Feelings, upon preparing to sort through a lifetime of stuff

[bironic]

My dad is what you could affectionately call a pack rat. Or non-affectionately call a high-functioning hoarder as you side-eye the stuff crammed into the attic, crawl spaces, rafters, basement, garage and shed of the otherwise lovely house he's lived in for more than 20 years and now shares with his (understandably distressed) fiancée, E.

A random sampling of said stuff from the basement alone is likely to include: piles of office supplies, tools, housewares, teaching materials, computers and printers from 1980ish to present, a mini fridge of questionable function, decades of National Geographics and woodworking magazines that he "might need to reference" one day, books, curtains from the '70s, dismantled furniture, family mementos, two empty fish tanks, decades of schoolwork and toys, and the crib from when my now-29-year-old sister was a baby. Items that have sentimental, monetary or practical value—and a lot of junk.

He does not like letting things go. When we moved, my mom says, he was willing to sell some items at a garage sale but refused to throw out anything that was left, including little scraps of paper. I believe he is one of those people who have difficulty separating emotions and memories from physical objects. Rejecting an object that belonged to him or that was a gift from him upsets him, likely because it is a symbol of rejecting him. (I don't have enough insight into his childhood to analyze why that might be, but it's not like he grew up an orphan or in poverty or during the Great Depression.) So it is more or less a miracle that E. has convinced him that something needs to be done before the place spontaneously combusts. And it was with a sense of relief that I accepted his request to spend some time up in NY and start clearing out the basement as a Father's Day gift. I'd always figured it wouldn't happen until he'd passed away.

The catch, if you can call it that, is that he wants me (and my sister) to tackle "our things" first—the 30 or so years of stuff stored in boxes and bins about which he's always said, "You'll want it when you're older." Well, we're older, we still don't want most of it, and finally he is ready to hear it. And if he isn't ready, then he is going to be banned from the room while we sift through everything and decide what to do with it all. What you don't see can't hurt you.

As the date draws near, however—am taking the train on Wednesday—I'm fretting more about how I will react to digging up the past. Opening myself up to feelings instead of raising the force field of upbeat indifference. Because it's always easier to toss someone else's stuff. The last time I visited, back in February, when we started to make a dent just to clear enough floor space for us to make the necessary piles during this next phase, I had no problem working to convince my dad that he didn't need three aged TVs in addition to the two actually in use in the house, or the questionably functioning laserjets he'd been saving for either spare parts (that are no longer compatible with anything) or for someone's kid going away to college (who could get a much smaller and less anvil-like printer for cheap). I mean, no luck getting him to part with umpteen piles of wood and the magazines and the fridge—instead, we employed the usual "let's move it somewhere else for now" method—but I was ready to chuck 'em. I'm ready to ransack his "half" of the basement. Easy.

But now is not that time. Now is the time for my sister and me to deal with our own, and I don't know what we'll find. Some of it will be easy to let go; I don't need the centerpieces from my bat mitzvah or the supplies from when we had a guinea pig or the ancient Visible Woman we never constructed, all of which I know are in there. Some I will probably want to keep. Of that, I will have to assess volume, because I live in a studio apartment and don't want to start saddling myself with storage units. And some… I don't know. There's bound to be a heap of "What do we do with this?" Stuff that we haven't thought about since we were kids, but once we rediscover it, might not be sure if we want to part with it. Stuff that will uncover my own weaknesses, like *cough* books. Stuff that might make me question my confidence in having a reasonable approach to materialism and the sufficiency of memories.

In a way it would be easier to toss everything without looking at it. It would have been easier if we'd made these decisions back when we or he packed up another batch of who-knows-what and stuck it in the crawl space to begin with. But a trip down memory lane also sounds like fun. Nostalgic, possibly teary, alternately joyful and depressing, fun.

So, friends. I come to you to share a plan of attack and to ask if any of you have dealt with similar situations and might have advice. How do you decide what to let go? How do you navigate other people's delicate emotions? (In February, E. cried and my dad clammed up/stood around staring helplessly.) How do you deal with your own? We have some go-to charities, but are there any in particular in this arena that you love? Is it an adult child's place to recommend or seek counseling for the object-attached parent? Etc.

Tactics:

• Digitize. My sister and I will have cameras. We expect that taking pictures will be all we need of many of the nostalgic items. It'll also be possible to scan paper items; JPGs take up much less space than binders.
• Decimate. If I uncover a box of, like, cute schoolwork from age five, take one piece of art or a sheet on which I learned to write the alphabet and let go of the rest. Ditto for the Star Trek paperbacks I know are lurking in there somewhere; take a couple of favorites only, if that much. Bite the bullet and ask for an e-reader for my birthday.
• Regift. Giving Legos, Barbies and who knows what other toys and games to friends' children means we know they're going to a good home.
• Write. I'm going to take a notebook for jotting down memories that pop up or to work through anything difficult.
• Make piles. I think the first-pass piles will be "keep" and "don't keep." As time allows, "don't keep" then gets sorted into sell, donate, give to friends/kids, and throw out/recycle. There'll probably also be a pile of "hold for future decision."

