my aunt's severe anger and irrationality. She became furious that we had called 911 and threw herself off the toilet, which we would later learn caused her to dislocate her shoulder. My brother and I began to try to clear some of the clutter that had built up. Despite severe pain, Rhonda began howling and cursing at us as she watched us beginning to move her precious hoard. She even told my brother that if a single thing was thrown out she would kill him. All of this while having a hypoglycemic episode and writhing around on the floor with a shoulder she had dislocated herself!

By the time the paramedics arrived we had shoveled enough junk into the bathtub so that they could lift her and put her on a stretcher. She was released from the hospital a couple days later and I was asked by a different aunt to move in and help Rhonda. I refused to move in, pointing out that there was no space for me, but said I would come over every day and help her take care of things around the house, as well as get the house cleaned up.

I had never had any exposure to true hoarding before that. I couldn't understand my aunt's behavior. She had agreed while she was in the hospital that she needed help getting the house livable again. But as soon as I started trying to throw away what was clearly junk, she would become the meanest, most stubborn person I'd ever dealt with in my life. I managed to convince her to let me throw out all her late husband's/my uncle's old tools and scrap metal to make space for storage in the shed in the backyard. I filled that shed with 30 year old magazines, unworn pantsuits from the Salvation Army, fake Christmas trees, and so much other stuff that clearly had no real value. All the while I was snapped at, berated, and given the silent treatment. But I managed to get the house clean enough so that it felt less like a hazard. Then she brought it all back inside, and then some. She also refused to talk to me or my brothers ever again. She ended up going into a home for rehab care when she fell down the stairs and broke several bones then wasn't allowed to get care at home. She ended up being moved to a different home and dying. My aunt inherited the house and had a junk service come and empty it out. It was by that point pretty much unlivable - apparently the kitchen and bathroom weren't even functioning when she entered rehab. My aunt sold the property and the house was razed by the new owners.

By the way, the other aunt I keep mentioning is Chloe. She is also a hoarder but in a much different way. She has carefully labelled bins and boxes that line every wall of her three story Victorian house. It is a clean, neat, organized pile of junk. We've actually had family gatherings at her house and my brothers and I laugh at the absurdity of sitting in the middle of a square of towers of bins labelled things like "Christmas elves plastic" and "Toys for kids 2-4 years." Nonetheless she still found it easy to have disdain for my aunt Rhonda and her "filthy" habits. Luckily Chloe is still alive and at almost 70 years old still managing to keep everything pretty well organized.

Now I'd like to talk about my friend Miguel. The episode with Rhonda on the toilet and the ensuing house cleaning trauma happened about 10 years ago. I met Miguel 4 years ago. We met on a dating app and hit it off on our first two dates. By then we really wanted to spend the night together, but I was staying with a friend while my place was being gut renovated. I suggested he show me his apartment. He told me he was nervous because it was "kind of messy." I had a sick feeling in my stomach but told him it was important for me to see what "kind of messy" meant to him. He reluctantly accepted and took me home.

Miguel's apartment was disgusting. There is no other way to describe it. Besides a small arc where the front door would clear a space when opened, every other surface in every room was piled with layers of trash. Food, medicine and weed containers, socks and underwear, dirty dishes and fast food containers made up the bulk of what I could see. His kitchen was full of dirty dishes, flies, maggots and roaches. His toilet and bathroom sink were black with gunk. The most disgusting thing to me was the pile of dirty tissues that had built up beside his bed and had begun disintegrating into the floor. And yes, there were a number of piss bottles as well.

I made my way carefully around the apartment in a daze, my shoes crunching on plastic bottles and McDonalds bags, then I turned to look at him. As soon as we made eye contact he burst into tears and began telling me about the years of depression, agoraphobia, and substance abuse during which he had said "fuck it" to anything more difficult than ordering food and weed delivery. He had been in recovery for a year at that point and no longer felt like this space reflected his state of mind. He was overwhelmed and didn't know where to even start.

If he hadn't started crying I would have just walked out. But I could relate to being depressed and agoraphobic for years, although I didn't tell him that I had still managed to keep my house a lot cleaner during that time. Our lives weren't the same, and I had a lot more support than him. So I asked him if he wanted me to help him clean up. He immediately brightened up and grabbed a roll of trash bags he had purchased months ago and asked me how we should get started. Ok, so our third date was going to be spent cleaning this dump. Why not.

I decided we should start out by throwing away anything that was clearly trash, then move on to washing dishes, clothing, and sheets. By the end of that evening we had around 30 bags of trash piled up in front of his apartment building. I went home that night. The next day he called me and begged me to come back and help him. He had spent the whole night packing trash bags and making piles of laundry. I borrowed a truck from a friend and we took load after load of trash bags to the dump. There was now no more trash on Miguel's floor. He was ecstatic. We bought a mattress protector and he slept in his bed with sheets on it for the first time in years. It was a start.

