Long work days, long phone calls, narcissism and hoarding...

This past month has been a busy one.  Unrelenting grant deadlines, work fundraisers, and time sensitive projects have been consuming my days, and evenings.  Despite my efforts for balance, I once again find myself working 75 hours a week, or more... Not including my consulting jobs on the side as well.  Not a 'look how/busy/important/martyred I am' statement, but just setting the stage that I am barely hanging on by my fingernails.  I am making time to work out/run 6 days a week, but due to the subzero temps and the snow and ice we keep being pelted with, my marathon training has not progressed the way I had hoped, and I am only 2 months out from the race I hoped to run.  With that being the case, I will need to re-prioritize, and move forward.  I have been trying to stay a bit more connected to friends (and failing miserably) and I have gone out on a couple of dates recently, and have gone out a handful of times with one gentleman in particular.  

I am still keeping my hoarding mother on the low contact plan, calling her 3-5 times a week for very limited amounts of time during my commute.  Her deterioration and her increased narcissistic behavior continues.  She is aware of my work expectations, consulting deadlines, and other things that I choose to tell her in very limited doses.  She is simply exhausting to talk to.  She continues to operate in a weird, paranoid worst case scenario type of mentality, and due to her mental illness has no ability to self regulate, self soothe, or see any other perspective but her own.  

Our conversations... if you can call them that... consist of her skipping from subject to subject, including her speculation about the neighbors, her nosey questions about things that are none of her concern (financial questions regarding folks and the like), a lot of fat shaming and appearance shaming of those she knows and those she does not know, violent and vigilante type ideations for manufactured affronts and long forgotten petty grudges, and bizarre and incorrect assumptions on a host of topics.  

It is absolutely sad.  At the beginning of the month my former brother-in-law (married to my half sister) committed suicide.  He and I had stayed in contact, and life had not gone well for him of late.  It was sad, ugly, and my heart broke that he was in so much physical pain that he did not see any way out but that way.  Then my mother got wind of his passing, and the probing, inappropriate and morbid questions began.  She wanted to know how he killed himself, if he had pets, how long it was until he was found, did he die instantly, did he still own the house he did, who that would go to... you get the idea.  And she was baffled and angry that I would not acknowledge that I knew anything or not, and kept repeating that those questions were not anyone's business and if she could not find another subject to discuss I would end the call, and I did.  

Next call, she would eventually come back to it.  She was absolutely excited to talk about it.  After about two weeks of lower contact, she has tried to be more subtle about her questions, and she has made several derogatory comments about my sister and the fact that her last husband committed suicide, and now an ex husband as well.

SERIOUSLY?  That is the connection she made?  I just ended the call immediately.  I am absolutely sickened... and dealing with the relative that was still in contact closely with him and knowing more details than I ever wanted to is disturbing enough.  This gentleman was always kind to me, was the only father my niece every knew, and I am sorry he is gone.  I wish him the peace he never found in this life.  

I know the next thing that is coming.  She will go to the county seat and get public records that include death certificates and the like.  And I hope for her sake she does not tell me.  When a guy I was dating in college was killed in a car accident, she went and got the death certificate and got her hands on the autopsy report.  I was beyond livid.  

It hit me that this is another form of hoarding... the insatiable need to ferret out information and the like.  I have to say that she simply exhausts me.  Her self reported arguments with the utility companies that she calls a half dozen times a week, and her over the top sarcasm and insults to the folks is deplorable at best, and she is proud of her intentional cruelty.  

All of this stems from the misuse of power and control, feeding her addiction (for stuff and gossip) and the narcissistic personality traits that many who are this extreme side of hoarding demonstrate.  

Is there a point to this post?  Not so much, sadly.  Life is extremely challenging, and rich in experience for me.  2015 has already been a hard, hard year for many close to me.  I am close to losing my nearly 18 year old cat and our final days, weeks, months are precious.  And my mother?  

She exists in a small world where little things become big things, then they become the only things.  She did not ask to be born mentally ill, or to grow up in the abusive home she did, acquiring a significant trauma history.  She does, however, choose to not address anything and to focus all blame onto everyone around her, then criticizes and 'drags her cross' that she is alone and has no one in her life to help her.  

I finally have, in a very direct fashion, told her that sometimes folks live to experience the consequences of their decisions.  Folks that will not allow others to connect, that cannot engage in reciprocal and not transactional relationships/friendships often end up alone.  It is sad, but those who choose to self isolate often end up getting their wish, with terrible consequences.

All I have to say is this will not end well.  Hoarding, no one wins.  No one.

Thank you for reading, and if you are in the snow and ice impacted areas tonight, please stay safe and warm.

Exceptionalism and Hoarding

Just letting some of my 'thinks' see the light of day on this subject before dropping back into my typical lurkdom (relatively speaking)...

Regarding the OCD/perfectionism discussions in countless blogs, articles, listservs and others...

Hoarding... What a condition of such misery, abysmal to nonexistent insight and foresight.  There are many nuances and continuums of hoarder behavior, and much of it is compounded by the hoarder's choice.  

For many of us who have hoarders that are severe (and cruel!) the aspects present may include behaviors from the following (think of a Lichert scale of intensity from 1 to 10):

-Narcissism/narcissistic parenting

-Lack of insight

-Lack of compassion/bankrupt of compassion... inability (or conscious unwillingness) to see there other perceptions, feelings, etc.  (Lack of otherization)

-Addictive manifestation of behaviors, pleasure on the hunt to acquire, shopping/ acquisition highs, and the building of the emotion as the cycle repeats

-Interpersonal abuse... With all the hallmarks of power and control.  Gas lighting... Making everyone else responsible for their feelings... Blame, shame, triangulation, manipulation, etc... Mental, physical, sexual abuse...  Neglect and active lack of nurturing...

-Forced and enforced codependency

-Silencing and stalking

Not a comprehensive list, but you get the idea.  Now, if you have not fallen asleep or deleted this thinking 'brilliant inductive and deductive thinking, Captain Obvious!' then I get to my point.  Finally.

What if the perfectionism, OCD-similar behaviors that do not align with a true diagnosis of said, etc. are actually behaviors on another continuum?

I would call this one 'inappropriate beliefs of exceptionalism'.  For this post, IBOE for short.  Or is it an overarching psycho-pathology that many of these previously listed behaviors are borne of...???

They (the hoarder) are delicate/misunderstood/traumatized/special.  

You are not, and your adverse childhood (and those as an adult) experiences are discounted, denied, invalidated... 

