How much stuff does one person need...

For one to be considered a hoarder, he/she has to have an abundance of "stuff".  It could be organized, piled up, strewn about, or taking over the house, but most of all it consumes the person it belongs to. It becomes a cancer that is very hard to treat and get under control.
After searching the internet for lists of what the "average" person has in his/her household, I found it difficult to come up with anything.

I have read multiple lists of what one needs for a new house- from furniture to cleaning supplies, articles connected to poverty and what essentials we need to survive, and this article on a blog called LifeHack.
The author of this particular article listed 3 reasons as to why he held on to his extra stuff he had:

• To avoid the discomfort of empty space 

• To meet the expectations of a social group

• Because procurement is enjoyable

Yep. I totally get it.

Sterile and minimal are two different feelings. My house was sterile.  I brought in things to the house that would warm it up. I have yet to put them up. I want a minimal and simple look, while functional at the same time.

My bedroom was empty after my Hoarders friends were here. My room was physically cold and I felt like I was guest in my own house.  It was a horrible feeling.  I ending up moving some furniture around and unloaded some boxes, and brought items back in that I was going to hang up. Those pictures are still on my desk waiting to be hung up. My clothes have crept out of my closet to be sorted through for consignment and give away- I just can't seem to get through it in a weekend. This is not normal.  I have a perfect picture in my head of what it should look like.  My room is not functional. It's the company I keep. I'm not ready for empty space.

The pictures that I have of the spaces in my head look perfect, seem realistic, yet are so out of reach. It may be due to my issue of perfection.  If it isn't going right, I quit.  It it doesn't look right, I find something else to do.  I'm so hyper-aware of this issue, that I don't like starting the project, but in the end there is failure right around the corner. I've gotten so used to things being done so-so to my liking, that I've lived with it. I'm craving to be "good" at something again, while enjoying it.  Failure is not socially acceptable, nor is it what others expect from me.  It's horrible to disappoint people who love you, but those who look up to you.

I envy people who can clean their house in 2-4 hours.  I have no idea what that reality is- I've never experienced that as an adult in my personal living space. 
My grandma would kill me (if she weren't already dead) if she knew about my situation and the TV show.  I struggled as kid to clean my room and had a mini-intervention in 6th grade.  Dona bagged up everything that was on the carpet and brought everything to her garage and I had to earn the items back. This included my clothing. To top if off I received a City Dump laundry bag after. From middle school through high school my room stayed cleaned and I developed some OCD tendencies. It was one of the things I could control. Junior and senior year in college I started having "organization" issues and found the procurement of items enjoyable.  It soothed the depression I was dealing with, yet it seemed okay because I was "planning" for being a teacher and living alone in an apartment.  Being prepared was essential in my mind. Preparedness = happiness.

Clearly I've been to therapy (a lot) and I know what my issues are.  What's worse is knowing you need to fix it having to repeat and repeat and repeat.


P.S. I still haven't found a suggested list of what one should own.

Not So Sweet Home

I've had the house for 5.9 years. I have a love/ hate relationship with it.
I love the air conditioning unit and the insulation that the ceiling has to keep my electricity bill low in the winter and summer months.
 I hate that I have yet to finish painting the upstairs (there is still green painters tape along the walls and ceiling) because I have yet to choose a color that I love.
I never eat at my kitchen table.  I can count the amount of times this has occurred on my hands over the past 5 years.  It is currently holding craft projects, cook books, place mats, napkins, and office supplies. It's a nice table.  I am fortunate enough that the boyfriend lives around the corner and I'm a fixture in his home and have my own key.
I also have some super pieces of furniture and they are hidden and unused.  Pathetic.  I kept my favorite pieces when I did the major clean out.
I have this picture in my head of what would be  "perfect" and it has yet to come to fruition.
I love the high ceiling upstairs and how the garden level basement stays cool and has full size windows.
Unfortunately the hates outweigh the loves.
I keep telling myself that if I finish the house and make it a home, I'll love it.
I have the tile for the bathrooms, the vanities, the kitchen cabinets, hardware, new stove and more.
Deep down inside I think it's because I know the boyfriend dislikes my house and it's not right for the 2 of us.
His house is a much better fit.
I also had a dog who lives here who likes to sleep in my bed. Retraining a rescue dog (who was left to die in a rolled up carpet) to sleep in a crate was unsuccessful when she came to me.
My house is lonely, which is why it's not "cute", and not yet a home.

Book Smart...Move

The book fairy visited school this past week.

As I was unloading the bag of books I had brought in, I noticed my mom had slipped in a few extra books.  My favorite was a book on relationships for couples from the 80's with an ugly pink and purple cover. It screamed "Bring Sex Back to Your Marriage".  I couldn't even think of why my mom even had the book- she was pregnant with my brother and sister during this decade.

There was no way I was taking the book up to my classroom.
I left it, and the other duds in the bag, thinking I'd bring it back with me to donate on the way home.
Teachers are nosy, by nature, and raided the books, and emptied bag. Most of the books, even a few duds, were gone and will be at new homes. Sweet success.  Not so sweet, the couples book was still sitting pretty, center of the table.

I'm sure my co-workers were wondering, "Who the hell would bring a book like that to donate to book basket?" That would be me, Grace.