I’m a big fucking bummer today people. Be warned, I say “fuck” a lot in this post.
I wrote this blog last night and was feeling really sorry for Lonny and maybe a tad bit generous. I have since hardened my heart. But this is what I wrote:
Mostly I think Lonny needs our support. Even though he insists, perhaps rightly, that he is the only one who can sort clothing, we can help lighten his load by taking things to the garage, putting in shelves, and relieving him of some of the other things that he can let go of.
This project has been a beast, not just this week but all year. He has tolerated me taking my computer to bed with me, chucking shit out of the house, and being generally consumed with a a project that has taken over my life. Now I need to help him.
That was last night. Today is different. Today I am feeling despair. Lonny left the house around 9am this morning to get a new garbage disposal. Ours died yesterday and we were feeling glad that it didn’t shit the bed on Thanksgiving. That would have been awesome.
I took the boys to a class and some errands and expected to return to him working away at the piles.
Come 1:00 and he wasn’t home, I called him. He was shopping.
I felt like the wife of an alcoholic who has gone missing for the day, only to find him at a bar. That’s rather harsh and not entirely fair, but at the moment it was exactly how I felt.
I managed to stay calm and point out that he doesn’t need to shop because he has a surplus of merchandise that is clogging our home. His time is best spent here, dealing with it, and not avoiding the problem and adding to it by bringing home more stuff.
I sympathized that it is overwhelming at home and I understand that he wants to escape the thankless toil. Shopping is an escape because he enjoys the thrill of the hunt and buying something that he knows has excellent resale value feels good.
But it is also counterproductive because it is unlikely that he could find something more valuable than some of the stuff that has been sitting in this house for years. Valuable and not taken advantage of.
It broke my heart. I wanted to cry. Really. I wanted to sit down on the floor and cry.
I’m trying to be supportive. I try to see things from his perspective and have compassion and sympathy. I want him to feel appreciated and acknowledged for his gifts.
But I am so tired of this uphill battle. I wanted to scream GET HELP!!!
I fear that I am his enabler, especially as I spent my day moving every last thing out of the second floor. As I did my best to clear the dining room and sort the piles of clothes into similar categories. As I cleared a space in the basement to put his tape decks and obsolete electronics that he insists are collectible.
I have no doubt that there is someone out there who collects this stuff. But why does Lonny have to deal in all of it? Why can’t he choose just clothes and shoes? Why does he have to buy that fucking barbed wire that has a tag on it that says it was from some concentration camp that some sick fucker on the internet might want to buy for a lot of money?
Or Grateful Dead collectibles, or stacks of Time Magazines, or a box full of 8-tracks? Why must all this be his burden?
Everything he sees that is collectible must be bought and resold … eventually. It’s that perfectionism of the hoarder. Everything is so fucking valuable.
How valuable is this house when it is tidy and attractive to vacationers versus looking like a crazy junkyard? Really damn valuable. And what about me? How valuable am I?
I want him to choose me. To choose our home. To choose peace. To choose a less crazy life. I want him to stand back and see how insane this all is, how understanding and game I try to be and to appreciate that I loathe schlepping stuff up and down the stairs for a solid week but I do it anyway and I accept the role of the bad guy rather than feeling outraged.
I hate it when I feel like the only way to escape this madness is to escape him.
I’m escaping to my office and with me flee the dog and the kids. I don’t think they care about the clutter, they just want to be near me. Thank God.
What crap did I cut today? Loads. Bags of bags, a big box of stuff to go to the Salvation Army before Lonny digs everything out and stows it somewhere. And this longboard.