You are victim blamed, and the hoarder is adept at the wonderful stranger manipulation to get others to join in.

Their belongings/'treasures' (blech) are special.  So much more than relationships, living a life that is not focused on opportunity lost, lived in the museum of overblown slights and the castle of disappointments due to always taking the 'nuclear/scorched earth option' to interpersonal relationships.  We have been trained our whole lives that the hoarder, the hoarder's belongings, EVERYTHING except us, rationality, being proactive or getting out of the way to be a part of a solution is precious.

Now think of the concept of 'exceptionalism' as  it is applied.  The strange form of elitism based on many dysfunctional and oppressive constructs that your 'ways' are superior, and everyone should primarily accommodate you, and an expectation of mind reading seems to be a prerequisite skill.

Hoarding.  No one wins.  No one.

When is enough, simply enough?

The title is a rhetorical question... on two levels.  I will start with the larger question.

In the past few days, an 11 year old boy was found by a deputy in North Carolina.  He was handcuffed to the porch, and had a dead chicken around his neck.  The video on the story can be viewed here.  You might be saying... "How terrible... Lisabeth... how does this relate?" Bear with me a minute.  If you have the iPad or iPhone app, look at it on CNN/US.  Also, in an AP link that for some reason is eluding me... the information contained in the initial CNN mobile site story is there.  So, between the 3 stories referenced here, and the countless others I have seen over the past little bit, the "Cliff's Notes' are as follows:

• The perpetrators are both 57 years old.
• They have 4 adopted children, and one foster child.
• The foster child was the one who was handcuffed to the porch with the dead chicken around his neck.
• The woman in the case is a SUPERVISOR at the area DSS.  She is a Department of Social Services SUPERVISOR... Let that sink in for a minute, eh?
• The police officer that made this discovery was actually enroute to another house when he spotted this.  This was a discovery of misadventure.
• The man was not cooperative upon being contacted, and one of the kids opened the door and released a dog that chased the officer to his car.
• When the officer returned, the child was in the house, the chicken was on the porch...
• In the CNN mobile app this morning (11/17/2013) both a law enforcement official and a member of the press stated that the situation was one of utter misery and squalor.  They remarked on the animals running in and out, and the farm animals roaming on the property.  The entire place stunk of feces and urine, and there was lots of junk...

So- in a word... HOARDERS.  And no one said the word.  And the woman?  In the management chain of DSS.  Wonder how many other children she damned to a life in the shadow of the hoard?  Besides the 5 that are now in CPS custody out of state.  

The upshot is, until all of us as community members make our elected officials, our members of law enforcement, our first responders, et al aware that we consider this to be a form of child maltreatment, and we continue to advocate for the children, there is little hope of a child escaping the hoard without significant trauma, and some do not escape at all.

What can we do?  Advocate.  Loudly.  Many of us, vociferously.  We can contact our housing multidisciplinary teams.  We can contact the Area Offices on Aging, find Hoarding Task Forces, or demand they be assembled, and demand that the focus not be solely on the hoarding person, but on on those in the home as well.

So... switching gears slightly.  I know I have been rather 'on' or 'off' since my surgery in August.  I am still healing, and long story short, things have continued to not be what I would call 'linear'.  

Some of the challenges I have been dealing with include:

• Continuing to lose muscle mass and drop in weight.  I went down to under 112lbs without trying to.
• Attempting to catch up and dig out at work, and it has been hellishly busy, and I am still buried from 2 months off.
• I had an allergic reaction because I am an idiot, (I ate turkey pepperoni despite a text warning me as I was flying low from NY to my best friend's home for his daughter's 3rd birthday party.  I saw the gist of it, but did not connect the dots.  Luckily, I caught it within 3 minutes, purged the 2 slices, and got liquid Benadryl caps that I opened and swallowed immediately.  No epi pen needed... this time.  Now however, I am hoarse, (had NO VOICE for 3 days) and appear to be dead with a cold, although it is not.
• Went to my specialist who was not aware of the events since June and July.  She FREAKED on me, screaming at me that I was underweight (duh) and needed to gain 12 pounds NOW.  (Double duh).  She disagreed with some of the surgeons decisions, and set me up for nasty and unpleasant tests.  On the positive side, she took me off 2 meds, decreased one in half, and said I should start gaining weight.  I have!  I am staying between 115 and 117 for right now, and I am actually hungry.  And eating!  And now I actually have some energy, and my sleep/wake schedule is resuming somewhat a normal rhythm.  I am losing my 'bracket face' and have resumed the gym, today I did three miles on the stepper.  Not much, but a start.
• My nerve damage issues have continued to be on or off.  Travel, eating, illness, med changes... it has been UGLY.
• I had a thyroid/parathyroid tumor scare.  It is not totally resolved, but it is not the frightening issue presented to me last week.
• Once I am back to near 100%, I will be scheduled for another bone scan, and hopefully, a genetic test to look for BRCA 1, BRCA 2, and other cancer indicators.

Again, I do not need a 'wahbulance' but life has not been all rainbows and puppy dogs for Lisabeth, and I did not expect it to be that way.  I am grateful to be here, to be back at work, to be cancer free.

So... where the piss off at my hoarding mother dearest occurs... 

Last night I attended the wedding of friends.  It was beautiful, and fun.  The reception ended 6 hours later, and since it was relatively early, and I had not talked to her in a few days, I called.  

The call consisted mainly of:

• Her commenting on how hoarse I sound, and using that as a springboard to talk about her many maladies and to ask bizarre questions.  I will spare you the questions, but they are of the type that comes from someone with nothing else to do but look at every bump, lump, and excretion of her body, and pathologize it.
• She commented on the 'actress' (GAH!) that had her 'stuff' removed due to her mother dying of 'that'.  She meant Angelina Jolie, the actor and human rights activist, and her mother's death from Ovarian cancer... and her being tested for the breast cancer gene, and getting a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy, hysterectomy and her ovaries, etc. removed.  I made the DIRE MISTAKE of commenting that I would be doing the testing soon and might have similar decisions to make (not commenting that she could have done this under her insurance at no cost and refused a few years ago).  She was appalled, and started her BS about breast implants, cancer, and etc.  I cut the discussion off brutally.
• She said she had something to tell me that was not pleasant, was disgusting, and I knew she was going to turn to discussing her poo.  Again, I will save you the unsavory particulars... but she asked if I was still having 'trouble' (referring to my partially paralyzed colon).  I very quickly and acidly told her I. DID. NOT. WANT. TO. TALK. ABOUT. IT.  She responded with a rebuke that she is just trying to be helpful, and plowed on with her 'discussion' that I would clog my toliet up like she did today, and then attempted to go into the details of the 'event' and its particulars that caused it, her phone calls to plumbers, the recommendation to buy an acid product (that we have at my shelter BTW) and how she used vinegar to unstop it.  I hung up on her.  