All that being said... the whole thing might be fine. It might be fun and done quickly, with the bulk of work falling on the donation/sale side.

We'll see.

Comments

[pwcorgigirl.livejournal.com]

I hope it will be fun. I cleaned out my mother's house twice, once before and once after she moved into assisted living, and it was mostly sheer hard work, but my sibling wasn't around to help me. I rented a dumpster the second time, which saved me making endless trips to the dump and the charity thrift store.

In the end, I kept only a few things: some photo albums, a bedspread my grandmother crocheted, a few dishes and some china, a plaque with my infant hand and footprints on it. My brother kept a lot of stuff (mostly appliances and some furniture) and the rest we sold, gave away, or took to the dump. (Mom was a dedicated packrat, and I found mildewed nightgowns in her closet she hadn't worn in 30 years, along with tons of ancient canned food, cleaning products, and toiletries that I know dated back to 1963.) My approach in dejunking is to take three heavy-duty trash bags or boxes: one to keep, one to donate, one for trash. I am not very sentimental about stuff, so I worked pretty fast.

When you sit down to take a rest, you can go through your keep box and make more decisions. Taking photos is a great idea for preserving the memory without taking up much space, and it's really nice that your Legos and old Barbies may find a home with other children. I used to love getting our cousins' old toys when their parents would have a clean-out. :)

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Thank you for this. You make it sound very normal and simple. :) That's funny about the old nightgowns. I, uh, definitely have a few tiny ones in my old bedroom dresser from my grandmother, which I will never ever be able to wear - note to self: put those in the "do not keep" pile. Maybe my sister and I can make a game of it as we go, like awards for weirdest/oldest/funniest/dumbest/most embarrassing/most appreciated items.

[amnisias.livejournal.com]

Luckily/unfortunately my childhood home is a farmhouse with barns and outbuildings, so storage has never been an issue - and as I get older I really appreciate those mementos of the past that I find when digging for christmas decorations, old books or the second fondue set - those unplanned moments of coming face to face with your past are precious, and once you have kids those momentos take on a whole different dimension - connecting generations past and present. If things have to go, my approach/advise woud be: Don't even look - just bin stuff. Once you know what's there it gets much harder to let go off. Best of luck! Great idea with the camera, though!

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

Luckily/unfortunately

That's the rub, isn't it? My dad's house is certainly big enough to hold all this stuff, although with the addition of E.'s stuff over the past several years it's more cramped - which has lessened the motivation for him to pare it down. The likelihood that they'll be moving into a smaller house when they retire in 5 to 10 years (TMI: my dad is almost old enough to retire but has to put in more time for a liveable pension) helps, though.

I really like how you describe strengthening the connections to your past and your family's past and future. I'm going to keep that in mind as we go. It won't involve things like family china, and we certainly aren't going to get rid of photo albums and all that, but honestly, who knows what *is* back there...

[amnisias.livejournal.com]

I guess family history also comes into play - both my parents escaped from Eastern Germany around the time when the wall went up. They were both children and come with their parents, but could not take much with them. I assume being unrooted and disconnected like that is what's fuelling some of that desire to connect future generations to the past.

[thirdblindmouse.livejournal.com]

I wonder if that's a common cause of it. The same is the case with my aunt and father.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

I would imagine so, wow. And what they took must have had such value to them.

[thirdblindmouse.livejournal.com]

Wow, that sounds like a huge project.

Coincidentally, my father is away in Chicago this week helping my aunt sort out her home. She is what you'd call a not-so-high functioning hoarder, in that most of the rooms of her house are (well, hopefully "were" at this point) impossible to enter. The irony is that she professionally helps people unclutter their homes, so she would be able to give you better advice than I can.

Other than the techniques you've already mentioned (multiple passes, don't think hard about each item on the first pass, just sort them into piles), I recommend not keeping anything for regifting unless you know exactly who you're going to give it to (did I mention my aunt's house? She has a problem with acquiring things as potential gifts), and not keeping anything for yourself unless you can say for certain you will ever look at it/use it again. My only other advice is to work with company, so you can keep each other on task, and make the process as mechanical a set of questions and answers as possible. (Can I use it? Yes. Do I have a space for it? No. Conclusion: Recycle. Next?)

Good luck!

[bironic.livejournal.com]

That is all great advice - thank you. It's excellent that my sister will be home for most of the time I'm there - more often she is out on the road for weeks/months on end - so we can keep each other going and offer perspective, as you say, plus enjoy the memories, plus answer questions right there about stuff that belongs/belonged to both of us instead of having to leave "yes/no?" piles for each other. TBD whether E. proves a useful or just amiable companion as well; I don't know her extremely well, so am not sure of her ability to let things go, although it's pretty clear she's better at it than my dad. :)

The irony is that she professionally helps people unclutter their homes

Ha indeed. Hope your father's trip out there goes all right.