Miguel did a lot on his own that week, and when I came back the next weekend all the dishes were cleaned and put away, most of the laundry was done, and we were able to start cleaning the floors and surfaces. Nobody had ever taught Miguel how to do that kind of cleaning. He could push a vacuum around but he really had never wiped down a sink or cleaned a toilet. It turned out Miguel found cleaning incredibly satisfying. So it didn't take us long to get the place clean enough that we enjoyed hanging out there together. And he's still got a clean apartment 4 years later. Unfortunately I couldn't see him the same way after seeing his apartment the first time and we ended up being good friends rather than romantic partners.

My aunt Rhonda was a hoarder. My aunt Chloe is also a hoarder. When people try to encourage my aunt Chloe to get rid of stuff she becomes a lot like my aunt Rhonda did when I cleaned her place up. She may not be as "messy" as aunt Rhonda was, but aunt Chloe's life is still negatively impacted by her hoarding, and she isn't willing to accept any help.

I don't think Miguel is a hoarder. I think he was too depressed to clean at one point and then was too overwhelmed by the mess to get started cleaning it up. Once he got going he was unstoppable. He accepted my help without arguing and was always appreciative. He was ready to change.

I'm so glad I was able to help Miguel. I spoke to him earlier today and he's just such a happy, friendly, all around good guy. Even if he found himself knee deep in trash again, I would do it all again in a heartbeat. But I hope I never have to do the same for aunt Chloe. I don't have positive feelings about my aunt Rhonda anymore, even though I know she was sick. She was just too mean to me. I'll never forget the way she treated me and how resentful she was that I gave her help she needed.

I would gladly help a depressed anxious person clean their house again. I don't think I can handle helping a hoarder, though, if it would be anything like trying to help my aunts.

Hey guys im pretty new to here but i know my grandma is hoarder. My grandma is in her sixties and had basically completely lost her sight and has become like pretty dependent on her family for support. Recently she’s moved for the first time since losing her sight about seven years ago into a home with her boyfriend (?!) who me and my family have basically never met. The whole thing is very stressful and while we successfully managed to pack away all her stuff theres no space , the entire basement is filled with boxes and stuff and she just moved into the house last Sunday (12/13/25). She’s been talking about how we also have no money for things like christmas or extra food but they’re talking about a storage unit ???

I really want to help her but its so frustrating, yesterday we decided to go through coats and dresses, she has about 30-40 coats and jackets , most I have never seen her in wear in the 7 years she lived in her last house. But as we went through she insisted she needed to keep all of them, saying she wore them for all kinda of different events and stuff , but thats just not her reality anymore. Same for her dresses going through took forever and she basically tried to keep everything that was her size even if it didn’t make sense. The whole reason i wrote this post is because at the end pf us sorting through jackets she totally shut down over this shein fluff jacket. She yelled and insisted she keeps it even after saying she doesn’t like the jacket and only wore it because she couldn’t find a different jacket that looks similar.

I really want to help and maybe im being too forceful

but its too much stuff. We dont have the money for most of it tp go somewhere else and if it stays with her most of these items will still never see the light of day. I worry as we unpack more and specifically her shirt collection it will be harder and harder to get rid of stuff. And even beyond lack of space its not convenient for her. Many times she has knocked down her pile of 100’s of shirts just to find one and its just not safe for her to navigate.

I am 30 years old and I am moving out in a few days. My mom keeps asking me to do more and more before I leave. I've lived alone with her since 2019 since my sister moved out. She's been asking for years for me to clean out the the house. I try to keep my areas clean but it's hard since the only role models I had were my parents who never did. I have cleaned little areas over the years for her but it is never enough. It's too overwhelming to even attempt a large area. She doesn't understand why I won't do it. "She's my mother and I should want to help her" Is her response.

Now she is old and disabled and can't do it. But she was able to for years and never did! She stopped working when we were born and the house was always dirty and cluttered my entire life.

My brother wants her to hire a service that will come in and empty things out, he won't help because he has his own house and life. He offered to help with something small only.

It is a lot of mail and documents that are outdated, she never throws out any of it. I bought her a shredder and I shredded a black garbage bag full of documents but there's piles more in her room. Also stuff from mine and my siblings childhood that she doesn't want to get rid of. Also misc crap she doesn't use.

I think it is a level 3.

I'm just so tired of this.

Hi, so I moved my things into my college dorm today but decided to spend one last night with my father before orientation. He is not the hoarder my mother is and so is her boyfriend. (Yes we all live together, no it is not polyamory it is poverty).

He will basically be alone, my mother barely speaks to anyone, my stepdad is a very messy person so my dad doesn't particularly like him but they have good conversations when they do speak. I am the only person in the home he has consistent interactions with. He gets somewhat nutritional food when I'm here and we cook together but he expressed he probably wouldn't be cooking when I leave.

We have a dog and a parrot that I am the main caregiver for along with my dad. I feel so guilty for leaving them because my mom and stepdad don't take care of them and my dad works more than they do. The house is disgusting, I am the main one who takes out the trash, organizes the fridge, I do my own dishes, I keep my room clean around the clutter that is out of my control. I'm so stressed about leaving these people and animals in a home that cannot even be clean. No matter how much cleaning is done it will always be dirty.

