I’m not sure what started the following conversation. “Hoarding” was the topic – people who can’t throw things away. Letting piles of items grow and grow in your closets, garages, basements and elsewhere, to the point where someone else comes in, visits and wonders, “What the heck is going on with this person?”
I remember back at the turn of the 21st century (Y2K folks, remember that?) and we lived in Columbus, NE. In our neighborhood, there was an old AMC Gremlin (yup, what a name for a car, huh?) one block away from our house parked on the street. An old guy lived there.
Curiously, one day I looked inside the car because you could see things piled up against the window. “What the heck is in there?”
It turns out, a LOT. Mostly newspapers, but also cans and clothes and other stuff. Piles and piles, to the point where you realized something weird was going on, and that this individual NEVER drove a passenger since another human being couldn’t fit anywhere inside.
At that moment in collective world history, I’m not sure I’d ever heard about the hoarding syndrome – where people stockpile things that they can’t seem to throwaway (for whatever reason).
One important lesson in life that most of us learn, but not everyone, is that you must throw away things you don’t need. Nostalgia value doesn’t matter. Utility value does. You must make a decision.
If you don’t, your closet, garage or basement comes back to claim you. They get so packed with things you don’t use that you can’t find the clothes you want (closet), can’t park the car inside (garage) or do laundry (basement).
Recently during my morning workout routine, a trusty friend who always has great stories, weighed in with his own when I raised this subject. He laughed and related a tale with his son.
He mentioned he hoards two things: jackets and fishing lures. Both accumulate exponentially. He gets rid of them and soon thereafter the stash morphs like an amoeba splitting. Cut off the head and the body grows.
Enter his son. They take on the mission of reduction. His son does not appear to have the accumulation/hoarding gene.
They go to the closet. His son: “When was the last time you wore this?”
“Last year.”
“Gone. How about this jacket?”
“Uh, a couple of years ago.”
“Toss it.”
Things went on like this, slinging away all those little-used jackets. Then came the fishing lures.
“When’s the last time you caught a walleye with this one?”
“Never. I was thinking about getting rid of it.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know. Always the hope the next walleye isn’t so bright.”
“Lose it. What about this one?”
“That one I got for my 21st birthday. I can’t get rid of that.”
“Sure you can. Do it.”
And so on. The process continued. Unused items got tossed and piles shrank. All to the good. You have to break the bond, let go. My buddy knew this.
Yet, and yet. Lurking is the potential for a return as new items replenish your stock. For lone-term success, you must resist this.
As my buddy jokingly stated, “a year later I was facing the same issue again.”
Sometimes you can use a logical plan to reduce the hoarding, like he did. You can also use the replacement method: “if something comes into the closet, something must exit the closet.” This works.
It comes down to decisions. Make them. Stick to them. Don’t look back. But save your dad’s baseball jacket because some day you might need it.
I remember back at the turn of the 21st century (Y2K folks, remember that?) and we lived in Columbus, NE. In our neighborhood, there was an old AMC Gremlin (yup, what a name for a car, huh?) one block away from our house parked on the street. An old guy lived there.
Curiously, one day I looked inside the car because you could see things piled up against the window. “What the heck is in there?”
It turns out, a LOT. Mostly newspapers, but also cans and clothes and other stuff. Piles and piles, to the point where you realized something weird was going on, and that this individual NEVER drove a passenger since another human being couldn’t fit anywhere inside.
At that moment in collective world history, I’m not sure I’d ever heard about the hoarding syndrome – where people stockpile things that they can’t seem to throwaway (for whatever reason).
One important lesson in life that most of us learn, but not everyone, is that you must throw away things you don’t need. Nostalgia value doesn’t matter. Utility value does. You must make a decision.
If you don’t, your closet, garage or basement comes back to claim you. They get so packed with things you don’t use that you can’t find the clothes you want (closet), can’t park the car inside (garage) or do laundry (basement).
Recently during my morning workout routine, a trusty friend who always has great stories, weighed in with his own when I raised this subject. He laughed and related a tale with his son.
He mentioned he hoards two things: jackets and fishing lures. Both accumulate exponentially. He gets rid of them and soon thereafter the stash morphs like an amoeba splitting. Cut off the head and the body grows.
Enter his son. They take on the mission of reduction. His son does not appear to have the accumulation/hoarding gene.
They go to the closet. His son: “When was the last time you wore this?”
“Last year.”
“Gone. How about this jacket?”
“Uh, a couple of years ago.”
“Toss it.”
Things went on like this, slinging away all those little-used jackets. Then came the fishing lures.
“When’s the last time you caught a walleye with this one?”
“Never. I was thinking about getting rid of it.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know. Always the hope the next walleye isn’t so bright.”
“Lose it. What about this one?”
“That one I got for my 21st birthday. I can’t get rid of that.”
“Sure you can. Do it.”
And so on. The process continued. Unused items got tossed and piles shrank. All to the good. You have to break the bond, let go. My buddy knew this.
Yet, and yet. Lurking is the potential for a return as new items replenish your stock. For lone-term success, you must resist this.
As my buddy jokingly stated, “a year later I was facing the same issue again.”
Sometimes you can use a logical plan to reduce the hoarding, like he did. You can also use the replacement method: “if something comes into the closet, something must exit the closet.” This works.
It comes down to decisions. Make them. Stick to them. Don’t look back. But save your dad’s baseball jacket because some day you might need it.