When I attended my Sunday bee, I did a lot of listening as others reminisced about 9-11. Very little political talk came up. I was glad for that.
After one of our members shared conversations she had had with strangers in New York City, who told her (somewhat prophetically) that the Towers would not be there for long (this was in the 90's when she lived there), the conversation switched to more present personal cares. My friends were taking care of kids still, and some had parents who were passing on or needing care. It wondered if I would have this responsibility, with my parents.
I heard stories of how some folks hoarded and how difficult that was for survivors to deal with. One astute member, who sometimes speaks directly to my soul with her wisdom (Thank's HP!)...spoke up and said that, whenever there was hoarding, there was always a trigger or a reason for it to have begun. People begin to hoard when there has been great loss or overwhelming change in their lives. In other words, hoarding is a response to emotional crisis.
I don't believe I hoard (yet), but I am suspecting it is a case of There but for the grace of God go I....I have real issues that make me want to "save" things most folks would toss.
I was going to save forever the 9-11 newspapers published in a nearby Southern city. That week of reporting and pictures, would be of value historically, and they had been my only source of news besides the radio. I never wanted to forget. But, my husband threw out the box of papers that I'd planned to save. I had brought it out from underneath my much bigger pile of newspaper clips, and he thought I wanted it recycled. ;)
I thank HP for that today, though I was perturbed at the time. Had I been "permitted" to clutch onto those papers, I am willing to bet I'd be entrenched in major house-hoarding. So, I count my blessings.
While I had my worst emotional crisis nearly two years after 9-11, I could no longer think of our commander-in-chief as being honest about his real motivation to go into Iraq, my falling down eventually led to my asking for help.
I needed to get help with my home, in order to regain my life, and I received guidance from an organizer, who today is a friend. I count my blessings, again. I let someone into my life at a time when my mental health was in the balance.
That organizer asked me enough questions, shameful as they were... that I did was able to unclench the fist I'd closed around other things that would have catalyzed MORE hoarding yet. Today I am by no means as organized as I would like to be, but I have definite plans for my transformation. ;)
With our upcoming changes, and someday-somewhere move, there'll be plenty of opportunities to prevent hoarding in the future. :O