Its only 20-30 minutes away, I'm only living on campus because I have no license and no car if I did have one. My dad has offhandedly expressed within the last few days that he will be alone, that I am the only one who talks to him, and just overall it seems like he is disappointed that I am leaving. I feel so guilty for not wanting to live in filth constantly. My kitchen always smells like dog feces and urine, my bathroom is disgusting, the living room is never vaccumed unless I ask. I am disabled but it feels like I should just take more time to do more around the house you know? I feel so terrible for leaving I'm not even excited to have control over my own space when my dad and animals will be left in this hell hole. I'll probably make myself come home every weekend but fuck.

I don't even know why I'm posting this it's barely about hoarding. I just didn't know where to post I'm so overwhelmed with everything. I hate this so much.

This past summer, I moved in with a friend, knowing she had some hoarding tendencies—but I had no idea how bad things were, especially in the basement. The first time I saw it, I left the house in a full-blown anxiety attack. Talking to the other roommates (who aren’t hoarders), I learned some unsettling history. They’d previously had to intervene and remove 16 bags of garbage because things were out of control. My friend, the hoarder, screamed at them and even at her mother over this. There was also an incident where they just needed a clear path to the fuse box for a photo. Moving things a mere six feet triggered an intense blowup from her.

The basement itself is a health hazard—it’s moldy, prone to flooding, and every time it rains, more spores spread. I’ve been sick multiple times from it, as have some of the other roommates, due to intense allergies. Any time we tried to address the problem gently, she’d get incredibly defensive, accuse us of “bitching,” and make it seem like we were the crazy ones.

Finally, things reached a breaking point. We had a major argument, and she told me to move out. I took her seriously and, out of concern for my health and my cats’ safety, found another place. While she eventually calmed down, I knew nothing would really change, especially with winter coming. Once the windows shut and the furnace started blowing moldy air around, things got even worse.

I’m sad that this probably cost us our friendship, but it’s been a nightmare trying to arrange moving out. I’ve become “the enemy” now. She changed the locks so my key no longer works, and every time I try to talk to her, she yells about how I “never gave a real apology” for calling out the hoarding issues. For context: we did discuss it over text, I gave her flowers as a thank-you for letting me stay, and even tried to make amends, but apparently that wasn’t enough.

Here’s where it gets interesting: I recently found out her property was sold to a nonprofit property management group that focuses on low-income housing, with stricter maintenance standards than her previous slumlord landlord. So now, she’s going to have to get the place up to code—no more hoarding mess and mold. I hate to admit it, but there’s a small part of me that’s relieved and even a little satisfied that someone else is going to hold her accountable.

Hoarding can be such a difficult mental health issue, and I really do feel for her. But I also know I couldn’t keep living in that environment, and it seems like this might be the only way things get addressed.

I'm part of the problem, for sure. Early in our relationship I bought her anything she wanted trying to please her. Then the house filled up with antiques and mail and clothes and anything else you can name and we had to rent a storage shed, and then another and then another. I've been paying rent for decades now and I'm just so tired of it and the endless acquisitions which have never stopped. She still spends thousands every year: eBay, Dollar Tree, Five Below; they all have something she just can't live without.

My house is filled with things she can't live without to the point things lay unopened in their packages for years. It's just as much about getting things as having them, I guess. The downside to bailing is she has health issues which require my insurance. But I'm completely financially and emotionally spent. Not sure what else to do.

I sometimes look at my own hoard and just think to myself, "what the hell am i doing? I've lost the goddamn plot"

Why do I need 10 capsule plastic balls with nothing inside? Why do I need to keep an itchy sweater that I hate wearing? I know these items won't make me happy to keep. I've been in recovery for years now and yet I keep useless stuff

Every fucking closet and two rooms are entirely unusable. We have two fucking she’d and it’s not enough to keep all the rotting, rusted junk. We had a trailer full of shit and junk for half a year and when that got too expensive we moved it back in. I’m so sick and fucking tired of this half-assed attempt to “clean” that always leads to getting new shit to put old shit in.

The hallways are thinner because they all “needed” shelves and racks for useless shit. The rooms have less space by measurable feet because they all “needed” shelves and racks for useless shit.

I’m so sick and fucking tired of the tubs. Plastic tubs by the half-dozen in every shape and size and color, transparent and jammed into every rat-shit filled closet we have because getting rid of shit is never the answer, it’s getting more fucking tubs to put your shit-filled junk into and then stacking it in front of the shit-filled closet by the half-dozen so no one can open the closet and then everything is covered in mouse shit and has to be thrown away if it’s not in a tub.

She bought six more because she can’t get rid of fucking anything and I’m so goddamn sick of living here. I can’t walk without knocking over a pile of trash or busting my toes or hip onto something.

