Silence is a Lie

Hi Readers! I apologize for not posting for a while. It always seems like yesterday I said I was going to do better...and when I turn around yesterday was almost 2 months. Well, if I'm all forgiven then I'll just move on to writing. As you all know, I recently got my own place and this blog will explain one of the reasons. It's really hard to admit, but I believe that I will feel better once I get this out. I've been doing some studying lately and I found that confession is good...and confession is painful. But what I also learned is that confession heals, delivers, and sets free. And there are some things I want to be totally free from. I found this quote by Yvegeny Yvetushenko, a Russian poet, that I was quite enlightened by. Who would have thought that a black woman from Texas would find something in common with a Russian? Just goes to show that people is just people...no matter what part of the world or what race or gender. Any way, he said " When truth is replaced by silence, then the silence is a lie." I've been silent about the truth...and I'm tired of the lie.
So here I go...revealing another 'secret'. For about the last 10-15 years, my mom has been a hoarder. She buys things...dishes, vases, t.v.'s, dvd players, etc. that she's never used...never even opened. She has plenty of nice things, but no place to display them, because they are all stacked on top of each other. It has been a difficult life... not answering the door when people drop by unexpectedly, and then not answering the phone when they call...knowing that someone's home...never, not ever having friends or family over. My greatest disappointment was when my brother died. We couldn't have anyone over to comfort us, or bring us a meal, or pray with us. There's no place to sit, I couldn't offer them a glass of water, I couldn't promise they wouldn't have something crawling near or on them. We had to have the funeral car meet us at my aunt's house to go to the funeral. That was so hurtful and embarrassing and such a dishonor to my brother's memory.

While living there, I found that I was constantly irritable and agitated. I loathed going to the house after work. It was never home---(home is love, comfort, peace and joy, etc. , and we just didn't have it.)
One thing I came to realize is that people are quick to judge. They think you're being bourgie when you're just trying to protect yourself from embarrassment. If other family members could see the house, I know the first things they are going to say..."why do you live like this? why don't you just clean up?" It wasn't that simple. Many times I wished it was. But, hoarding is a serious illness, not just a bad habit. The person suffers from some sort of mental anguish that tells them that they need to hold on to things.. a lot of things... from useful and practical things to totally useless and impractical, broken, dirty things. There is no reasoning with her...no bargaining..no amount of pleading, no amount of pushing. I've tried all of that. I tried professional help, but she refuses. She doesn't see that she has a problem, it's always someone else that has a problem. As always, the first step to healing is to admit to self that there is a problem.
Because of this, I just couldn't deal with the stress anymore. I got out of the situation for my own self sanity. My family--aunts, uncles and cousins --think I'm the worst daughter for leaving my mom when she is so sick--I feel bad about it, but I've done the best I can do. I tried to help by being compassionate and taking her slowly...but it seems I did more harm than good. So I have totally given the situation to God.
You see, she's not the only one who suffers. My dad, my son and I suffer too. Not just because the house is unsanitary, and there's nowhere to sit, nowhere to cook, no way to have a normal life...but we have to watch her slowly die from the ailments caused by her excessive need for stuff. Yes, breathing debris when you are already asthmatic will have dire effects. So, I can endure the family's disapproval...as hard as that is. The even harder part for me is watching my mom lose her vitality, her spirit...and her life...all because it seems she loves her stuff more than her family...even herself. And as difficult as it is, I feel that it's best for me to walk away and leave her to what she thinks she wants.

The reason I chose to write about this is because it's eating me up inside. I'm praying to God to free me from the effects her hoarding has cause me and my son. Writing and praying about it is a release for me. And who knows, my writing about it just might help somebody else.

simply beautiful
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