My mother is a hoarder. I've been able to clean up most of the house, but there is one room that is a major stronghold. Today I invaded that room. There was mouse poop everywhere. It was dry, so may be from days gone by. But knowing there is such a filthy room in the house makes my skin crawl. I brought it up with my mother and she just shrugged it off.
This is such a problem with hoarding. Is there disease lurking in the back room? Yuck. Before I got here, the two rooms that I live in now had been hoarded. We had to hire someone to clear them. There was mouse poop and food remnants everywhere here, too. Fortunately, no more mice. Yesterday my mother was talking about how they had just closed off these two rooms after my little brother left 30 years ago and had just used them for storage. She talked like it is what everyone does. I just said, "Mom, that's not normal." I wanted to say that I knew she was just too lazy to try to keep things clean.
We've been having some house work done this week and I've taken the opportunity to un-hoard several carloads of stuff. Donated! I try to be calm, but I realize that I am spending my life trying to undo 60+ years of lazy. I get so angry. That makes me feel bad.
Last week Mom's PCP suggested she see a geriatric psychiatrist to help her with her chronic anxiety. It has been a lifelong thing that has gone untreated except for pill popping. I'm sure her doctor also wanted to address the depressive OCD symptoms. My mother got extremely offended and doesn't want to see the doctor anymore. She later told me, "I'm not crazy!" I wanted to tell her if there was a poster child for crazy, then she would be it.
Pondering and dreading the mouse poop war that I know lies ahead.