Bang. Bang. Bang.
That is the sound on my head on the steering wheel when I call my hoarding mother and she takes a left turn into absolute... Well, judge for yourself...
________
Let me set the stage for this one. Last Friday night I attended a Gala in a town 50 minutes away from my home. I left early 10:30pm as I had a bit of a drive and had been up since 4:30am that morning. My phone rang and it was my hoarding mother. She had just picked up her 20 year old Honda from the autobody/collision center in her town (see the previous 2 blogs for THAT story if you are interested) and she had only had the car home 6 hours and was already starting her stuff.
"What is a fender skirt? Why I am asking is when I look in the wheel well I see a circular rod and..."
That is your strut. It is fine. [Explain what a fender skirt is, how it attaches, and what she would see if it were not there...] "Well, I have NEVER seen that round thing before behind the tire... All I could think is 'here we go again!' and I ..." Gotta go. Goodnight.
The next day...
"I found a rubber... well, let me try to describe this... [awkward and useless description of a rubber square with a hole in the center]... What is that to?" Um... shove it through the phone and perhaps I can tell you...
Today...
"Is there supposed to be a rubber gasket all the way around the hood?" No. "Well why not?" Because it doesn't need it. "Well I think it should have it! I think..."
Also today, but a brief respite from the car drama...
"I saw in Dear Abby that it is insulting to call the partner of a gay person their 'friend'. What is wrong with it?" <<headsteeringwheel>>
Thanks for reading! Have a great week!
My name is Lisabeth, and I am the adult child of a compulsive hoarding mother. The take away from my journey is that the hoard is merely a symptom of a life threatening, relationship-destroying mental illness. An illness that often includes behaviors from addiction, child/domestic abuse, and personality disorders such as narcissistic personality disorder. Stay, read, and please, by all means, intervene if you see a child being raised in the shadow of the hoard.
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