Diary entry from 3/24/09

(this is from when I started a paper journal to document this progress. But I feel more comfortable writing in a blog.)

Yesterday - filled 10 bags. Found spiders (including brown recluse) and one big dead cockroach. Found Grandma's recipes stuffed in a corner underneath used bandaids and work papers. Three hours work.

Today - filled 9 bags, found 3 types of maggots. 1 1/2 bottles of Drano later and the kitchen sink is still clogged. Found note husband wrote to mom the night before our wedding, saying we would ALWAYS be there for her. 5 hours work.

Deep down, I know that this will do nothing. She will get it cluttered and dirty again. She is not just a compulsive hoarder, but also lazy, self-centered and oblivious to those around her - both their physical presence and their social and emotional needs. I often marvel that she isn't dead yet.

She wants to be better but she doesn't want to do the work associated with it. Husband and I are again left with the burden.

While she stays with us, she has a daily chore list. It is pathetically light. "Sweep kitchen floor. "Wipe down kitchen counters. Take a walk." In all, the tasks should take less than an hour, combined. But she stretches it out to all day long. Half of me is sympathetic to her fatigue, arthritis, age (61), her weight which makes things hard. The other half of me is angry and resentful and very, very hurt. Sometimes, that half takes over.

No matter what I tell her, it does not sink in. She hears me but does not listen. My worst nightmare is that I will turn in to her.