Hoarders is a show that scares the bejeezus out of me. Those poor people are living in absolute squalor and filth. Not throwing garbage away? That's horrible. Who could live in a mess like that? Why would anyone want the torture of being surrounded by every stinky, slimy piece of crap that ever came into their life?
Wait a minute. I am an emotional hoarder!!!
Sorry, TLC. Carry on.
So it's true. I am an emotional hoarder. I didn't even realize that such a condition existed but a girl does a lot of self-reflecting at three o'clock in the morning. My suggestion, by the way, is to stay away from TLC at that hour. You may think you're watching Extreme Couponing and wake up to a Wedding Story / Baby Story --- talk about torture!
Anywho, I realized that I have been hoarding every past relationship since I was a teenager. In the closet in my old room are boxes filled with love letters from boyfriends past. (Don't even get me started on my wedding photos!) I can't bring myself to throw them out. I can't imagine letting go of the affection once felt for me by someone who has since moved on.
Sick, I know.
The difference between the relationships of yesterday and today is that in the mid-90's when a boy broke my heart, I could box up all his hand-written notes and cards and gifts, stick them on the top shelf of my closet and never think about them again. In 2011 however, the entire contents of my relationship with Kit - including our break up - is on my phone. It's on my computer. It's on my facebook. It's on my blog. I carry it around with me everywhere I go and every so often, I can't help but look at it.
I am an emotional hoarder, surrounding myself with every stinky, slimy piece of crap that ever came into my life.
Just to make sure I felt *extra* awful last night, I went back and read every single text message we ever sent to each other. Every. Single. One. See the thing about an iPhone is that it keeps all your messages for you. Six months of conversation in the palm of your hand. Thank you, Steve Jobs.
Was that enough heartache for one evening? No. Of course not. A good emotional hoarder also keeps every voicemail and replays them post break-up. Just to hear his voice one more time. Just to rub salt in the wound.
And finally, just when I thought I'd really had enough, just when I thought it couldn't hurt any worse, I went back and read the entire conversation between Kit & Erica. His betrayal burned into the backs of my eyes. The scab picked over. The wound freshly bleeding.
I might as well collect dirty dishes and moldy cheese and broken glass and strew them around my floor. It would be less painful than recalling love gained and love lost.
While I cannot guarantee that I will spend today deleting his texts / voicemails / emails etc, I have at least identified the issue and I do know how to fix it. After all, the first step is admitting you have a problem, yes?
Hello, my name is Kimberly and I am an emotional hoarder.