Not that this is to the level of anything near the hoarders who severely abused that child.  But- one thing is similar, and it is this amazing sense of entitlement that they do not have to follow anyone's set of boundaries.  They are above or beyond the law, society's conventions, and the boundaries of appropriateness.  It is always about them, what they want, what they experience, their priorities, and their screwed up narcissistic perceptions.  

What was a lovely evening filled with love, fun, food, music and laughter was eroded somewhat in just a few minutes on the phone.  I should have known better.  When will I learn?  And when is enough, enough?  

Dysfunction flourishes in silence.  Abuse grows in secret.  Keeping the secret... protecting the hoard.  After over 44 years, I am done being silent and keeping the status quo.  

Thanks for reading.

Narcissism is often co-occurring with Hoarding...

Sorry, I am extremely annoyed at my hoarding parent, my friend's hoarding parent, and a pair of hoarding parents in the news on the AP and CNN (US) that abused children, and had a small child handcuffed to the front porch with a dead chicken affixed to the child's neck. The news crews discuss the 'misery' of the home, the filth, the smell, the animals- BUT NEVER USE THE WORD HOARDING.

Hoarding- It comes down to the mental illness, the refusal to do anything to help themselves or their families, the addiction, and the abuse/use of power and control.





-Hoarding... It is not about the stuff... That is merely a symptom of a life threatening mental illness.

From the Mouth of a Hoarder... There is no end in sight!

Wow.  It seems the past 32 days have flown by.  What have I been doing that has kept me from my blogging responsibilities?  Things that include: 

• The Federal Shutdown that threatened the very existence of the agency in which I work.  
• Getting caught up from being off.
• End of the year reporting, end of the quarter reporting, grant proposals, never ending meetings.
• Health crises and surgeries of friends, deaths of friends' family members
• And having a newer car to travel almost every weekend.  

So- back to reality and working to get into a more normal schedule while attempting to keep some work and life balance, and some distance/balance with my hoarding mother.  

She has popped off some real gems lately.  Again, hoarding is a series of behavior, and poor insight, extreme narcissism and lack of empathy seem to be at the core of this disorder... the stuff is merely a symptom.  

But... to the list:

• [Talking about her dry rotted, wind damaged porch screens that she insists the neighbor she dislikes damaged intentionally.  Ditto for her storm doors]  "... I do not know what to do.  I know as soon as I fix them they will just get torn up again, so why bother?"  You know there are other things a bit more imminent at this moment right?  Like upgrading the electric in your house, replacing this fence that is rusting apart... "[Blustering about the cost] No one will give me an estimate on what I want for a security system!  They all come out here, tell me what they want to do, and never send an estimate or come back! Lazy b@st@rds do not want to work!"  Do you think something might be shying them off?  "Well!  Any time I have someone here for an estimate 'HE' has to drive by.  I think 'HE' scares them off!"  Why of course.  I should have known.
• [Talking about her neighbor to the rear of her property]"I am so mad I could just KILL.  She is NOT the person I thought she was.  I just don't call her, and I don't care.  I have done things for her and I have asked her to do a couple of minor things for me and she would not! I ..." Do you mean the trail camera on her roof deal and identifying your riding lawnmower that she might have seen at a range closer than a hundred yards once as being 'switched out' for old parts?  "Yes!  She KNOWS it is NOT my lawnmower and she recommended that thief to me!"
• "Whatever happened to Stabler?"  Huh?  Who?  "Stabler from Special Victims Unit?  Did they kill him off?  Does he come back?  I have NEVER seen him on anything else!"  Um... No television by choice remember?  For nearly 3 years now?  And never watched that show?  "Well- I am sure your friends watch it and talk about it!"  No, they don't. They know I am not interested in TV, and we have lots of other things to talk about.  Politics, societal trends... "I find that hard to believe..."
• Many, many things that start with, "Do you <verb> noun?"  No.  "Well, let me tell you what I do..."  UGH.
• The same 7 topic areas in regards to her cats and their behavior that always starts with, "Do your cats do ____?  Mine drive me crazy doing _____!  It is so STRANGE!"  And the kicker?  It is not strange.  It is always normal hierarchical cat behavior that one would see in a non-related, mega-cat household.  And, with the stressors they have of little horizontal and vertical space, one cat box for 6 cats, and being confined to a small bathroom at night and when she is not there... No wonder they are neurotic!
• "I cannot believe you leave your cats out in your apartment when you are not there!  What if they tear up something and choke?  Catch a toenail on furniture and hang themselves?  Someone would break in or maintenance would come in?  What if someone shoots them or throws something through the window at them?  [The list goes on and on gets more preposterous, but you get the idea!] You would never get them both!  They would hide and die! They would..." Oy.
• "Do you see things?"  What?  "Do your eyes play tricks on you?"  Um... NO.  "Today I was in a parking lot [long story short, she saw a demarcation in the pavement and saw it as a curb and it was not].  I guess THAT stuff is going to start happening!"
• "Oh... next door they are running a JUNK YARD!  It looks so terrible with all this junky stuff outside."  Really?  Do. Tell.
• Fat-shaming her cats, and anyone that she knows or sees that is 'so big!'
• Statements that clearly show ethnocentrism,racism, are hetero-normative, or are sexist in nature.  And being pissy and defensive when it is pointed out.
• [Changing gears mid-topic in a conversation] "What do you tell, um people, when people, are ... um... bothering them..."  What?  "Well, 'he' (hated neighbor in the turn is fill-in-the-blank with whatever minute thing she is now attributing to him." We have had this conversation over and over.  I am not having it again.  Have you kept a stalking log?  Taken pictures and recorded in the log dates, times, context and who was present?  Have you spoke to the police, and kept calling them with new information?  No?  Then I will not keep spending hours discussing safety planning and practice when you are not working on your end of it.  "[Sputtering and blustering]"
• "Do they use those light bulbs where you are?"  What bulbs?  "LEDs!  They are doing away with all the others here! I hate LEDs!  They do not last like others and..."  They did that years ago here, and it is not just LED bulbs that are available.  <smdh>
• "I have to go to the dentist this week, and get a cleaning.  And you know the greedy b@st@rds charge the whole cost of the cleaning!  I only have 11 teeth!  They should only charge 1/3..."
• "I was watching this untold stories of the ER.  Did you know people often stick things up their hind ends and get them stuck or stick their worm [her derisive word for penis] in things and get them stuck? I fail to see what is so great about that little WORM hanging between their legs..."

