Notes From the Downsizer's Nest:

Notes from the Nest:

Common Characteristics of "Pack-Rats"- 

(in no Particular Order.) 

Note: These descriptions can be telltale signs of Mental Illness: OCD,  Depression, etc, and other physiological degenerative disease. Alzheimers, Dementia in general.

• Denial and Resistance to change
• Obsession with Minutiae
• Complete blindness to overall ( mess) disarray but will fixate on things like arrangement of art on a wall or objects on a shelf
• Does not get rid of things that no longer serve them on any practical basis.
• Has clothing that does not fit, stashed away, in graduated sizes, for years.
• Holds onto mounds of their children’s clothing
• Holds onto mounds of papers, of all sorts: newspapers, old bills, cancelled checks, etc
• Can sleep in a bed, having mounds of mixed items and their pets sleeping with them, night after night: this is called the “Rats Nest”
• Mildew, Mold, Cobwebs and Dust is not an issue, although they might complain about it.
• Every room might look alike because each room has the same piles of boxes and stuff (extreme cases)
• Surfaces are unattended: countertops, shelves, tables, desk, bed, and on.
• Lots of small framed photos on many surfaces. Too many to focus on. Used as decoration.
• Obsession with “keepsakes” as if they are the event where they came from, itself.
• Full Suitcases with tiny scraps of things in them, clothes, medicine, forgotten for weeks, months or years.
• Duplicates of many items…lost track of posessions
• Old Rotting Food in Fridge and Cabinets
• General shoving of things to the back of cabinets, closets and piling on top of surfaces and shelves
• Resistance to moving things out that are no longer useful or are in bad condition
• Collecting of things, for the sake of collecting stashing them here and there. No specific interest in what is collected, just that things have “value” in their mind, for whatever emotional reason, and perhaps buy them because they know they have true market value but hold onto them, and never liquidate.

Memory Trash, Let it Go for 2014!

Accumulation is the cause of much suffering. Suffering is caused by the "holding" onto. Events happened. The accumulation of personal history. Our emotional, mental and physical being reflect all events, regardless of good or bad, happy or sad. We squish and squash our emotions, "stuff" hurt and quell happiness, for survival, to get through the days. There's a "pay-off" to this, regardless of how it affects our lives in the now. Some of us re-live events on a daily or momentary basis whether it occurred today or years ago, by over dramatizing, embellishing what actually happened, adding drama. The "What Happened" is no longer what is important.  Whether it's the morning traffic, abuse we suffered at the hands of some bad person, the pain of loss of a loved one, an in-completion of a love affair, it all builds up and has an effect. To be free of it, It takes mindfulness. How are we making ourselves miserable? Who is contributing to this? Re-directing our intention, being willing to "Let Go" is key to moving forward.  We are not history. We are also not our Stuff. 
Unless a person has done a mental, emotional and physical purging of personal belongings, i.e. their "Stuff", and has come to terms that he or she is absolutely not not IT..."Stuff", most of us are caught up in the history, or the emotional satisfaction, dysfunction or not, that "Stuff" can bring. 
Like the woman who frantically rifled through a trash bag of junk (my definition) that I had filled with her permission ( she had hired me to do this, ) while cleaning her office, exclaiming how "this plastic beer cup was from a rock concert in 1978", ( broken, faded, illegible, to me,) WAS the event...many items in her home had become the event in her life that made her "whole" again! 
Compulsive behavior is like filling emotional holes and "Stuff," for some, is a way of finding self worth, fulfillment, feelings of satisfaction, and for some is a compulsive habit. Memory can be a powerful addiction.
I work with all people, regardless of how much stuff they have, to help them move out of the realm of "Stuff" into the reality of their lives-to go forward. 
The clients who really need the help, again says I ( the packrats), if they call me on their own accord, are the ones who have seen a glimpse of the dysfunction. They are brave. Most clients are ready to move forward to their next home and stage in life and are looking forward to leaving the "stuff" behind. 

Letting Go Without Losing Touch

Letting Go Without Losing Touch


My dad died July 16, 2008. Congestive Heart Failure. Over the last 5 years of his life he would comment that IT was "a slippery slope."



I was grieving before he died and I'm still grieving, which might or might not be 'normal' by someone else's standards, but for me it is what it is. I'm dealing with it.



It creeps up on me several times a day. Today I was struggling to screw a hook into a sinker in a brick wall, to hold a bracket for a lamp, a "hickey" (dad word,) and in my frustration at the prospect of having yet one more thing to get done around here, I heard in my brain," I'll fik it", (dad term said in light-hearted determination when faced with a broken or 'not-right thing'.)



This is my grieving, and when it happens it makes me want to exhale, (vomit) my sadness. But I suck it up and keep on keeping on. Just like I've been taught to do. No time to sit and cry and feel bad. The "whim-whams" have to be overcome. Just go forward. Survive this recession. Go get business!



Dad was the one who had a "Never Give Up" poster on his office wall, years past, when life had become very tough for he and my mom. She credits herself with getting him out of bed many mornings, which I believe. That poster was just a backup.



With his illness, it annoyed him, to put it lightly, to feel himself becoming weak. He would exclaim "Well, Hell, there's nothing wrong with me!" when I'd stupidly insinuated he should put his feet up or ask if there was something I could do for him. Eventually, he came to terms with it.

What choice did he have...



My clients, many of them seniors, are suffering through the loss of a spouse or other VIP, and have been through what I am going through many times in the past, no doubt.

I can appreciate this more now. Death is harsh.



When I work with them to downsize their personal belongings and move them forward to their next home. I ask them to "let go" of their stuff, the things that are outdated, not useful any longer, worn out, and sometimes they leave behind the good things, which I take to charity or sell for them.



Letting go of belongings is also letting go of the emotional attachment to it. I have sat through stories and tears with more than one client. I cajole and do my best to keep them on track. Sometimes they rear up in resistance, get angry, blame me for their situation, but eventually we move on.



The death of my father is the precursor to my mother's downsizing. She decided for several reasons, including health, to move in with my sister and brother in law and my 13 year old nephew. There she can have her own suite and as close to a normal family life as is possible. She's in the midst of the downsizing and packing process, and seems to be managing it well, and has not asked me for my assistance, since, after all- she trained me...



I just came back from my parent's house, with, among several inherited treasures, my dad's special mid-century chair. He and mom purchased it in 1956 right after they married, with other special, very " hip" furnishings which they brought to their tiny town in central PA. Dad also purchased the first Chevrolet Corvette ever to grace the roads of that beautiful valley, in 1954.



(He was interested in innovation and progress, not willing to settle for Victorian" fluff"; the stuff of his mother and her sisters.)



This chair is an icon of that era and a symbol that I relate directly to him and my childhood. As a little kid, I would lie on my back on the ottoman and twirl around observing the geography of the ceiling, deep in thought, wondering what it would be like to walk on the ceiling and wondering why I couldn't.



That chair seems strange and foreign here in my home. I walk into the room and subconsciously ignore it, in denial that it is empty of him, I guess. An adjustment I'm going through, like squinting to see in the dark. Last night I sat in it, closed my eyes and observed being there. Quietly, for once.



Staying in touch with my history, my memories, while being present to my present is a challenge.