In the beginning

When we had our second son at six months, we discovered he had something called special needs.

Though it took us a long time to understand that term.

We learned overtime that there were various professionals who could help, but some of them could be awkward, resistant, draining.

There were things out there but they were difficult to get.

It was the law of the jungle we had reviews, information was classified or confidential.

We had competition with other parents and professionals.

We were tested for conditions, and we felt tested for failing to achieve the unknown.

However, overtime we learned to think, to persuade.

We had to learn jargon, and heard things on the grapevine from other careers.

Eventually, we found solutions to help improve our life and make us happier.

What am I doing? as a family we made our way around daily life and all Its ups and downs.

I went to meetings school reviews, development center – all to do with our son with special needs.

Then I went to more meetings, health, social care, social services, consultation groups, carer support group meetings, and I had more paper from these to file in folders.

I never really noticed the things building up around us.

I wanted so I bought and I wanted so I saved.

All these things make me happy. I also collected other papers.

I filed them all but… All this took up space. I was a hoarder.

What the F is going on?

I started to become anxious, kept trying to make improvements. Until one day at work I was asked to file a folder.

I think it was something beginning with F – my brain said what the F is that?

In my head the letter F no longer existed in fact the alphabet no longer existed.

Only I existed and this person in front of me. I handed in my notice.

Other things started to happen.

My hearing went.

My memory went when I tried reading papers for meetings.

Even my taste buds and sense of smell were odd.

My food tasted metallic and the antibacterial scented hand wash smelled awful.

My body and mine went into auto shut down like a computer, whose memories is overloaded and refuses to work anymore, it was stress.

My body was protecting me before exploded or imploded.

Time to act. I filled in a form about hoarding me.

I took it to the surgery for the doctor to see.

They thought for a while then they phoned back the questions they asked, and took me back. Did you want HRT? Is that best for me? But did you want HRT? But is that best for me?

I’m sure that my form gave them all the descriptions to enable the doctors to write out a prescription, but I still had to explain my hoarding to them.

I was passed onto others each time hope increased that they’re training in hoarding was lacking the least.

But the talk around hoarding immediately decreased as mental health service could talk on it least.

They asked are you anxious or are you depressed? Well yes all this stuff gets my head in a mess just what are the reasons that I can’t let go?

You need to discover and I need to know.

So should I purchase more books to find out why I hoard?

Ps. we need more professionals have more training