A love/hate relationship
When I left home at 18, I felt such a great relief at being out of the reach of my HP (hoarding parent). I would later find out that much of my mother's personality that drove me crazy was due to untreated bipolar disorder, and not necessarily her hoarding issues, but what I knew then was that if I didn't get out somehow , I would lose my own mind. But shortly after leaving, as the holidays approached, birthdays were celebrated, and I realized that my support system had been dramatically pruned, I missed my mother--the good parts of her--deeply. For all the bad that I had survived, she was my mother. I loved her; I hated her. I've read stories and blogs by other COHs who share a similar experience with their HP. On the one hand, the condition of the home and the insanity that hoarding marked drove them crazy. They hate how this mental illness has robbed them of a "healthy, normal" childhood, and yet as the same time they want nothing more than for their HP to have...