HOARDING – My Own Shrink

I think, on average, people tend to be hoarders more than the opposite. Whether you are a hoarder depends on a definition of when the hoarding starts to be obstructive, impeding.

My hoarding is impeding. It’s been clear to me for a long time I need to do something about it. My belongings take up more space than what’s my home. I dumped a few things at my mother-in-law’s and I used to have a storage at my grandmother’s before my mother claimed that space and showed me the door. Now, most of that is in my basement.

I’ll skip the details for those of you who can relate. The ones who cannot – you probably don’t read this. Continue reading A little hoarder

I wasn’t in too good a mood to start with.

My mother called by yesterday to check in on me and my (ill) children. It all looked it’d go for the better. She held my baby for me so I could go to the bathroom (for two days my girl was clinging to me any given second, even during sleep). She was playing with my son, we talked a little and then she declared she must go. Okay … my face fell. I was a bit clingy myself.
I fear to be alone with my children. I feel I’m not enough to keep them occupied, not caring enough to discern their needs, not motherly enough to enjoy spending time with them. I like someone to be around so they can step in if I screw up. So … Continue reading The tornado, so-called Mum