I could go on, but you get the picture.  

As the world turns, these are the days of our HOARD. <Oh>.  Have a great week, what remains of it, and thank you for reading!

It is never easy, or straightforward, but it just IS. Or, alternate title... That is the best I can explain the unexplained!

Over the time periods represented by the past 79 blogs - I have noticed a continuing precipitous decline in my hoarding mother's grasp on reality, but it is, sadly... not near enough to be actionable.  Since I had a major health issue and major emergency surgery almost 2 months ago, I have been only calling/speaking with her every 3-4 days and getting off the phone if she devolves into paranoia, negativity, or attempts to earnestly invade a boundary I have set.

The things that I have quickly gotten off the phone for include... 

1. Asking if I have every used Vaniqua (a prescription used for hiristulism [sp]?)as she is quite bothered by hair on her upper and lower lip.  She went to another doctor without dealing with it for weeks... and then complained to the pharmacist.  Despite me advising her it is not an issue, at least yet, she will drop into the self centered world of gross, and it always leads to a discussion of pubic hair... another subject I refuse to discuss with her.
2. Attempting to discuss her 'crusty, scaly moles' on unsavory places on her anatomy...
3. Continence pants, bodily functions in gross detail, including lack thereof...
4. The condition of her fungus infested toenails... And her lack of personal hygiene and denial of that as well.
5. Asserting that her hated neighbor 'has been in her house and put a turd in her basement'.
6. Discussing the Castle Doctrine, her conversations with the Sheriff and the State Police that she takes as a green light to shoot someone...  And other violent ideations and expressions.
7. Criticism of, and jealousy of her neighbors and anyone she interacts with, especially if they *GASP* spend money for pleasure.
8. Her delusion that she is Snow White.  (Not exactly, but that she has a special gift with animals...)
9. Inappropriate, confrontational and MEAN behavior in public.  
10. Medical and pseudo-scientific beliefs that border on the magical, overly causative/simplistic, or spontaneous regeneration.

Her ability to go to the absolute worst case scenario is a sight to behold, and her ability to invalidate and minimize anyone else's experiences is also worthy of at least a published case study.  And the upshot is ... she never seems to change topics or modes of craziness.  She has so self isolated that her world is wee-little-tiny.  

Last week I purchased another car.  My lovely, reliable car that was almost 8 years old and had over 170K without a single problem was approaching the stage where I could continue to drive it, but it was going to cost me... and having no payment would come at a large trade off.  Pay me now, or pay me later!  So it goes.  I traded last week, and am happy with that trade.  My newer car does not have Bluetooth as my old one did, but I am having that installed ASAP... But... where this is relevant... I can use the no handheld phone law in my state to extend the times between conversations to keep me healthy, happy, and working to continue to heal from the events 2 months ago.  Last week I returned to work 'full time'.  It has taken a bit out of me, but I have had some revelations and rediscoveries during this time.

• By nature of how life-threatening what happened to me was, and how invasive the surgery was... I had weeks at home when I really was not in the shape to do much.  I realized that if something ever happened to me that disabled me/prevented me from working- I would have to do SOMETHING.  Anything.  I could not let my world retract like I have seen in many others, my hoarding mother included.  I would need social interaction and intellectual stimulation on some level, even if I was capable of little else.
• I am still really only intellectually processing what has happened and the changes that may or may not be permanent.  And knowing myself like I do, I know that I do not want to discuss the particulars of some of it.  Partially because it is personal and something not discussed in polite company, and partially because I want to get through the next few months of assessment and some additional treatment before we determine what will likely be permanent in the nerve damage.  I am still in the place I was post diagnosis of the massive tumor and pre-op, where I expect nothing but a positive outcome, and if, IF... it is not, I will deal with what I have and I will kick its ass.  That is how I cope.  Expect the best, prepare for the worst, and take what I get.
• That I focus on what people do, rather than focusing on their 'failures' and 'did not dos'.  I again, could not look in the mirror if I lived in the museum of petty grudges and minor misunderstandings...
• That even well into my 40's... I still would rather have quality over quantity, and that includes life.  When it looked impossible that I would come out of this without an ovarian cancer diagnosis, my stance was, "Who truly wants to live forever?"  Not in a fatalistic ennui sort of way, and not to attempt to be 'heroic'.  Simply said... do I want to die?  NO!  But if I do... The only regrets I would have is leaving my aging kitties, the grief of my friends, and leaving my agency in a difficult position.  That is pretty much it.  I have taken most challenges and risks presented me, loved hard, often, traveled extensively and in places that many would not choose to go... Jumped at chances for formal education and lifelong learning... Excelled at a career that has been as challenging as it is fulfilling.  I have attempted to make the world a better place, and arguably, one could say that my impact has been negligible   BUT- even if I made one person's life just a little bit better, even if I moved the cause of social change/social justice and ending oppression every so slightly forward...  I have no reservations about my choices.  And something is only a regret if you do not take the lesson from it and use if for positive change.

I think that final point, is the thing that is a chasm that will forever separate me from my hoarding mother.  I look at life as an adventure, something I should actively contribute to... not for any karmic or religious reason, not to avoid consequences, but that it is the right thing to do.  My hoarding mother, and many, many, MANY who hoard look at life as opportunity lost.  Everything must have some sort of identifiable gain, and they are stuck in making the same choices over and over.  The saddest thing of all?  They know it will not bring a different outcome.  They are waiting for the 'X' factor... whether that be family, children, wonderful strangers... to come fill up the hole they cannot fill in their own lives.  

That is why I get so frustrated when my mother cannot distinguish that every event is a jumping off place to talk about herself and tell her stories for the umpty-umpth time, exactly in the same words, inflections, expressions.  Why I want to scream at her invalidation and her refusal to see me as a whole, completely different person that has different experiences, feelings, knowledge... and DNA contributions.  I am a separate person.  Not a supporting actor in her never-ending drama.  Her refusal to change the subject and resultant digging in further when I ask or tell her the subject upsets me, such as about my nerve damage/resultant BP drop that causes me to pass out when I stand quickly.  Her attempt to DARVO... Deny, Avoid, Reverse Victim and Offender?  "Lisabeth, I was just asking... you do not have to be so hateful and mean."  Then she pouts.  