[deelaundry.livejournal.com]

I have a book I can lend you that might be useful; one of her great suggestions is to prepare beforehand by coming up with "treasure guidelines" -- what the categories or themes are of things you will definitely want to keep. Then you can look at the situation positively as finding treasures that are going to enhance your life, rather than "sorting through a bunch of junk." Yes, it's a bit corny, maybe, but it does help to mentally have guidelines beforehand. The book also has practical things like contact info for specific recycling/resale organizations.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Thanks again for the loan. Even on skim there are some tips and insights that look useful.

[kassrachel.livejournal.com]

How do you decide what to let go? How do you navigate other people's delicate emotions? (In February, E. cried and my dad clammed up/stood around staring helplessly.) How do you deal with your own? We have some go-to charities, but are there any in particular in this arena that you love? Is it an adult child's place to recommend or seek counseling for the object-attached parent?

Good questions all. I'll start with the easiest one: yes, I think it's reasonable for you to recommend counseling for the object-attached parent. You can recommend it gently and lovingly, and he may or may not be able to hear the suggestion, but I think it's a good one.

As far as letting go of your own stuff... I know how hard that can be. (Believe me.) It's natural to feel loss when one is letting go of things. Loss of what was; loss of what never was; loss of what you thought might happen but didn't; loss of something you'd forgotten until now, and now you remember it, and now the loss is fresh again. All of that is okay. Have Kleenex on hand; it's okay to cry. Take photos if you need to -- digital photos only take up digital space.

I think in the end you can probably model some good letting-go for your dad. Because there will be things you'll be okay parting with. And you can also model for him what it's like to feel sad about letting something go, and then to still be able to let it go when all's said and done.

(Relatedly, I am generally of the opinion that one can never have too many books, regardless of how little space one has in one's home, but that's because I am a bookworm. *grin* Anyway. There is no shame in keeping too many books, is what I am saying.)

Good luck.

[thirdblindmouse.livejournal.com]

When you've covered every bit of wallspace in your house with floor to ceiling bookcases and still can't walk across the floor, you have too many books.

...Unless you're willing to move to a larger place. *g*

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Thank you for this. I should have known you would have a thorough and compassionate response. <3 Your point about modeling the letting-go is an excellent one, and more kind than pushing him away.

[laurashapiro.livejournal.com]

I have a friend who hoards a bit, and when I helped him clear out his videotapes a lot of years ago, what we did was catalog it all. That way he could look at a list and see what he had, and it was easier to deal with an organized piece of paper than piles of VHS boxes stacked to the ceiling. We got rid of a lot of tapes, and everything that we kept was labeled.

For my own purging, I follow the decimate strategy most often. I am a purger as opposed to a pack-rat, so it's not generally hard for me to give stuff up. But when it is, I keep one representative sample and dump the rest.

Donating can be a good motivator for people who are attached to things. If they know it's going to help someone in need, they feel better about letting go of it themselves.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Ah, I like lists/spreadsheets! Will keep that in mind. Thank you. <3

[ignazwisdom.livejournal.com]

1. Give the Star Trek paperbacks to me (that one's easy)

2. Break the mess down into small, manageable zones/areas of clutter that can be tackled in NO MORE than 2 hours/each

3. Remember to take breaks and congratulate yourself when you've successfully completed sorting of one of those "zones," because lots of small accomplishments add up to BIG accomplishments

4. Let me know when I can buy you and your sis a drink!!

[ignazwisdom.livejournal.com]

Oh, and

5. Resist the urge to just move stuff around without actually making any firm decisions--this is a really easy trap to fall into, and before you know what's happening, you've just spent an hour picking things up and putting them elsewhere and not actually getting rid of a damn thing. I have BEEN THERE, girl.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Ugh, that is going to happen, isn't it? Thank you for tips - all smart.

Emailing you re: #4.

[alpheratz.livejournal.com]

My mother is a very "toss it all" kind of person, and I gradually adopted the same attitude. I digitized old photos and put the originals in a small box instead of keeping them in bulky albums, and gave myself one medium plastic tub to keep sentimental things - stuff from graduations and my childhood, a few old journals, etc. I'm really ruthless about books. Ebooks and libraries exist, and if I find myself really wanting an old book in the future I can afford to repurchase it.

I think your idea of taking photos and writing down the memories is a good one. I think it replaces the need for a physical object quite well.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Thanks! I've been (I'd like to think) good about controlling accumulation since I moved away, which helps me believe I'm not headed for the same situation as my dad, but still. Books are hardest; there's a sense-memory of holding certain ones, of knowing who gave them to me, of remembering who & where I was when I first read them. Hopefully I'll be able to be smart about those, and about whatever else turns up!