A while ago, March 12 of 2013 actually, I shared about my hoarding mother's discovery of a turd in her hoarded home. If you have not had the... pleasure... you can read it for yourself.
Click here to read the blog about the discovery of the 'poo' object
Although I had NOT forgotten about our conversation nearly a month ago, I had not mentioned it, asked her about it, etc. That is my new strategy for my sanity. Not participating in the crazy.
So- because I am so obviously a masochist, I called her on my way home to check in.
"I just got back! [Rambling litany of complaints that launched with 'I am so mad I could KILL!'... her normal precursor. One would think she ran the Boston Marathon, but it was in actuality about 3 errands/stops... one that includes the library.] And something really WEIRD happened."
<Crickets chirping>
"Today I just had the word 'snake' come into my mind... it was weird! So when I went to the library I asked the 'girl' behind the counter [You mean the librarian? OY!] if she would 'do something disgusting' for me..."
<Inwardly I cringe and add the one-woman-operator of the local library to my 'needs flowers for dealing with her list'.>
"And she said that it depended on what it was! She acted so weird! I liked [the previous librarian who was the only employee until her retirement in 2010] so much better, but anyway, I asked her to help me figure out what snake poop looks like [and she begins to ask me if I essentially knew you could look such things up on THE INTERNET and proceeds on with no response forthcoming from me]."
At this point, I simply pull my car over to the side of the road to listen to this. I know it is going to be off the charts batshit crazy. If this were an earthquake, it would be a magnitude of approximately 7.5...
For purposes of brevity... I will offer a synopsis of the 'gems' of this conversation... they are:
- Her lengthy and odd descriptions of the poo/discussion of the poo... using words like 'half a prune, consistency...
- Her discussion with the librarian of the birdseed in the poo, and the librarian's advising her that the snake could have eaten a bird or a small rodent that would result in that...
- Her conclusion based on that Google search and resultant discussion that "the [hated] a$$hole [neighbor] in the turn" is responsible... "You KNOW that, THAT SNAKE, did not get into my house naturally.
- In response to my question of, "How so?" She went off on a rant about she could tell that her door had been opened with a credit card and he would not have to open the door very far... her conclusions also included that the snake could not have gotten under the [large] gap under her kitchen door and so it went downstairs.
- She mistakes me for a herpetologist and asks me how long snakes can live without food. I advised her that it is most likely the snake is there because there is a food supply, and remind her of the mouse fiasco a few years ago.
- This causes utter indignation- and she haughtily informs me that there is not even a single bug in her house...
- She was ranting about the [hated neighbor] should go 'visit his mother'. His mother died of lung cancer several years ago. She then started her violent ideation which I advised her that she needed to change the subject immediately or our call was over.
- She acidly asked how the snake got in organically then asked about the dryer vent, which has no screen or anything in it now because she has used it to hide things on occasion [don't ask]. Where it is it is approximately 5 inches off the ground, and there is a whole 'hoardy' mess of a box for the feral cats to eat out of directly in front of it, and the cat feeding is drawing all kinds of vermin into the yard. She then had a freak out that he put the snake down the dryer vent and he could do something else! Horrors! And more comments about how she needed the 'Equalizer' [a horribly schmaltzy 80's US filmed vigilante show that she LOVED]
- She talked about how she would 'be careful' now before she reaches into anything downstairs...
WHAT IN THE BLUE HELL WILL WE FIND IN THAT HOUSE WHEN IT IS TIME TO CLEAN IT OUT?
You can imagine how it went from there. I pulled back onto the road, informed her I had to go, and ended the call.
She continues to deteriorate. And there is nothing that I can do. She will not seek help. She will not accept help. And she is not to the level that an intervention can occur without her consent.
I seldom feel this impotent, this helpless... and this hopeless. No one wins, and I guarantee this is not going to end well. For me or for her.
I know from my work that you can not help someone that does not want it. You cannot want something more than the person wants it for themselves... And the scariest part? I am just NUMB.
I am simply husked out.
I will one day have to deal with my mother's hoarding house. Never in a million years did I expect to have to deal with my brother's hoarding house before that time came. I understand how you feel. With my mother's house, I visit, so I know what I'll be up against, but with my brother, I learned the distinct difference between hoarding, and gross, filthy, extreme hoarding. Nothing can prepare you for what you will one day face if your mother is a gross, filthy hoarder. In the case of my brother, we'd been estranged because of my anger over my mother supporting him financially all these years, (he was 56) thus enabling his hoarding. He was a recluse who kept his windows cardboarded so no one knew how he was living. It was 2 weeks before anyone called authorities to check on him. At that point, the body was so badly decomposed that he was unidentifiable. I drove 12 hours to his Florida home to handle this for my 81 year old mother. In the end, it was a combination of extreme self neglect, alcohol, and hoarding that killed him. He tripped over a pile of his own hoarded stuff, hit his head, fell, and never woke up. This is fresh. Probate on the house is closing today. I also just returned from Texas where he left a storage unit full of crap which was covered in rat feces. He had 6 cats which were left homeless and confused. They escaped through a hole in the door and to this day I'm trying to find a no kill shelter that will respond to my pleas to go to the house to try to rescue them. The only way to maintain some semblance of sanity if your mother is a filthy hoarder is to look into companies that specialize in gross, filthy, extreme hoarding clean out now, then, look for an insurance company that will cover the cost and get that insurance! The clean out at my brother's was a bio-hazard because of the decomposed body. Then came a second contract for the clean-out. A total of $11,400.00. Prepare now, and look for a company that also provides the emotional support you will need. If you are like me, you'll be motivated by anger for being left with the horrible task you inherit when a hoarder dies. I never imagined facing the horrible ordeal I went through. It started on Feb 3rd, even with the help of a crew, it took 3 weeks to complete the task, and 2 dumpsters the length of the driveway. That was just the house, not the storage unit. In comparison, my mother's hoarding seems much more manageable to me now, because it is not filthy hoarding. I was having marital troubles before this happened so I can't even talk to my spouse about it, which is why I searched for an online support group. I thought it ironic. Before this happened I desperately wanted time away from my husband, I guess I should have been more specific. It sounds weird but despite the horror, it was still time away from him. That was the silver lining. The gross, filthy, disgusting silver lining. Good luck to you. I hope I can help others who are facing this prepare. You can't and shouldn't do it alone. Godspeed. Hang in there.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing with me, and I am so, so sorry you have had to go through that. Thank you for the practical advice as well.
ReplyDeleteFinding her dead and decomposed in a rotting house full of crap, and now, what appears to be biologicals and vermin is my worst, worst nightmare. All six of her cats are medically vulnerable (one has glaucoma and requires drops 4 times a day).
For me, I know it will never be truly over... but at least if I outlive her maybe she (and I!) might find some peace. The manipulative, emotional aerobics she does is simply soul-sucking sometimes.
((Hugs)) to you!