One Wee Spark

September is National Suicide Prevention Month. As the month draws to a close, it's my prayer that we not forget the people around us who are silently struggling to justify doing another hard day. May every day be a day where those who have found the strength to do another day find the courage to share their stories. Each one matters. In the midst of a season where it felt like everything that mattered to me--dreams, identity, health--was being ripped from me, I found myself staring into a very deep chasm. Instead of hope, I felt violently overwhelmed. My pain appeared to be spilling over and affecting those I love the most.   Ending this now would save them the burden I'd become, the voice said to me. I could do this. I could keep plodding away through the quicksand. I could keep taking the slow, hard breaths. You could let some of the pain go if you... No. I could not entertain those thoughts.

This morning wasn't as tough as I expected. Knowing that today was the BIG DAY--Election Day 2016--had been bringing some anxiety and weariness to my heart and soul. But today, I have peace. Blessed peace. Which seems odd. I could not have peace today on my own. I know that I am simply not capable of it. There are so many questions tossing around in my head, my heart, and my soul today about the status of our country.

"Understand this, my dear brothers and sisters: You must be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry. Human anger does not produce the righteousness God desires. So get rid of all the filth and evil in your lives, and humbly accept the word God has planted in your hearts, for it has the power to save your souls." -James 1:19-21 NLT Joy and Anger Junk (PART 2)by MissDaniChan I've always had a short temper. It was really bad at times when I was younger. Cross me, and I would erupt into destructive forces like you may have never seen before. 

Forgive me. You've been so kind to follow and read my posts in the past. I've been busy. Not too busy for my readers; I deeply appreciate you. Just busy. But back in the Fall, I was super busy speaking at conferences in Washington State and California, primarily on the effects to the child who grows up in hoarding. It was tough to speak on such a personal topic. I know you understand. I speak all the time. To social workers; to municipal employees and agencies; to mental health providers; to the community-at-large; to magazine, news channel and newspaper reporters. But this Fall, I took on a new stage, literally, at TedxSpokane--'Knowing It Again.' I did it for you. For your friends who don't get it. For your HPs who don't know they need help or understanding. For our children whose generation can do better. Please feel free to share this. As far as I can tell, this is the first TedTalk done specifically on hoarding. This message needs to get o...

It was six years ago this fall that my mother fell in between the piles of trash , treasures and trinkets in her home, leading to the most difficult season in my life thus far. I wandered through that period with few resources and guides. It wasn't that no one else had been in a similar situation. It was that so many families and individuals were keeping the hoarding secret held so closely and tightly that I did not have access to their knowledge, their experience, their wisdom. Swirling Question, courtesy of flickr But no more! More and more families are sharing their secrets and offering advice. My brothers and sisters from the hoard (along with myself) are finding our voices and helping others find their way through these tough situations. If today you find yourself on the brink of a forced hoarding intervention, or if you simply know that someday you may find yourself there , I hope you will head over and check out this list of questions I've put together. Helping ...

Blogging has really evolved over the last five years. Although there are still many who blog for purely hobby or family, most blogs today are an affordable way to begin creating a platform to reach others who need the information you already possess. If you started blogging years ago for personal, family, or as a hobby, you may find that your current efforts to build a regular readership, find new clients, or recruit new business partnerships seem to be limited by the noise from these previous efforts. It may be time to consider a move. courtesy of Nathan O'Nions at flickr When I began writing here nearly six years ago, my journey was much like that of Hansel and Gretel. I was wandering through the dark wood of my childhood, leaving breadcrumbs in case I lost my way. There were many times I came back here to revisit my journey, rechecking that I was not, in fact, lost along my way. Somewhere along my journey, however, I realized that I was no longer headed toward the witch...

That old question came back to me today: Why am I here? Is there a reason for this life of mine? It's not a question rooted in anxiety or depression today, but rather is rooted in a perspective of looking back, reflecting on what has been so far. Borrowed from InnatCascade.com This life, my life, has not been easy. I suppose, most of us would say that if we were asked. It's not something special or unique to me. Life, it turns out, is tough for most of us in some way.

In my quiet time this morning, I was reading from Mark 10 , the story of Blind Bartimaeus. It is a very short story considering what happens. As Jesus enters and then leaves Jericho, a crowd follows Him. This is a pretty common experience for Jesus and His disciples. (Jericho is the same town that Jesus passed through and happened upon Zacchaeus, the story is found in Luke 19 ). Besides the fact that both Zacchaeus and Bartimaeus encountered Jesus in a meaningful way as He passed through Jericho, both men were seeking Jesus. Zacchaeus wanted to see Jesus but found the crowds were too big, and being short in stature, decided to run ahead of the crowd. When he got ahead of the crowds, he climbed into a sycamore-fig tree. Have you stopped to think about that? Imagine for just a second that you are at a political rally in your own neighborhood. There's a candidate who seems to offer true hope for your community, your life, your neighbors' lives. But there's a huge cro...

Borrowed from thewatershed.com As a child growing up in the emotional and environmental chaos that is a hoarded home, I believed that somehow my desire to change or help my mother find her own change was enough. Psychologists call it magical thinking, and it occurs for all children to differing degrees. Magical thinking is the belief that a child has that somehow their actions initiate or stop other actions that are independent of their actual abilities.  But many children grow up to become broken, hurt adults (as I am and continue to overcome) that have not been able to identify how their magical thinking is simply that... M  A  G  I  C  A  L.