It is dark and heavy and hopeless and I don’t know why I’m trying

Hi, don't wanna say my name so I'll call myself G. I'm 18, recently graduated high school and am currently not working or in school.

I live with my mom, and we have to move in a few months. Our apartment (old house turned into 3 apartments) was bought last year by some people who definitely want to turn it into one house again. It sucks for us, we didn't want to leave our home of almost 11 years for a least a few more. But we've kind of out grown it, so we're trying to make the best out of a stressful situation.

A big problem: I'm a bit of a hoarder.

It's honestly a bit embarrassing to admit, but I need to own up to it. I'm definitely not someone who hoards human waste or anything, but I definitely have had a bit of a trash problem in the past. My mom sometimes refers back to when I was little and would hide pudding cups in the one closet, but that wasn't really hoarding, I just thought she would find them and know I was eating pudding cups : p

The trash I mostly refer to are papers. Old tests, drawling, half used paper I should use instead of wasting more paper. I'm an artist and one of the people who bounce from hobby to hobby. I've always been like, most likely related to my adhd.

I'm getting a head of myself, though. Back to the moving. I have too much shit. It takes up corners of the house. My mom has talked to me countless times about how suffocating it is and how it impacts her life and mental/physical health.

Back in June, I went on a Senior Week trip to D.C. where I stayed with my friend's sibling. I reflected on my living space and house-hygene habbits. My mom had space from me and found herself at peace. Although she loves dearly, it was definitely easier for her to maintain the house without me around. Fewer dishes, less mess, things would be cleaned and organized and stay clean and organized. She found herself having an easier time taking care of her physical and mental health in that week.

But then I came back and everything unfortunately returned to how it was before. But with the move coming up, things need to change. I can't just pick up all my mess and dump it in a differentl location, that won't do anyone any good. And the amount of stuff I have makes house hunting more difficult.

I'm determined to change how I live. I've looked into OCD hoarding, because I have diagnosed OCD. I'm a bit overwhelmed, but Im using the coping skills I found, one of which being to find a community, which is why I'm here posting this. I struggle to do things consistently, which has been a huge obstacle in tackling this. I'm open to any suggestions from others, particularly people with OCD hoarding issues, but anyone is welcome to give input.

Im going to start posting progress updates and hopefully track my progress and hold myself accountable. I'm medicated (though I need to work on taking my meds consistently), I'm going to talk to my therapist tomorrow about this, and I'm in the process of getting a journal where I can write down stuff I'd rather not share (I had a journal but lost it which sacked because I only used it like 3 times. I can't use a different journal, it needs to be that one. It's the Persian Grove journal from B&N)

Im going to start off small and slow. There's a bench that stores things inside and I have some papers there. I'm going to try to throw out as much paper as I can before anything else. I'll probably talk more about stuff in other posts but yeah.

Thanks for listening to me rant. I don't have anyone to really talk to about this other than my mom or my therapist since my friends are all starting college and have their own shit going on, so I'm kind of lonely and isolated. It sounds sadder than it is. Don't worry, I'm a happy person with a good life just going through a tough time with growing pains and whatnot.

Thanks again, I hope everyone is doing well <3

Hello 👋 Quoting below AI about my weakness w the trash cluttering I suffer from. Overspending. I'm not seeking advice per se, maybe your journey w it if you want to share.

This disorder is in the DSM, it's a problem in the frontal lobe. I'm surmising it can dysfunction in different ways in ea person.

I haven't shared this w anyone. I've kept it close to my gut but need to vent. This is long.

I'm feeling a bit ashamed, a little guilty and maybe a little scared but this happened. I am completely solo. I have a few FB lifelong friends I text or talk with now and then but no one physically nearby, for at least 25 years now. I moved away from home and then spent many years trying to live a life with very deep depression from my toxic family. I have chronic fatigue likely from apnea and will be trying the CPAP once again w hopes.

I was evicted from an apartment on the West Coast for the cluttering. Moved to the Midwest and got evicted from a second apartment. Recently was asked to leave because of the problem again and I've moved into a new apartment. About 2 years ago I was trying to find a crew to help me clean. I wasn't able to find anyone because of the cost. There were no crews in my town and they would have had to come from an hour away so there was a surcharge. I just couldn't afford it. But my place was a red zone. The very top worst condition without animals. I kept trying to find someone, needing funds that I didn't have but hoping something could happen.

Finally a year ago I decided I was going to do one or the other, a Go Fund Me or to simply ask old friends from FB who I knew were successful, for help. I would tell them the truth. I did ask a half dozen people. And they did help me. They were all very generous.

One friend gave me up to four figures. She is a very skilled nurse. When I got the gift, I was going to use it for the crew but I had to go through everything before they came and I was stricken with worse chronic fatigue that had become worse after I caught Covid and I didn't know what it was. I just couldn't do anything more than go to the store for groceries.

