Djolly Djolan's story

Perspective of a Loved One

I grew up in a very cosy home that at some point in my teen years deteriorated into some very nasty three level squalor. Moved to an apartment with my mother and have been here ever since. The apartment started out lovely, really. Unfortunately when we moved we brought along with us, between the two of us, PTSD, Depression, Suicidal ideation, Self Injury, general anxiety, panic attacks, the list goes on and on, We brought alot more baggage than you would have thought possible to our new home. Not surprisingly more STUFF came in as well, more pets came into it, and it got just as bad as our house did before. Probably not a big shock to most people here.

It scared me. My own problems honestly don't center around physical squalor. In fact I'm actually a neat freak and our home intensified my own anxiety. I am the polar opposite of my mother in how we like an environment. I like emptiness, lack of clutter, cleanliness, monochromatic colour schemes and the smell of bleach. heh. I like a place spotless and stuff free. It made it hard for me to even function at times because well, the noise in my own head only feels amplified by a cluttered and distracting environment. You can tell how upset I am by how fanatically I insist on a clean & clear environment.

My mother doesn't LIKE squalor but she likes her stuff and her issues manifest oppositely of mine by filling her environment ever more full with things and refusing to get rid of objects.

You can see it was one long drawn out train wreck that just kept piling up between us and in our home.

My attacks on the situation started -years- ago. I tried many things. I empathise with many of the people I read about on Friends of Hoarders & Friends of Messies Groups.
I spent hours cleaning only to have it all undone rapidly, or a joyful response to it of "now we can put MORE stuff there!"
I faced unrealistic expectations about how much time it took to do housework.
There were promises that housework and maintenance and decluttering would happen.
I blocked off whole weekends and offered to help my mom and these became some of the absolutely most frustrating experiences I've had with her, probably bar none, because she would simple churn through her possessions. We would spend 2 days straight shuffling through belongings, moving them, none of them would leave, we'd both be left exhausted, strung out, sobbing, spiteful even at times, unhappy, angry, and the squalor would be WORSE afterwards.
I tried throwing most of my belongings away, a positive example is suppose to be inspiring, right? no.
I tried boycotting housework. That drove me insane and mom rarely even seemed phased.
I wailed loudly to everyone I knew about the situation, online, offline. To strangers even. And for the most part, people sided totally with me, and for brief moments that felt GOOD. "See, I'm right, it should be this way." But just because most people agreed with me didn't seem to make the situation better.
I made chore charts.
I begged.
I pleaded.
I cried.
I yelled.
I threatened.
I called names.
I tried bribing to some extent.
I tried bullying.
I was manipulative.

I'm not proud of it, I'm saying it though because it's the truth. I did it. And it did Not help.

Things didn't begin to change around here til one day we really had a blowup about it. It terrified me. When I thought about why it was so terrifying... I ws afraid my mother would end a very sad, lonely, unhappy person with unfulfilled dreams in a squalor house. I was afraid I would never be able to let go of wanting to help her even if it meant my own life never progressed and it took me down with it.

More than the squalor itself I was terrified of the emotional impact it had on our lives as I sat in my bedroom sobbing and frustrated. I stopped focussing on the physical manifestation of everything that was wrong, the stench of our home, the piles of junk, the unwashed dishes, the smelly laundry and decided that we both HAD to be HAPPY. By that point I didn't even know if the squalor made my mom unhappy. I honestly didn't, maybe deep down she needed it TO be happy? If so maybe I should shut up and accept it and figure out what else was missing because she obviously was NOT happy. I was ready to accept that maybe squalor would be permanent for her. Maybe I would have to disconnect myself from it, leave, and accept that and focus on having a happy life even if I could in no way comprehend or live in what consituted a happy life for her. Maybe happiness for her MEANT piling things up, and if I stopped resisting that then maybe she would finally feel content.

I did not know anything anymore. And that was probably the best point I ever got to in dealing with squalor in my home. I gave up every notion I had of what she needed, what she wanted, Who was right, who was wrong. It felt sickening to do so. I couldn't imagine that it could possibly be life enhancing to live like that but I was ready to accept anything from her if we could talk about it openly and work towards a goal of having happy lives. By that point if she told me she needed to move to Zambia and live in a garbage dump there I probably would have supported her in the decision and done everything possible to make it happen. I'd really reached a breaking point. Nothing I had been doing was working, obviously my attempts had been flawed in some way. I felt like a very, very broken person.

So I wandered into mom's room with two cups of tea and sobbing asked her if she was happy?
No, she said. She was not a happy person.
Well, ok, I was right about that. And I wasn't a happy person either.
Did she LIKE the squalor or did the squalor make her unhappy?
No, the squalor made her unhappy but getting rid of the squalor made her even MORE unhappy and terrified. We weren't calling it squalor at the time, I think we were referring to it as The Situation or sometimes, more pointedly, The Mess.
Well, Good, Good, Maybe I wasn't as dumb as I thought I was, she wasn't happy with how we were living and our environment. BUT she felt unable to change it.

