It hurts me when you come to my house on visit – whether you’re family members, friends or other relatives – and have the bad habit to judge my house and the way I handle it (and me with it).
You get particularly upset about the piles of stuff I have in the corners, the kitchen that needs some cleaning (it certainly does, but often I deal with lombalgy and I can barely stand, so that will have to wait) and my general predisposition to be a hoarder.
Well, here’s the thing: I love being a hoarder! Simply because the things I hoard make me happy.
Oh yes, sometimes it’s stressing when it’s also junk piling up, but I live by the mantra that health and happiness come first, so the junk can wait in the corner until I have the energy to get it sorted.
However, some of you have tried to force frugality and minimalism on me since I was a kid, to much of my sufferance and ultimately my rebellion.
I’m all good with people finding happiness with empty spaces and only a handful of ownings, but that’s not how I find my happiness.
My several belongings make me happy and usually empty spaces just make me feel like I’m drowning in a sea of understimulation (is that a phobia of empty spaces? I don’t even know if it has a name LOL). I need my stuff to create and ultimately feel comfortable that I can always rely on my ownings when I need something or I want to do something.
I love owning a lot of stuff (especially artsy and books) and if it piles up in the corners of my house… I’m absolutely fine with that, and to be honest that’s a nice view for my eyes.
Because those piles are made of gold! You have no idea how many times something that I bought years ago, never used and piled somewhere became useful at the very right moment! And I got out of trouble because I had it.
With my stuff, I always think long term: if I feel that something ‘belongs’ into my life, even when I have no immediate use of it, I buy it and keep it for when it becomes necessary.
Finally, as I told my kindest friends, if you visitors keep on judging my house and my way to handle it, I will politely point you to the entrance door and encourage you to use it for exit instead. (Well, ‘politely’ the first time; the second time I won’t be as polite.)
My house is the only place on Earth where I can be fully myself and be 100% happy. People who can’t respect that have no place among these walls.
I hope you understand me better the next time around, because I’m honestly so tired of repeating myself.
(And to you, reader, who read to this last paragraph… thanks for being here and silently reading my frustration. I appreciate that a ton, my sibling in humanity.)