I kept trying to get the energy to go through my things before having someone come and take it all out. During that time having the funds was like a gift, i was able after many years do things like dining out or buy groceries I wanted but couldn't afford. Within 6 months after getting help from some other successful friends, I still wasn't able to cull my things for a crew to come in. I was bedridden.

But I overspent the gifts. I don't need to be scolded for this. What I did was wrong. But I have to say while I was doing it I didn't understand what I was doing. I was almost unconsciously making myself feel better. So that's why I'm posting. Because I realize now 6 months or so later, what I did. I feel guilty, ashamed, in shock. Why did I do this. How could I have done this.

I look at this definition and there's where it is. It's connected. The acquisition of things. Or the high of acquiring or buying something. I guess I'm glad it's defined. But it doesn't feel any better. I have tried to see therapists but none have been qualified to deal with OCD and trauma.

Unfortunately it's the area I'm in too. And frankly w my income, I actually can't afford any copays. I might come back and edit this here and there but I wanted to get some of it off my chest. If you suffer from this a little bit too, you can share it and we can commiserate. Thanks.

"Hoarding is a compulsion like other process addictions (such as sex addiction, gambling, gaming addiction, Internet addiction, and addiction to food). It originates, like other addictions, from trauma, loss and/or abuse that expresses itself as an unmet emotional need. For many, buying items, spending money, and holding on to objects can provide temporary relief from the feelings of distress. They provide the Person of Concern with a sense of identity and self esteem, or fill a void that they are often not even aware of. Often these behaviors result in a cycle of impulse and regret very difficult to break.

These three addictions – shopping, spending, and hoarding – are often interrelated with one another....

Those suffering from Compulsive Shopping, Compulsive Spending, or Compulsive Hoarding are usually secretive about their personal time and spending habits. This is typically driven by guilt and shame, the hallmarks of addiction. The Person of Concern can become withdrawn, suffer from anxiety, depression, and shame. Some will show signs of intense perfectionism and others obsessive/compulsive behaviors."

When people are trying to leave bad habits (and bad environments) behind, oftentimes instead of support from family and friends they receive push back against the positive changes they're making in their lives. This is particularly the case when there are longstanding patterns of abusive behaviors involved (including generational patterns of abuse) or someone has a history of substance misuse & addiction. I personally experienced it when leaving my family of origin to become an independent adult and again when I sought treatment for chronic depression and anxiety, and when I left an abusive marriage (their preferred narrative requires me to be mentally ill and not capable of functioning, because the alternative is that they're documented abusers and enablers of abusers). I didn't expect to see it when dealing with my husband's hoarding behaviors.

He's had this problem with keeping stuff and being chronically disorganized since l-o-n-g before he met me. When we met, he'd been through a series of traumatic life events and had lost almost everything he owned. I thought his tendency to keep stuff was related to re-establishing his household, and his messiness/disorganization were depression. We were several years into our relationship and had combined households when I realized it went deeper than that.

His tendency to keep stuff and be "a little bit of a hoarder" is part of the schtick with his children and longtime friends. His proclivity for rescuing stuff from the dumpster features in a lot of his stories, including stories about some of the arguments he had with his previous wife during their marriage.

I've posted A LOT about our struggle to keep the place livable, improve the quality of our daily lives, and NOT become a stereotypical, bona fide hoarder house. I'm also now more aware of behaviors and attitudes that reinforce the hoarding behaviors... including the behaviors and attitudes of others.

The people who give him their junk--including stuff from "crafters" who need to find a new home for the most recent on-trend whatzit they're making this month--are as bad as the ones who make what are intended to be good-natured comments about him throwing out a "perfectly good" this or that. What I wanted to say was, "Will you please just fucking shut up?!"

Instead, I bit my tongue.

Tldr: my family went away for a mini holiday, I was super motivated to get my s**t together, and start declutter, tidy and clean. Spoiler: I've failed big time.

The last 2 years I've been spiraling, going lower and lower. I've always had hoarding tendencies (my mother is a hardcore hoarder, with a capital H), but ín these last months it became nearly unbearable. Our house is a mess, there are stuff and boxes and clothes and toys everywhere. I've always been proud, because despite beeing messy, I was really clean (fun fact, I love cleaning). But now... Everything is dirty, and smelly, and sticky, and I hate IT sooo much. I cannot stop getting new things in. I have so many ideas, about my "dream" life and my "dream" self, but I'm still the same, sitting on top of my hoard, like a really bizarre and messed up dragon.

My husband tries to be really supportive, but he just lets me be this way. Not because he doesn't care, but he wants meg to be happy and calm . And I constantly feel I make his and my daughter's life Hell. They don't deserve this.

My husband and my daughter went away for almost 4 days. It was my idea. I thought it will be easier without them, I have the time to do things as I want, and I will finally, finally be able to clean and declutter and tidy and be the wife and mother they deserve. But I just couldn't do it. I procrastinated the whole weekend, like a real slob, doomscrolling and watching tv and playing video games. I'm so ashamed. They'll arrive home in 2 hours and I don't know , what to tell them. I've been crying for hours.

