(no subject)
My parents aren't hoarders, but they are. You know what I mean. Not in the "diagnosable" sense. Not in the "I could be on an embarrassing reality TV show" way... but they are. Enough to cross over the borderline of what is "normal" and "what isn't."
I forced them (because I'm 24 years old and living with my parents... [yeah, who has the bigger problem here]) to clean it all out. I spent today going through the bulk of bullshit in the garage and came across a stack of canvas. I started sifting through it and asked my mom what it was. She moaned uninterested. "Throw it away." "Mom, what is this?" "I took an art class once." There may have been a hundred of them. I may have saved 50.
Earlier I found a silver cardboard box. "Mom, what is this?" "Uh... it's a box of love letters from James." James is my step-dad. "Please, don't ever read them."
My mom and I are the same person.
I forced them (because I'm 24 years old and living with my parents... [yeah, who has the bigger problem here]) to clean it all out. I spent today going through the bulk of bullshit in the garage and came across a stack of canvas. I started sifting through it and asked my mom what it was. She moaned uninterested. "Throw it away." "Mom, what is this?" "I took an art class once." There may have been a hundred of them. I may have saved 50.
Earlier I found a silver cardboard box. "Mom, what is this?" "Uh... it's a box of love letters from James." James is my step-dad. "Please, don't ever read them."
My mom and I are the same person.