Do I worry about something 'tipping' me and that would cause my descent into mental illness/hoarding?  Yes.  Do I know that since I am 44 and have not shown any signs of the mental illness, depression, schizophrenia  and the like that runs in my family that some how, some way I might have escaped that piece?   Yes.  But I did not escape unscathed.  Do I know that my very precise, organized, tidy, and minimalist life are common in those growing up in the shadow of the hoard?  Yes I do.  I know that I am close to one end of the (linear) continuum and hoarding is at the other end.  But I also recognize that my managing my space the way I do... that it is possible that two such extremes in behavior may come from a similar place.  And I am always checking myself, and I hope that those close to me would give me a reality check if I ever do start to move down the continuum.

But... with all that coming out of my head and through my fingers via my keyboard to your kind eyes... I am so much further along in my ACOH process than I was even 2 1/2 years ago.  Will I be the person I could have been if I had not been exposed to cruel, narcissistic and abusive parenting growing up?  Would I still have had to negotiate life with PTSD?  No one can know that.  But honestly, that Lisabeth who might have been, has quite bluntly, never existed.  

The Lisabeth I am now is integrated, whole, and as such I will continue to strive to heal and grow.  I am not the physically, emotionally and otherwise abused, bullied and stalked child I was.  I have never had a mother.  I do not need one now.  I am my own mother.  I have realized that my reality is what I make of it... and I choose happiness.  And so it goes.  

Have a great week everyone.  Thank you for reading!  I should have more 'FTMOAH' soon!

Wood ticks and other errata...

So, if you have read anything of this blog before now, you know that my hoarding mother is *somewhat* delusional and her insight is nonexistent. 

So- several days in a row she was complaining of finding ticks on her, on her clothing.  Today she found a tick on one of her strictly indoor cats.  She again attributes it to 'being outside' and talks about bugs in a manner that approaches a belief of spontaneous generation.

Now, in March of this year she found... excuse my vernacular... a turd in her hoarded basement, and an area in which her cats can never reach or are permitted.  She first decided it was 'snake poo' then recategorized it as 'skunk poo'.  Under either classification she is convinced that her hated neighbor used a credit card to enter her house and place it there. Late May she found a cockroach in the kitchen, and she decided that some bananas she purchased where the source despite checking them for 'passengers' or roach eggs.  Now, this tick on a cat in her house.  I have speculated more and more often since March that her house is tipping from a dry/'clean' hoard into a wet/'dirty' hoard.  I suspect the ticks may be another step in this evolution.  

Several years back she was keeping birdseed in a plastic trash can on her front porch, and to her surprise, she had 30-40 mice living on her screened in porch.  Now, fancying herself a modern day Cinderella (at least in her 'special' connection to animals) she refused to listen to my concerns/my ex-husband's concerns that there were easily 3-4 times what she saw present, and that they had to be gaining access to the house.  She will assert that she does not have a single spider or gnat in her home, and other such claptrap.  When she saw one of the mice go up her block foundation and disappear under her vinyl siding, she finally got mouse poison and killed all her new little 'pets'.  She found they had chewed through the bottom of the can, but steadfastly refused that any made it into the house.

She also feeds feral cats, and the birds.  She throws bread, cereal, cookies, and all kinds of crap in the yard 'for the birds' and keeps wet and dry food out for the cats, and as a result of the rural area, and the untended yard and the goat/horse field behind her she is feeding skunks, possums, raccoons and other vermin.  And they are SO CUTE!  Blech.  She also has found fleas on herself, and she steadfastly refuses to hear how the vermin coming in on her porch and etc. could be 'promulgating' the fleas and the ticks.  She also refuses to entertain the thought that something, or several somethings, could have gotten in through a few different routes/methods.

I guess this is how it starts... the poo, the wet hoarding.  I am sadly convinced that if I outlive her, and we are not estranged, that I will have a hoard of the highest classification to clean out.  Dear GOD.  

One bit of comic relief... a bird pooped on her head today.  And she is, once again, perplexed as to why the bird was flying overhead in that area since there is no power lines, etc.  

WOW.  That is all I have to say.  

Now I am going to bed.  Goodnight all.

So when does a hoard 'tip over' from a dry hoard to a wet hoard?

Dry hoards... 
Wet hoards... 
Clean hoards... 
Dirty hoards...  

No matter what stage the hoard is on the clutter scale, most COHs refer to the type of hoard.  Many of the hoards you see on the reality television shows are wet/dirty hoards.  There is significant vermin and garbage in the hoard, and often animal or human waste in very severe hoards.  My mother's hoard historically has been a dry/clean hoard.  Do not get me wrong.  Her house STINKS.  It is dangerous to anyone going in from a respiratory/health standpoint.

A quick rewind, if you will, to when I was at her house the last time, which was July 2011.  This was the first time in over 10 years,  and it was hugely hoarded to levels often towering over my head with goat paths, but for the most part it was a dry hoard.  I gagged going in, and the refrigerator was full of nastiness, etc... and I got deathly sick.  Fast forward to last month, and I was in the hoard-mobile and got sick again.  Now, if you have read this blog and saw the mid-March entry, she found a turd downstairs.  And it was not from her cats...  She first decided that it was snake poo and then decided here in the last couple of weeks that it is skunk poo.  And she believes her hated neighbor broke into her house and left it there.

Fast forward to this week.  Her paranoia continues to feed on her narcissism, her negativity and her abject and self inflicted misery.  As many folks who hoard do, she has long monologues about minutia of normal living.  Long side expiditions into the world of 'no-one-gives-a-royal-#$&%'.  This time she took over 10 minutes to describe her extreme caution in bringing produce into her house.  She will tell you will a straight face that there is not one insect in her house.  If you believe that, I have a lovely used car with 165K that I will sell you that is LIKE NEW for what I paid for it 5 years ago!  <Oh... I digress...>  Anyway, as I was about terminate the call, she finally gets to the issue.  She found a roach in her kitchen.  She just KNOWS that it came in on the two bananas she bought a few days prior and went through her 'process'.  

Now... I realize it is possible that happened, but very unlikely.  I would be more likely to believe that the roach come from one of the following:

• How any roach and his or her friends enter any home since it is in essence Roach Nirvana
• That some of the paper bags, cardboard boxes, or umpteen year old dry goods hatched roach eggs finally
• The same route or reason the poo was in her basement ... (wait... is that technically the same as the first point?)
• It caught a ride in on any of the other 5 million items she carries into the house weekly from warehouse retailers, big box retailers, the pet store, etc.