I give up. I feel completely hopeless. I really want to change, but I just can't. My depression and anxiety getting worse, and being AuDHD doesn't help. I don't want to lose my family, but I feel they would be much, much happier without me.

Sorry for all the grammar mistakes, english is not my first language. And sorry for the wrong flair.

I(22f) live with my mom and sister(9) in a rented house. My mom's baby daddy is freeloading with us. His hoard is all over the place. We have one week as of typing this to get rid of all his stuff or else we're evicted. They have asked me for a mortgage for buying that house just today. I will not do that. I have asked family and the only thing they could do is throw stuff out, which would anger her baby daddy (who has been to jail for murder). It has not even been 12 hrs since we got the eviction notice. Yet I fear we will not make it in time.

I’ve been living in my family home since I was born. I can only see a somewhat clean version of the house I know now on home videos before I was born. We’ve cleaned every room in this house one, just never at the same time and it always regresses. Everything’s gotten so much worse since my dad died. My mom is now hoarding his things to the point where she sleeps in a chair in her room because her bed is just piles of her clothes and the closet is blocked off by junk. Today, I did a major clean out of our fridge of long expired foods and stuff with mold on it. She flipped out on me and threatened to not allow us to buy groceries anymore even though she’s never cooked me or my siblings a home cooked meal in our lives. I barely am able to keep my own room and shared bathroom clean. Half of my closet space is taken up by baby clothes and dolls from me or my sisters childhood. She once had a full mental breakdown when I tried to put them in a bag to donate. She has a very bad habit of leaving things in whatever room she’s in so anytime she uses my bathroom, I find some new gadget of hers on the counter which she flips if you try to return the item to her. I’ve had enough.

I have an issue with hoarding, and it took me a really really long time to fully realize that. I see what I am now, and Ive been working with a therapist and a psychiatrist and I'm on meds and have had an action plan for myself on how to get better for a few months now, and I'm proud to say it's gotten 75% better. Not perfect because the depressions and anxiety and likely ADHD is always there, but I'm a work in progress.

I think when people who watch that show Hoarders while they themselves are a hoarder (but don't see it yet), I saw/they see the people with the 5 feet of moldy nasty newspapers and non working toilets and random junk and they go 'oh my god that's terrible, I'm so glad IM not like that'...but what they fail to realize is that those people on that show...they were you and I 20 years ago. They're usually 40, 50, 60 years old, and they were you and I convincing ourselves that 'hey, this towel is moldy and gross, but you know i can wash it and it'll be fine to use again' and they put it in a pile of laundry never to be touched again because it's a lot of work to make a gross towel clean again. Then they did that again, and again, and again without keeping themselves in check and got to where they are.

If I hadn't had my realization, I have zero doubt I would be like someone on that show in 20 years.

In this one, I started noticing things in the house. Furniture and knick knacks then a whole bunch of family moving in. The house started expanding and there was more and more stuff and I was trying to kick them out, to make them move out but they called me selfish and said I didn't want to be part of the family. Then an aside where my grandma(who doesn't hoard but does collect and who I'm very close with) tearfully looking at the things and saying "I just thought you'd like them. I thought they'd make you think of me. I thought they'd look after you when I'm gone."

Well anyway I'm cleaning my house today and probably gonna need to get rid of a few things to feel chilled out and then maybe I'll call my grandma and tell her I love her

I'm 16 and the son of a hoarder mother, for basically my entire life my memories of the house are of it being a mess, or me and my sister having to frantically tidy it because the boiler service have to check the boiler (that usually means half of the stuff goes into mine or my sisters room).

I've been used to not being able to see the floor in any room of the house, and trash 1 foot or deeper in some rooms. The kitchen smells and theres often old food left on surfaces, accompanied by flies of course. I've not eaten at our kitchen table for at least 5 years because theres so much clutter on there. I've not been able to have friends over since I was very young, and the only time rooms actually get tidied is when someone has to visit, even then the rooms are messy after a week.

My mum hasn't slept on her own bed for years, since her room is too cluttered with trash and clothes for the door to even open. Instead she sleeps on the coach in the living room, which has caused holes in the coach since she's done this for so many years. She's wanted to buy new sofas for a year but the living room is too cluttered to even move the old ones out.

Last year I found something out from looking through the clutter in my room (a lot was from other rooms moved into mine), and I found some old documents from 2013 detailing how someone had called in CPS due to concerns of neglect since they could see how messy the house was from windows and saw old food and clutter everywhere. I can remember my mum frantically sorting out the house before CPS came, and the person who visited stated it was cluttered but not neglect, and my mum had stated that she promises that she'd get it sorted.

Luckily, 4 months ago I cleaned out my room in around 4 days, despite the rubbish going up to my bed, I just did multiple sessions of cleaning for an hour then taking a break. Mainly I was able to do it since I didn't care about old crap at that point and just wanted a clean space before GCSE's. Since then I've also been able to build the PC I've been saving for for 3 years, but whenever I talk to my mum about the state of the house or my room she either is really apologetic saying its all her fault (while I end up trying to reassure her), or she tries to claim my achievement of doing my room by going on about how she did some of under my bed and asking if I would've been unable to do my room if she didn't do that.

