Confessions of a Hoarder.

Confessions of a Hoarder

I didn’t plan to end up like this. It started with one box, then another. Things I couldn’t throw away because they meant something, or maybe they didn’t. I told myself I’d sort them out one day. One day turned into ten years.

I have newspapers stacked by the door, clothes I don’t wear piled on chairs, and broken gadgets I swear I’ll fix. I keep birthday cards from people I no longer speak to and receipts from shops that closed down years ago.

Some nights I sit in the middle of it all, just looking. Part of me feels safe surrounded by these things. Another part feels trapped.

Friends stopped visiting. They said it smelled musty. They said it was unhealthy. I said I’d clean up soon, but I never did.

I’m not lazy. I get tired. I get overwhelmed. Every time I try to clear a space, I find memories tangled in the dust. How do you throw away your past?

But yesterday, I threw out three magazines. That’s not much, but it’s a start.

Maybe next week, I’ll clear the hallway. Maybe.

Maybe next week I will add to it. I am a self confessed hoarder called Alice Barns