With that being said...  What concerns me the most is the first and third points (and they technically are the same I think) so... to me this means that the infiltration of garbage is getting to be more substantial than it was nearly two years ago.  There was some, and a whole lot of reusing things that should never be kept, but 2 major things have changed for her.

1. She now wears continence pants after a couple of incidents of soiling herself without knowing it (????) in public.  Apparently pissing herself repeatedly did not prompt Depends usage.  But a series of sharts or worse did.  Ugh.
2. She has walked very laboriously and with a cane since last July.  This has resulted in her being even more sedentary and immobile than she was. For example, she is now feeding the 6 cats their canned food in a communal bowl making them 'take turns'... whatever that means.

I strongly suspect that she is continuing the steep slide from dry to wet hoarding.  Her house is already toxic beyond description... Most of her animals who have passed in the last 20 years have succumbed to liver failure, which there has been some discussion on hoarding task forces that animals (especially cats) forced to live in the hoard have a disproportionally high incidence of this.  (I would like to see some evidence/citation of research in relation to this... Not that I doubt it, but I prefer scientific method and SCIENCE, not just anecdotal information.)  She always, always, ALWAYS has some sort of respiratory ailment that is antibiotic resistant and hell to treat, then there is the fact that I ended up with a systemic infection/endocarditis from being in her house less than 10 minutes.  She had the library staff print off documents on the weird and rare form of bacteria that nearly cost her her hand and her life from a cat bite.  And she was shocked to find that it is unlikely that it came from the cat... Denial immediately set in and the information was discarded as relevant.  

I have only talked to her once or twice since this disclosure, and she was going to buy roach traps, etc.  I am sure her delusion/denial has set back in, and if I have to guess, she will at some point start blaming hated neighbor for this too.  And how would she ever have someone come in and treat?  She would not.  The horror!  Having a pest control truck there!  Acknowledging the problem!  And letting someone in her house?  Not happening.

If I do outlive her, and she has not succeeded in estranging me completely, it is going to be quite the legacy/inheritance she leaves me.  That is enough to keep me up at night...  Simply horrible.  And there is nothing that I can do to get her help, willingly or not.

One humorous note, she was referred to a therapeutic  massage therapist by her chiropractor.  (Another person that I should add to the 'send flowers for dealing with her' list).  She has another Wonderful Stranger and something else to talk about, interspersed with the crazy... but hey, you take the positive where you ca find it.  Her 934,768 questions before the appointment were funny, such as:

"Do you wear clothes?  I am not getting naked for this!"

"Do they pound on you like they do on TV?"

"Will the place be clean?"

You get the idea.  And I have real empathy for the massage therapist.  

Have a lovely Memorial Day Holiday if you are from the US and commemorate this holiday.  I will be spending it with my cats, my friends, some awesome food (corn on the cob, grilled portabella mushrooms with a mix of shrimp and scallops and white wine stuffed in them) and more wine.  

Goodnight all.  

You have GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!

Wow.  You cannot make this stuff up.

Just hung up from a call from my mother... which is a relatively rare thing lately, she usually awaits my check in calls (which makes me happy, honestly...).  

Anyway, last night I called her quickly after I had met friends at a sushi place in a nearby town, and when I drove up to my apartment I noticed the outside lights were off on the backside of my building, where I enter my garage.  I just mentioned that it was weird, and she immediately went from zero to worst case scenario in under 10 seconds.  "Did someone sabotage them?  Should you call security?  Should you call the police?..."  You get the idea.  I told her it was fine, the place is large, and sometimes the individual timers get out of whack, and this happens. I would just use the internal stairs and go up through to my apartment rather than go out and around as I normally do.  I hung up, thinking no more about it.  

Today I stayed home from work.  I did not have anything scheduled, and I wanted to try to rest and recuperate a bit more from whatever allergic reaction/illness I acquired from being in the hoard car a week ago.  I am getting better!  YAY!  

Just a couple of minutes ago my mobile phone rings, and it is her ring tone.  (And yes, I am a sarcastic ass.  Her designated ring tone is a certain little ditty from the Wizard of Oz movie... but I digress).  I pick up the phone and she nearly screams, "Lisabeth?  Are you okay?  Is everything alright?"  Um... yes... I told you I was not going in to work today.  "Oh.  Well, I know you came in last night and the lights were off, and it was after dark, then I did not hear from you, and I was wondering if you made it in okay or if something had happened and..."  NO.  I am fine.  I am getting ready for bed.  Tomorrow will be a long day.

"Oh.  Well I did not know if you would answer, and I had called the [local county] sheriff to see if I could get the number of [my state's] state police barracks..."

FOR WHAT?  

"Well to see if anything..."

Never mind.  Goodnight.

<dial tone>

WOW.  WOW!  Of course, this is the same woman (who just shared this last week, 9 years after the fact) that when I was on a Caribbean Cruise with my now ex-husband Hurricane Dennis was causing a bit of issue in that area.  Apparently she called several travel agents to find out 'what they would do' and attempted to get a number to contact the cruise ship directly, but was not successful...

She is also always saying things about how she would not 'let me' do such-in-such if she knew then what she knows now.  Things like travel to South Africa and other places abroad... anything she finds 'so scary'.  Like she had any ability to permit or to deny me going!  I have been on my own and totally self supporting for many, many years.  Her perception of control and her narrow and rigid view of the world is sad.

So... I was very relaxed and getting ready for bed.  I just realized that I am sitting here, clenching my jaw hard enough to start a tension headache.  I am going to log off, take a nice warm shower, do a bit of gentle stretching, and read my lovely book in bed with my two feline house companions.  

Have a good night.

So when in the home state... I visited my hoarding mother...

Sorry for the radio silence for the past couple of weeks.  Mostly it has been the same old, same old for me... all grants are due at my agency, and the past several weeks have been 75-85+ work weeks.

So- the one week that I could potentially 'rest'? I decided to reverse my decision to NOT attend the professional conference in my home state as I had not cancelled yet... and went.  It is a 7 hour drive roughly, and I needed continuing education hours to renew my professional license that expires at the end of this calendar year.  

I did not let my mother know until I was in my hotel suite, feet up on the ottoman and working on things via my VPN client.  I made plans to meet her in a town halfway from the town I was in, and where she lives.  It is a really rural, small place about 30 miles from both of us.  

I met her at the designated location, and we went on to the restaurant.  After that, we went to a super Walmart and she shopped, and I was on my way back to my hotel less than 3 hours later.  