[Credit is due to my dear friend TLH for the word picture contained herein. It's all my writing, but I owe her for the visual that helped me find "my way" so to speak!] Have you ever been on a road trip in a city that you were not familiar with, and although relying heavily on your trusty GPS when you realize that you've made a turn just seconds before the GPS dialogue begins, "Recalculating...?" Honestly, I find that female voice slightly condescending as she points out what I've already realized. Duh! I know! And yet, twenty minutes later, that same female voice warns me to bear left when the freeway forks ahead. That voice is calm and soothing when it guides me, welcoming and reassuring.

It is with great joy and humility that I announce that we are offering another facilitated self-help group in Spokane, Washington for those who struggle with an excessive accumulation of things, clutter, and/or hoarding! Lightening the Load, a ministry of Sheltering Tree Church announces the 2nd Buried In Treasures Workshop! Beginning on Wednesday, 12/12/12 at...you guessed it! 12 Noon! The workshop consists of 15 two-hour sessions, and ends in early May.

It's been a while since I've posted on here...but I felt like today, I should share this thing I'm in the middle of. It's not a bad thing, per se...but it involves perhaps one of the toughest elements of change--embracing a new perspective about oneself. In other words, I am embracing "the real Ceci G", and becoming comfortable with who she is, further defining what I am not, and looking more realistically at what I can become. It's as if, in some ways, I'm looking at the whole world in a new perspective simply by looking more honestly at me.

Last summer, I had the humbling privilege of meeting with a group of approximately 20 adult "children of hoarders" at the Dante House, with our host, Dr. Suzanne Chabaud . Dr. Chabaud was preparing to open her online survey of adult children from hoarded homes, and this group came together to share commonalities, offer support, and to become empowered to make change for others like us, especially those children who might still be living in a hoarded home. One of my colleagues, Momma B, as I call her, has been writing for years as a way to move through the chaos of her childhood. Her blog is on my list over there <--------. But just recently, her book by the same name, Nice Children Stolen From Car, became available for purchase. http://www.amazon.com/Nice-Children-Stolen-Car-1/dp/1475192630/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337734821&sr=1-1 I strongly encourage you, no! I beg you! to click on the link and purchase Barbara Allen's book. Plus, if you...

Today is Valentine's Day, in case any of you haven't already heard. It was also group night. With a newspaper article in the local paper since our last meeting, I was feeling very optimistic that tonight, I would not be THE group. And I wasn't disappointed. Five minutes till seven, he walked in. We'll call him Grandpa Joe. He is NOT the adult child of a hoarder. He's a hoarder, admittedly, and he is looking for help. We sat and spoke to Joe for 45 minutes. He told us about his current project, clearing out an estate. Apparently, the woman who has passed on had a strong desire for Christmas decorations. He had already moved three loads of Christmas decor from her home TODAY. The last load was still in his SUV outside.

I grew up in a house that was far from "Home Sweet Home". The conditions of my home, the relationship between my mother and myself, and the dichotomy of my self at home and my self outside of the home stripped any positive connotations from the word home. I'm not alone.  Last summer, I was blessed to be part of a small group of adults who grew up in homes like mine. Our wonderful hostess and champion, Dr. Suzanne Chabaud, invited us to join her in New Orleans for a Summit of adult-children of hoarders. She welcomed us to the Dante house with open doors, and open arms. All of us were touched deeply by our experience. This week, I got the opportunity to return to visit Dr. Chabaud. My brothers and sisters from the hoard were not all here, and so the dynamic was different, but when I walked through the back door of the Dante house and through the kitchen, I was transformed. Where my childhood home had so many negative memories attached to it, this house has on...

"White lies" became a regular and normal part of my childhood. I've heard others tell stories about the elaborate tales of renovation that were built and concocted to keep friends and family away from the family home, the hoard. I was never that creative. I would say something along the lines of the house being a mess, believing that no one would truly suspect the truth--the house was a MESS! It hit me recently that I still have trouble telling the truth in situations where it really doesn't make a difference whether I tell the truth or not. It disturbs me to think that telling a half-truth or painting a beautiful deception is not only easy for me, but that my moral compass does not readily stop me from doing it. Borrowed from Mark Pocan, WI representative, personal blog For instance, I have told a lie about my abilities in gymnastics and tumbling since I was a small child. I'm not sure how the lie first reared its ugly head, but like a zit that is touched...

This hasn't been a bad week by any stretch, but my energy level has been nil since Wednesday afternoon. I don't know if it's because I had put so much energy into being right on the news interview, or because I donated blood that afternoon, or maybe it's just been a week with more need for energy than sleep obtained. It doesn't matter.

More than an extra Borrowed from "Asphyxia" on Squidoo dot com For most of my life, I've lived as though I were simply an extra in the film of life. I showed up, I did my part, but I didn't make any decisions, I didn't have a voice of my own, and I sure didn't take (or get) any credit for my role. This is the fate that growing up in a dysfunctional home handed me. For a while. No matter what background I come from, I hold a powerful tool in my hands. It's called choice.

Today, I'm preparing to meet with a member of the local news station to share my personal story of recovery. A friend encouraged me to reach out more to the media to help promote the local group. At first, I balked at the idea. I was afraid the focus would become me, and not the group. I decided to reach out to the local press anyways.

Something I've struggled with for just about as long as I can remember is an ability to dream and plan. For most of my adult life, if you asked me where I wanted to be, what I wanted to achieve in the next five years, I'd look at you with a blank stare. Who me? Borrowed from YourSoulGuidance dot com I have no idea!