Have you ever seen that show Hoarders? It’s quite an appalling show at first glance. People have literally buried themselves in filth; old newspapers, take-out food from 1996, dead cats.
I’ve watched this show and thought, Oh good God. HOW does that HAPPEN?!
But not too long ago, it hit me: I’m a hoarder.
Don’t worry, I don’t have my pet hamster from 3rd grade (Rose Bud – what a name for a brown piece of fur) somewhere under my bed. I can walk easily from one room of my home to another. I’m married to a minimalist, so really, a divorce would come before a hoarding situation.
I’m not a hoarder of tangible, material items, but of shoulds and obligations. I constantly bring new obligations and I should(s) into my life, even if I don’t need them or want them, or worse yet, when I can’t handle them (due to aforementioned hoarding.)
Join a club? Sure.
I should volunteer more.
I hang on to relationships that don’t fulfill me. I mean, that’s what “good” people do, right?
I have trouble asking for help. Not on a I-can’t-stop-drinking scale. More like a, I-need-help-with-making-dinner scale.
And then? I can’t let go. I don’t have the take-one-let-one-go mentality. I’ve felt buried and attached to obligations and shoulds that should (see, there I go again) be easy to let go of.
Just like a hoarder you see on TV.
I know I’m not the exception. I’ll make a sweeping generalization when I assume that most women are like this. We like to please people and we care what other people think about us.
For what would happen if someone (who didn’t know our entire story/filled-to-the-brim planner) thought we were a failure?! Or a quitter?!
Oh, I’m certain the sky would certainly fall.
Or then again, would it?