She was on relatively good behavior.  Relatively.  She was shocked when she saw me, as I am now 102 pounds lighter than I was, and this has been a three year journey of watching calories, adopting a mainly pescatorian eating strategy, and eating mainly fruit, veggies, and organics at that.  She made it quite clear that she thinks I am:

1. Going to die like my dad did of heart disease because I am losing too fast!  Um... over 3 years? and the last 40 lbs has been since October?  I am not Karen Carpenter, and my BMI is 24.  No danger there.
2. Look bad.  I did grab a pair of Levi's since I my jeans are too large even with a belt.  I found an Missy size 8 (US sizes) and could have worn a size 6 if they had them.  That is the smallest I have been since I was 23 or 24, but I was much thinner in high school and college.  And at 5' 4 1/2'' I am not a big woman.

Being in Appalachia is always interesting.  The folks are resilient, giving and open people.  And they will stare if you do not fit in.  And I do not.  And I am okay with it.  Mom, however, was making a big deal out of it.  And apparently it was my fault.  I was wearing a cute little swing (yet modest!) dress with an empire waist (black) and a hot pink shrug that matched my hot pink patent leather stilettos/pumps.  

In Walmart a gentleman with his family complemented me on my dress, etc.  Mom kept asking questions in a loud tone of voice... "What did he say?  Why did he say that?  What did you say?  Well, you are attractive and a clothes horse... it would not hurt you to be nicer to men... maybe you would have a boyfriend..."  I wanted to puke, and die.  

She would occasionally, and in a way that was apropos to nothing in our conversation, start talking about the hated neighbor in the turn, and she "knows he has been in the house!  The skunk sh*t is proof!  ..."  I did not react, ask questions, redirect, or say anything.  I simply just acted like she had not said anything.  Wonder if she has decided the 'snake poop' she found in the basement is now 'skunk poop'.  She also asked if 'court stuff' could be found on the INTERNET.  She started going on to this neighbor's arrests for DUI, driving on a suspended, etc. and that if she knew he was still under court supervision/revocation of license she would 'make a little call' if she sees his truck leave.  I advised her to mind her own business.  Like THAT is going to happen.

I also lost my mind apparently, and rode in her car from the restaurant to the retail store.  And immediately my eyes felt sticky, and I felt the need to clear my throat.  Over the next two days I felt really tired, and wondered if I was coming down with something.  The answer to that is yes... and on Saturday I woke up with a sore throat, gummy eyes, and congestion.  And it has gotten worse to the point that I sat my birthday out rather than engaging in fun with friends.  It is okay, I did have lunch with my best friend, and spent the rest of the day with my two favorite 'people' in the world, my cats, and I do not require hoopla and party hats... but being sick on your birthday sucks.  And I am getting worse.  I have to work tomorrow, but we will see how this plays out.

I first thought that since tree pollen was at the absolute highest the past few days, that maybe I was having a reaction to the culmination of the 'tree orgy'. Now as this continues to play out, and reflecting back to my extreme physical reactions just being in her house for less than 10 minutes... (I ended up with a largely asymptomatic sinus infection that went systemic... resulting in my bout with endocarditis).  I think it is a reaction to her, and that car.  The car smelled slightly of the hoard, and was dusty/grimy inside.  

What the hell is in the car?  Or on her?  Maybe her NOT being in my car was a good thing.  This takes things to another level.  

Knowing I was going to see her stressed me out.  I had very little to say to my friends, and based on the extreme negativity of her monologues in general, and especially towards me, I was prepping myself to pull the plug on the meeting, and perhaps our contact ... period.  I was struggling with my typical coping mechanism, just shutting down, numbing out, compartmentalizing and disassociating a bit.  But not to the level of Sybil.

I am no longer willing to play nicey-nice with folks who I have shared the secret.  And one of my former co-workers kept harping on ... "well it will be nice to see your mom won't it?  Bet you are glad to see her since it has been so long!  Bet you want to visit more often!"  When I quietly but firmly stated that I was not looking forward to it and was prepared to bail to preserve my well being... The response of my friend was "You don't mean that!  That is your mother!  It does not matter what she does, you only have one mother..."

And so it goes.  I will not give this secret and dysfunction any more free rent.  I do not want to be identified by my mothers psychopathology, and I have no desire for this to 'walk in the room before I do'.  But, I will not perpetuate the ignorance that many have that results in placing accountability on the COH rather than where it belongs... on the hoarder.

Sometimes families are broken or in some level of estrangement for a valid reason.  If she were an alcoholic who engaged in the behavior she has, I sincerely doubt folks would be advising to 'just deal, it is the only mother you have' type of crap.  So much education is to be done, but I struggle with wanting to be an agent for change and to push for understanding, treatment, and resources for hoarders and their families (victims)... but I also do not want to be the ACOH poster child.  So much ambivalence.  

It was good to see her, just as a reality check- I had not seen her since July of last year.  She is walking slowly and bent over with a cane.  I am not sure how much is a production, because she scoots along normally with a shopping cart.  She refuses a walker, and she refused a motorized cart at the store.  She showed me her 'groove' in her leg.  I cannot see anything there.  Her color was good, and she looked healthy enough.  I know looks can be deceiving...  but she does not look ill.

The kicker for me?  Now I am sick.  I will run to the doctor next week if I am not significantly better just to be looked at... I think giving myself a week more to 10 days is reasonable.  Honestly, my staff have articulated/wondered when I would get something since I have been working such killer hours, not sleeping, etc.  I was a welcome mat for a bug... but I am a bit paranoid that this feels more like an allergic reaction, and cold/flu meds are doing NOTHING for it.

Sorry for the long, tangential and whiny blog.  Back to your regularly scheduled irreverent humor next time:-).

Has the hoard progressed to the level that she is carrying who-knows-what on her person?  And what does that mean at some point in the future and the legacy of the hoard?

Hoarding... no one wins.  And the stuff?  The stuff is just a symptom of the underlying disease.  

Dear Abby needs educated on hoarding ....

http://www.kansascity.com/2013/04/04/4159250/dear-abby-hoarder-driving-him.html

Greetings!

Here is an opportunity to provide 'Dear Abby' with updated information on hoarding, the DSM 5, and the impact on children.  

Who will join me?

Appropriate meme

Resonated with me...



-Hoarding... It is not about the stuff... That is merely a symptom of a life threatening mental illness.

Some salient points have been reinforced of late

To those that celebrate Easter, Happy Easter!  Today I spent the day recharging myself, spending time with the 2 most amazing cats (my furry family).  This weekend I took a large part of it off, and although I will have a large price to pay over the next month, I needed these three days ... to only do what I wanted, needed, had to do. 

