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Tuesday 12th 56F. Overcast. Sunshine is promised for later. Up at 6am after waking much earlier. I am learning to doze. The circular thought patterns and reliving my failures are beginning to fade.
We didn't seek contacts. The situation at home did not lend itself to invitations to visit. Which made even the most informal, social reciprocation impossible.
With perfect hindsight it could have been very different, but wasn't. It is far too late to do anything about it now. I must keep tidying. Making the place more habitable, presentable, acceptable even hospitable. Despite my small victories there is still a very long way to go. I frame my published pictures with the care of a propaganda journalist.
The main problem is deciding what to do with the remaining "clutter." Every item has close associations with my late wife. I am still not ready to simply dump everything in the bin and move on. It is much too painful. I literally haven't touched her side of the bedroom. Though she managed to take over every inch of the space available. Except for my bed and a small access aisle. To reach her own bed by going around mine.
Do not think that anything was remotely "household rubbish." Not like the extreme hoarders you see on TV. Everything was potentially useful, tidy and/or covered by draped material. Mostly in boxes, baskets or containers. There was, quite literally, just far too much "stuff."
She had reached saturation point. Beyond which she would have needed more outbuildings. She constantly complained about my untidy sheds. Even though she had taken over large sections for her own collection. Stuff she would never look at from one decade to the next. Even stacks of her mother's belongings and papers from decades ago.
I am not complaining. Nor "telling tales." Against which she cannot defend herself. Just trying to warn others of the extreme difficulties of being one and living with another hoarder. It can be negatively, life changing. Certainly extremely limiting in so many unimaginable ways.
The sheer burden of over-possession is a severe handicap. Crippling to all the senses. A constant load on the memory. Desperately trying to keep track of everything. Even when you no longer look at it from one decade to the next. The narrowing of the senses to avoid accepting the hideous reality of the situation. Closing one's eyes to avoid stimulus overload from stacks of "stuff."
Hoarding is a mental illness. I felt relief at ridding myself of several of my "valued" collections. There is still a long way to go before I can cure myself. Let alone deal with how our shared behaviour affected our relationship. To each other and the world beyond our closed bubble of shame.
To be a hoarder is to accept limitations on so many things. Not least a lack of space. The lack of freedom. The constant insecurity. Each and every single item cumulatively chains you to a lesser form of living. You are mentally and physically weighed down by your "stuff."
It becomes a very strange norm. One which one dare not share for fear of discovery. Which closes off so many avenues for informal friendship and socialising. Where even having a neighbour pop in for a coffee. Would bring the whole, hideous edifice crashing down around your ears!
The gravel drive needs attention. The previous neighbours used to rake it with their assorted tractors. Which did a fair job of keeping the potholes at bay. It is/was supposed to be a shared responsibility. Though some of the previous neighbours [now gone] never contributed to the upkeep. Even though they were the prime users. With multiple vehicles coming and going at all hours.
13.00 76F. A long, warm and sunny morning. The farm museum was truly vast, fascinating and the other volunteers very friendly. There was no problem understanding what I could hear clearly. I shall be going back tomorrow. Perhaps to do some linseed oil painting on the old woodwork of the half-timbered buildings. Much like painting the Forth bridge. As soon as you finish one end you have to start all over again.
Some very old furniture needs moving upstairs. Which sounds just like my sort of thing. The small paned windows need to be wiped internally. Being single glazed they readily "steam up" and attract dust. There are over a thousand, wavy glass panes to attend to. With a very limited number of volunteer's working hours to go around.
One highlight was the mid-morning arrival of over 20 cyclists of around my own age. The majority were riding electrically assisted bikes. They had dropped in, on a ride, to sit and eat at the picnic tables. It was a wonderfully cheerful and informal atmosphere. Under a perfect, dappled sky in bright sunshine. Many sported serious tans.
I was surprised how tired I felt by lunch time. Despite not having done anything much. Except chat and join the [one hour] guided tour. The [elderly] lady guide was really excellent. A truly remarkable knowledge base. With the capacity to remember so many details. While responding instantly to any comments or questions.
I have just received an email. Confirming an appointment at the city hospital for a full hearing test in October. The fitting of the hearing aid will take place in November. One of the equally elderly visitors was wearing twin hearing aids. So I was able to examine them at close range without drawing attention. I had no idea if they were commercial models or health service supplied. The wearer seemed perfectly relaxed and able to converse perfectly normally. In different surroundings. Both indoors and out.
I bought a discounted, green lampshade. To match the three over the worktop in the kitchen. The new, slightly larger shade, is now hanging in the front hall. I have been very pleased with the new LED lights and lampshades. A beautifully clean and crisp form of lighting.
My wife would rely on the light in the cooker, extractor hood. Which was a very inferior and localized light. I know it seems utterly trivial but the lighting is another, important step. Towards rehabilitation the house's interior.
The upper gable end will be re-clad in vertical timber slats. So these could be carried further down. To fit under the new window sill. As well as to each side of the window. An image search shows there are plenty of precedents for cladding below a gable end window.
Ideally the cladding would cover the entire gable end. Right down to the ground. With thick insulation behind it. However, external insulation must be carried out by approved contractors. Making it ridiculously expensive for the return on the insanely heavy investment.
Dinner was salad with tuna, mature Cheddar cheese and poached eggs. And, I didn't even burn the lettuce!
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