Psychologist Randy Frost assumed that hoarding was a deeply anti-social disorder. Then he got to know Irene.
POSTED ON MAY 7, 2010, AT 2:18 PM
ABOUT 15 YEARS ago, I received a desperate phone call from a woman named Irene. She had found me by contacting the Obsessive Compulsive Foundation and asking for someone who might help her with her hoarding problem. Irene was 53 and had just separated from her husband. She had two children—a 13-year-old daughter, Julia, who was away at boarding school, and a 9-year-old son, Eric, who lived at home. Her husband, an engineer, had been after her for years to get rid of her clutter, which waxed and waned but never went away. Finally, he told her to clean it up or he would leave. She couldn’t, so he did. Now she was worried that she would lose her children, in the upcoming divorce, because of the conditions she lived in.
I spotted Irene’s home immediately after my 90-minute drive from Northampton, Mass. Despite its commanding view from atop a hill, the house was dark and gloomy. Overgrown trees and bushes hid much of it from the street. Its paint was peeling, and its fence needed mending. A car parked in the driveway was packed with papers and clothes. I had brought along a student assistant, Tamara, and as we walked toward the house, we could see boxes, newspapers, clothes, and an assortment of unidentifiable objects pressed against the windows.
We knocked on the front door but got no answer. We found a side door and knocked. Something stirred inside the house. Behind us, a door to the garage opened, and out stepped Irene, slightly overweight and rumpled, with straight brown hair and a friendly smile. She introduced herself with a nervous laugh and invited us in: “You can’t get in that way. You’ll have to come through the garage.”
Inside the garage we found a narrow path—through a chest-high jumble of boxes, tools, and bags—to the only door in her house not blocked by debris.
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http://theweek.com/article/index/202751/the-last-word-the-hidden-beauty-of-hoarding