I reconnected with some friends that I have sadly neglected due to my crazy work schedule the past few months... and I am working to once again achieve balance.  I am really working to move past the 'all or nothing' or perfectionist perspective that I was indoctrinated with by my hoarding mother.  I have a huge list of things that I have a deadline for at work.  And I will get them done.  I should have 'deep cleaned' my apartment (although it is company ready now!) and went to the grocery.  I did not.  Because this weekend, self care was the priority.  And reconnecting with those most important to me... my family of choice.

Now- bear with me, this may be a bit a long and twisty, but...  In the past few months work has been demanding.  Lots of lobbying, advocacy, new staff, and all grants are due for renewal... plus 2 events coming up and ... you get the picture.  I have worked crazy hours, worked every day, and let my life get out of balance.  Somehow I have drug myself to the gym 3 times a week, but it was a fight.  Happily, I am 92 pounds down, and 21 lbs from goal.  Only 8 from a calculated BMI of 25.  Through all of this, although I am an introvert and enjoy my own company, I felt isolated.  I was isolated.  By my own excess... (work).  And to that end, I thought about the isolation my hoarding mother imposes on herself.  About her inability to see things from another perspective, to be part of her own (or anyone else's) solution, to set achievable goals that are set in reality, and to accept responsibility/be accountable for her own life.  Not that I am perfect.  Obviously I am not. 

I spoke with some other COH's online this week, and have lurked in the online support group.  On top of that, speaking to my mother, highlights the true sickness, the narcissism, the addiction of hoarding.  To her and many, if not all, hoarders- their overarching coping mechanisms focus on the abuse of power and control.  Within that framework, several things are relatively consistent with most hoarders, if you can dig deep enough.  They are:

• Narcissistic and manipulative parenting
• Lack of empathy or compassion 
• Extreme rigidity
• Lack of boundaries and limits
• Refusal to look at data in a holistic way that would result in a reasonable conclusion

If you were so motivated to look back at the 40-something posts here on this blog (if you are a complete masochist), you would be able to group them into these categories.  Much of my posting has been on the horrendous things that come out of her mouth, and her refusal to see things from any other perspective than her own.  I see her constantly revising history and her rumination and negativity as stemming from the above. 

It appears to me that the life of a hoarder (especially one as close to the utterly dysfunctional/abusive end of the behavioral continuum as mine) is both full and empty at the same time.  It is empty of the things that most find rewarding... like reciprocal friendships, evolving and loving relationships with family, activities that bring joy to them and others... the list could be huge.  What the hoarder's life is chock full of, other than useless stuff, is bitterness, anger, and fear. 

That is simply so sad.  I heard a statistic from a respected hoarding researcher that less than 7% of those who receive therapeutic intervention for hoarding show any sign of substantive improvement.  And more frighteningly... there is a 100% failure rate on curing it.  (Now, I have an email into the person citing these stats so I can annotate/cite them correctly).  That tells me that to date, the current way of treatment is an utter failure.  This, in my mind, would be like working with the perpetrators of domestic violence and asking them gently about the times they used power and control, and asking them to maybe not use a baseball bat on their significant other, but to just punch them.  And the family?  Sorry!  If you are not willing to submit to the continued abuse, you are obviously part of the problem.  Is this a harsh analogy?  Yes.  Exaggerated for effect?  Yes.  Accurate nonetheless?  YES.

Dear Prudence - Hoarding

See the last story/question...

http://www.slate.com/articles/life/dear_prudence/2013/03/dear_prudence_my_boyfriend_won_t_marry_me_despite_our_having_a_child.html



- Hoarding... NO ONE wins. No one.
And, no matter what, your hoarding parent's situation is NOT your fault.

No appropriately snarky title for this one... Out of the mouth of a hoarder... Take 231,984

What do you say to these types of things?  All are direct quotes from the past few days.  

"You know what that ba$t@rd did when he broke into the garage?  He got in my car and loosened my seatbelt.  Now where it bolts onto the floor, it is floppy!  I have to find someone to fix it!  The last worthless [add the past 5 or so service places she went psycho on] said there was nothing wrong with it."  Could it be because the car is 20 years old?

"I know 'in the turn' [her supersecret name for her hated neighbor- because 'someone' might be listening or recording her phone calls]has been up here again.  He stuffed dirt and sticks into the drain in front of the garage [that has a dirt/gravel driveway and bushes around it].  He also has been cutting branches off my pear tree, and throwing them down like they fell..."

"[Discussing her newest 'Wonderful Stranger' the next street over who seems to be seriously hoardy if not a hoarder herself...] He [hated neighbor] stood and watched while she pulled the stuff out of my gutters a couple of summers ago, and guess what!  Last night all her sensor light bulbs are broken out.  I think it is a bit too much to be a coincidence for her to have lived her over 40 years and this is the first time something like THAT happened.  Why I just bet that he saw her car and..."  SMH.  Of course.  The 2, 3 or 4 year lag time was just to throw you off the case.  

"I wish there were bands of vigilantes I could hire..."  *crickets chirping*
"That s*n of a b!t@$.  I was on my last bag of birdseed, and he took it!  Took my dustpan too.  [Begins long monologue of everything that family has done to offend her since 1968... Such as breathing, existing, stealing soda returnable bottles off the porch in 1975 when he was a preteen, making different choices and setting some boundaries with her.  And a lost dustpan and a partial bag of birdseed is a fate equal to sentencing someone to death.]"

"There has been a black truck in [hated neighbor's] driveway for weeks now!  I first thought it was his daughter's or maybe he found another tramp, but some guy came out today and got in it.  I think he must be renting a room!  That house is too small to be a rooming house!  And you know that 'crony' has to be as big of a piece of trash as he is!  People of that caliber hang together!  Wonder if that is allowed on his probation?  I wonder what is GOING ON THERE!..."  Maybe he has company?  That is sinister!

"[Dramatically]I have a question for you... and I want an answer! "  
*Crickets chirping, with such a hard eyeroll that I think I sprained my eyeball...*  
"What color is the [goes into great and bizarre detail describing the chin spoiler on her 20 year old car] supposed to be?  Chrome?"
No.  It is black plastic, but by this time I assume it is more of a charcoal to medium gray.  Why?
"Well I saw it today and I wondered if someone had switched it out with a crappy one or ..."
The only thing 'chrome' looking on your car is the manufacturer emblems on the hood and the tailgate, and your tailpipe finisher.  Your wheels are aluminum.

There are many more, but it is again the endless speculation and assumptions that are not based in any sort of reality.  

Simply... Ugh.