I was feeling relieved. Mom was looking hopeless, just broken and hopeless. But I started getting cheerful, We knew we weren't happy. We knew we weren't happy with our environment so like a moron, and feeling a baseless enthusiasm I said.. god help me what was I thinking at the time? If I'd known then what I know now I likely never would have said it, though I'm glad I did... OK!! We're going to find a way to fix this!! We can't be alone, It can't be unfixable, all we want is to be happy. I'm going to find a way! Love you mom! and I walked out of her room and sat down at my computer and cried some more.

Over the next few hours I found more resources than I'd anticipated on the internet, though there still weren't that many. But I was overjoyed. I found SS and there was info about how they were NOT designed to help the loved one of a squalorer and they weren't capable of it, weren't prepared to, and had no advice. Stubbornly I posted and begged to be allowed to be a part of the community. The reception was loving, kind, and compassionate if not confident that it would work out. I felt like I had an In. There were people out there with this problem. And they were going to help me understand what was up. The first thing I got laid out and on the ground with was a basic beat down to NOT push my mother, NOT call her names, NOT make her feel bad.. That it would take time, years even, if ever for it to change. That she had to want to change. That open and honest communication would be one of the first requirements and most lasting requirements. That there were ALOT of reasons for squalor and they needed to be found out. I got a lot of info along those lines from SS and other support groups for people who had squalor.

Unfortunately I developed a -very- bad taste for groups that supported loved ones. They seemed to be stomping grounds for people behaving exactly like I had previously. And YES, it did make me feel better to occasionally read those posts and email lists. It felt good to know I wasn't the only one who was so frustrated they just wanted to go break things and scream and WHAT IN GODS NAME IS SO HARD ABOUT PUTTING GARBAGE IN A GARBAGE CAN... But in the end.. that attitude got me no where. And eventually I discontinued every one of those mailing lists. ceased logging into any site along those lines. And basically just wanted that attitude out of my life.

I had to accept that some days would go along with no visible process. I had to let go of alot of anger because even when unexpressed it taints the atmosphere and causes stress. I had to develop the patience of Job, and I am NOT a patient person. The first few attempts at cleaning, I decided if NOTHING got cleaned that was fine. I wanted to know what was happening in mom's head. I had to give up my own desire to have the squalor cleaned up. Put it completely to the side. Drop it. Let it go. Not allow disapointment or frustration. And simple find out why there was squalor. What caused this for mom. What might prevent it. What -I- did that upset her. Find out everything that -I- did that amplified the situation. I had to acknowledge that I could NOT make her change.

But I could talk to her and find out how she felt. Why she did and did not do things. How what I did made her feel. What I could do differently. I had to be ready to say "Ok, If me doing the dishes upsets you right now, I won't. I'll let them pile up."

Misc/Screaming Beacon (an ex-member - Pigpen, Ed.), I have to thank her for this, was hard on me, very hard on me at times. But she's the one who caused me to really reevaluate my standards, and whether they were worth long term happiness, whether it was worth it to vacuum if it upset my mom. So I stopped with my obsessive maintenance list. I was willing to let things slip. For my mom seeing me run around cleaning only made her feel worse. There were and are a lot of reasons for it. But what ever they are, whether they seem rational and logical or just way off the deep end.. That was her reality. And I had to accept it if I wanted to really understand what was happening..

There are a lot of things that at least appear very illogical about squalor, about any mental and emotional health issue. It hurt my head, it just fried my brain. And I had to let go of that because I wasn't working on MY terms anymore.

That was the biggest difference. That's what I mean when I lose it and scream that people need far more empathy for dealing with this. I had to put aside my own feelings, perceptions, desires, wants, standards, expectations. MY REALITY. And try to accept hers. It wasn't something I could do 24 hours a day. And honestly sometimes I just had to leave. Even to go sit in a starbucks for 3 hours staring at a wall feeling ready to explode. Sometimes I just sobbed to my friends because it WAS frustrating and I didn't understand. But it's the only way I saw progress between the two of us, in our home, in our lives.

I can't express how much I appreciate Squalor Survivors and Reclaiming Dignity in helping me to understand and help the situation, and even to love my mom more. She opened up to me more than she ever had in the past, and that's saying alot because despite everything we had always been close and loved each other.

I get angry when people won't make that paradigm shift, letting go of their own expectations and looking at it with someone elses eyes. I don't know how to help someone make such a drastic change without doing so. Without letting go of their own expectations and working from the position of the person you want to help and change. And doing so with their full understanding, consent, and desire. Otherwise to me it seems like just brainwashing them to accept some other standard and way of living without an understanding of why and how. A recipe that seems to be to be ripe for turning into resentment, confusion, and only short term change.

Thank you Squalor Survivors. Thank you for being a support group that actually helped me, the only one in my whole life that ever did. Thank you for being open, accepting and constantly a source of suggestions. Thank you for letting me know I always had somewhere to turn to. Thank you all for being around and wanting to maintain a positive, supportive environment.

Djolly Djolan

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