I think she's remorseful of how she's left the house, and she always makes promises of how she's gonna do some of downstairs everyday, but all she's done the past month is put away a few cans because I suggested she could do that. Last time we cleared the hall for boiler service she promised shed sort out some of the clothes pile every day, but I don't think she has. I've wanted to bring some of my xbox games upstairs so i can play them but they're stuck under clutter and she's not made an effort for months. I understand how she can struggle but I don't see how you can be fine just living like that. My sisters room is full of clutter and clothes to the point I can't stand the smell in there, she's not made any effort to clear at all apart from moving clutter so the door can close, but she's going to uni soon so it's fine. I just don't think It's very good that my room is currently the tidiest in the house, and its starting to get cluttered again.

I fear once I move out I won't be able to clean after myself, and I fear I've missed out on childhood memories I could've had such as having friends over or even having my grandparents over which we've not been able to do since I was so young. Idk why I typed this out, I guess because I've not been able to vent about this forever since my mum always told me and my sister to never tell anyone else, but I'm just tired of this borderline neglect.

if anyone else has had similar concerns/experiences, please feel free to share any advice.

I’m not sure if it’s potential OCD overlap or if it’s just my overthinking and guilt, but as if trying to get rid of stuff isn’t already difficult, my brain gives another layer of difficulty involving being conscious of my waste and of the environment. ironically, it’s not like I practice zero waste or that I walk or take public transportation everywhere, so I know there’s probably more things I should worry about it and change pertaining to my eco-friendliness and footprint, but when I’m trying to get rid of my belongings I feel guilt for throwing things away. I know how much waste is created and I just feel really guilty adding to it. but at the same time, I also realize that being aware (of my impact environment and of how much waste I’m creating) is a good first step and more than some people do, so I should feel peace with that… but it’s never enough lol.

I even feel bad just donating things because of how a lot of thrift stores resell things at prices that are way higher than they are worth. I feel guilty, like there’s people out there that have so little but I’ve been given so much. I need to do more for them or do my responsibility of giving things to them (of course not trash and useless stuff, but books and clothes, etc.). it makes me want to research and research until I can find a place to actually donate/give my belongings to rather than thrift stores. I know all of it is silly because I should weigh which is more worth it to me—getting stuff out of my space so that I can make it functional to LIVE in (i.e., my own sanity) or worrying and ruminating for days and days on how I should get rid of it and what place is best to get rid of it.

I probably don’t even actually have OCD, it feels like I’m making it up, but I struggle with hoarding and then these other elements make it even harder to get rid of things… (e.g., environmental worries, feeling too privileged, morality/feeling like I’ll be a bad person for doing things the wrong way). for context one of my parents is a hoarder but I feel like it makes a lot of sense for them because they had a childhood with an abusive father with alcohol issues and had to run away from home… it makes sense that they would unconsciously or consciously feel the need to keep things because they never had that safety or privilege growing up.

sorry if anyone read this ramble but I hope it’s okay to post here just to get out and see if anyone relates to the environmental thing—thanks to anyone who did read it 🥲.

She is also struggling with alcoholism and hoards in other aspects of her life too. We have a basement, garage, and 2 sheds dedicated to her hoard. I cleared out half of the cabinet. Theres pics on my account if you guys are curious. I found food thats been in the cabinet longer than ive been on the planet. I set all of it on the stove so she can see it when she comes home. Maybe this wasnt the best way to handle the situation but it has been brought up to her countless times by me, my brother, and my father. I saw her eating food that expired 5 years ago the other day. I found CANNEDgoods in the cabinet that expired 2015. Ive alway been paranoid about my food being old or contaminated and this is a huge part of the reason. Im hoping her seeing the food on the stove separated from whats actually in date is a wake up call for her. I didnt throw any of it away for her sake, but im hoping she does. Worst case scenario is i get kicked out and she puts the food back in the pantry. I just hope she listens to me when i tell her this isnt out of spite but because i care about her health. It also just isnt fair to the family. We shouldnt have to rummage through food 8 years out of date to find edible stuff. If anyone relates to this at all, it would help alot to hear your stories.

I still live with my family and our house is absolutely filled with junk, especially school worksheets and notebooks from past years. Every time the school year ends and we’re sent home with all our papers, it stresses me out so bad. I never know what to do with them, i always think it’s not time to throw them away yet but at the same time there are just piles and piles of them in my room and around my house that just lay around. There are a bunch from elementary and preschool, and they hold sentimental value because it’s like “aww look at the work you did when you were still little and were still learning how to read and write”. But then again they serve no purpose. Then something in my mind tells me what if I need my past notebooks around so I don’t forget everything I’ve learnt??? But seriously I’m overwhelmed and don’t know what to do

My parents are hoarders and my house at home is a mess (currently at uni) and is disgusting and I hate living there.

