Reasons I Collect (Part II)

Fear. It seems lately that every post I write somehow comes back to this one little word. Then, I looked at it closely and realized it's not just a little word. It's a four letter word that starts with the letter F. Perhaps this is the real F word that I should have grown up knowing it was a "bad word."  It's far more damaging than the other one, after all.

So, why am I so very familiar with it? Well, I'm going to let you in on some "secrets" that I'm sure others would prefer I kept all to myself. I'm not going to hoard those secrets though. I'm going to let them out and I'm going to be real about how they've made me into the person that I am today. After all, we've agreed that hoarding is bad and that this is my place to clear out the bad emotion along with all of the stuff I've spent my life collecting.

Growing up, I was raised by my grandparents. They were/are good people but it's not the same as being raised by your parents. I envied my friends who had two parents at home and grandparents to go visit. I didn't have that luxury. I had a father who took off on a trip across the country and who went on to father 2 more children who he treated as if they were gold, while my sister and I were worth less than a copper penny. I don't remember him being a part of my childhood except for two occasions.

On the other hand, my mother was around. She was around to tell me that she hated me and wished I'd never been born because I'd ruined her life. She was around to kick me out of her house and to tell me not to ever come back after my younger brother blatantly disobeyed me while I was babysitting and took off and called her at work with some story. The fact that I had adult witnesses didn't count for anything. She was around to make me promises of doll houses and Disney World that never happened. She knew they wouldn't happen but she told me them anyway. As a child, I believed her.

I learned the fear of abandonment at the age of perhaps 2 when I was left with my grandparents. I was taught that I couldn't trust my own parents by their actions. Do you know what happens when you learn you can't trust the very people who should be teaching you about trust and love? You have a hard time trusting anyone. I learned when I was young that people prefer little girls with long blonde hair from listening to them always comment on my sister's hair and ignoring how I looked. I never thought I was pretty.  I thought the boys in high school didn't want to date me because I wasn't as pretty as the other girls.

Remember how I said I surround myself with things because they can't abandon me? This is where it all started. It continued with me marrying the first man who I honestly thought loved me. Now, I'm not saying that he didn't, but I will say that when you're 19, you shouldn't marry the first man who you think loves you. The marriage wasn't meant to last and I don't regret it. However, I do regret that my low self-esteem and fears just continued to grow throughout that time. My collecting really kicked into gear about that time, as well.

After the divorce, I moved 8 hours away from my boys and everything got worse. I started collecting more items because I couldn't handle the pain of being away from them. Since they were born, they were my world. Heck, they still are. I would do anything for those two. My fears that they would think I was like my parents drove me to surround myself with even more items.

Now, I'm back living near them. Not near enough, but a heck of a lot closer. I'm making..yes, making myself go out from time to time to meet new people with similar interests. It's not easy. I know that when I go out, I come across as this confidant person but deep down, I am terrified that these people will reject me. It's so much easier to stay in my house surrounded by my things than to risk that. I need to risk it though. I need to get out there just like I need to continue purging items from this house.