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Showing posts from October 23, 2011

I Need You to Love Me

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I've been reading books for over two years now about facing the ugly truths that are our pasts, acknowledging them, rolling around in the pain and feeling it deeply so as to let it go and move forward. This process really began a lot longer than just two years ago. I began this process the first time nine years ago, back in 2002 when my first marriage was crumbling around me.

One of the most hurtful things that came out of my first marriage falling apart was an accusation my ex made:

You tell me all the time that you love me, but I don't feel loved.

An Open Letter to Mental Health Providers

To Whom It May Concern:

It has come to my attention that many of you have been contacted or seen a patient whose parent is a hoarder. Many of you are treating hoarders although you have not been through the training recommended by the OCD Foundation and the researchers who are treating this.

I believe that you are well-meaning. I'm a glass half full kind of gal. Until proven otherwise, I will believe that your intention is to help people. But inadvertently, you are hurting a block of society.

When the adult child of a hoarder comes to you and describes the filth and hell that they grew up in, no matter how surprised you are, please do NOT say, "Oh my goodness!" with a look of shock and horror plastered across your face. It is a very difficult thing to show up in someone's office and talk about this family secret. This is exactly what we fear the most--shock and horror.

Teachable Moments: It's Not Fine, But I Forgive You

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Being a mom is a funny time. For every lesson I teach my children, they teach or illuminate a point for me. I find this is especially true when it comes to interpersonal relationships and boundaries, big issues in the process of recovery. I was an only child so besides growing up in the dark secret of the hoard, I didn't have the social opportunity with a sibling that my children are blessed with.
Last Thursday, on the way to Mid-Week Service, my oldest two were having a bit of an issue communicating. They are only 13 months apart, and the older one has some anxiety about learning to drive. Michael told the older Bekah that at this rate he'd be driving first. Bekah found this statement to be hurtful, but instead of speaking up she began to shut down.