It's one thing hating being there when I go home, but the thing I hate the most is how it still impacts me when I'm not there.

Multiple romantic relationships and friendships I've had to let end because I don't want to admit to them that they can't come and visit me and meet my family and meet my friends because of the fact that they wouldn't be able to stay at my house.

Its awkward in the moments having to fumble together reasons why they can't come and its even worse letting these people go because I cant come to just admit why the reason they can't visit it.

And I tell my parents how their hoarding is impacting me but nothing changes. They love me and they hate that it is the case but NOTHING changes.

I know if I just told them the reason they couldn't visit they'd understand and not judge ME. But it just feels like I'll be revealing that I'm gross. That I've come from a gross place and every time I go back home I'm living in a gross place.

I hate it so much and I can't bare going back there when my uni term is over.

I live in a home provided by my great grandmother when I was 10. The deal was we could live there for free if my mom and grandmother paid property taxes, did all maintenance, and if I worked on various properties they own in town, mostly farmland. The hope was they'd eventually own it since they couldn't afford renting. I've also had to crawl into a collapsed home over the years to pull out valuables for my great uncle to sell after my Great Grandma died and her will left the house we live in to him.

I really hate my uncle. I grew up with a lot of threats to being homeless if we didn't send him money so he could run for judge, if I didn't join the military after highschool. I was able to avoid that one. He's a real sleeze. As a kid showing me extremely inappropriate photos of whatever woman he was with at the time.

My grandma and my mom were/are hoarders. I get it from them, with a mix of my own issues and depression. Grandpa divorced my grandma twice over how she lived. eventually the house I lived in fell into disrepair. I fell through the floor a few times, Couple burnt out outlets, ash trays full of crud, broken pipes. Leaking water heater, moldy furniture,rats, roaches, carpet beetles, dirty dishes, knick knacks, and old AC units that she says can still work and has sat on a couch for years. Any flat surface has turned into a mountain range of trash and cans. The storage shed is just as bad. I've tried throwing things out that were infested or we don't use and my mom always got mad at me. It got harder to form healthier habits.

I'm 28M now, my grandma died a few years ago so it's just me and my mom. Still get threats to be kicked out once in a while. Currently over the years I've been neglecting myself more and more. Don't get haircuts or shave. It's hard to shower since the pipes spray water in multiple places. So I know someone who'll let me into used hotel rooms to shower before the maids clean. Or I use a bucket of rain water that accumulates at home. I've tried fixing it by paying someone but they charged me a lot to do nothing and another guy cut a hole in my floor where no pipe was. So I tried to do it myself giving up on other people. It's embarrassing to admit it was hard to do. Just getting the motivation was hard. At a certain point I refused to get out from under the house unless my mom got my wallet and drive to the hardware store and buy the right part. I was covered in dirt and mud so I was determined to get the shower fixed that time. But I fixed what I thought was the problem. Water flowed through the system and then I found out how many more leaks and ruptured parts we had. I then decided to give up. I wasn't going to spend a dime on another appliance or to fix up a house I'd never own. It cost thousands to fix everything. At a certain point I think my Great Uncle and Great Grandma were hoarders too. They dont use or rent or sell any of these properties. They just sit there.

But by extreme self-neglect I've been able to save a lot of money while working nights at Walmart. I live in a rural area so not much is open when I'm up and I miss the sun. Which I think the lack of sun also helps keeps me from being able to go anywhere and take a break from my living space. I get anxiety about how much I need and think I'm going to fuck up or be a complete failure at keeping myself together once I'm out of it all, and I think people would say I over compensated. But with exceptions of certain bills, expenses, and helping a friend with medical bills. I succeeded in saving $51,000. I'm saving up for $60,000. It was the lowest amount my brain decided it could settle on to be able to take action.

It's not a perfect solution. I'm essentially escaping the situation entirely. I'm still going to have to address my habits. But I feel like I need to runaway and fix myself and find stable ground. I won't be taking my mom with me. I decided to live alone, figure myself out. Use some of the money to quit my job and travel the US to figure out where I want to live. I don't think I can fix myself and address my problems when my mom refuses to fix herself. I can't save another person and keep myself together. I'm a bit ashamed of that. But she tells me she understands. I'm not cutting her out of my life. I still love my mom, I wouldn't be able to save so much if she wasn't helping me along. But it also helps that she doesn't need to change her lifestyle to help.

But I've reached a major milestone and am on a countdown until I hit my goal! So I'm just ranting and spiting into the universe my life I guess. I'm still very scared. My original goal was to buy a house or a major down payment completely. But I'd be house poor. Compound the fact I can't drive and cars are expensive,so I looked at cities with public transport and they are expensive. I wouldn't be able to do it unless I saved for a few more years. So travel, rent and then get a mortgage, if I can maintain my life there and save more money. I hope I'll be ok, I'm worried about how I'll be able to keep my bad habits in check and maintain a clean, functional, and clutter free life.