Prelude

Welcome to Dirty Dancing. This blog has nothing to do with the film, so apologies if you came here for that. I once said I wouldn't do a blog that was a journal, yet here it is. I don't know why yet, except maybe I need to share.

Today I was told to tidy up my office space. You might not understand why that commentary prompted this blog, because you may not know that I get Bullied At Work. You won't yet know either that "I live in squalor." *Stands up as if in an AA meeting*

Go here: Squalor Survivors if you feel you need to address this issue too.


I have been living in squalor for a good many years now. I suppose it started when I lost my place at University. I came home with my crates, and they kind of never got unpacked or sorted out or thrown away. I couldn't deal with the change in my life from hopeful student to hopeless failure. Throwing away my University stuff would have been significant in acknowledging that situation.

For a long time my squalor was limited to my bedroom, the one room in the house I could call my own, since I was living with my parents.

In due course, though, my parents both died. My siblings came over and threw away pretty much everything my parents had owned apart from the furniture. I think that may have helped make my hoarding worse, though I realise now that I was already having problems.

I inherited my parents space. It stayed their space for a while, so it was safe from squalorisation. Eventually, though, I began the process of claiming the space. At first this happened in a healthy way. I got some parts of the house re-decorated, (though I realise now that was done on the back of squalor, because insurance paid for it when the physical deterioration of the house caused some damage to the structure).

I began gradually to claim the living space, by moving out the small remnants from my parents occupation and bringing into view more and more of my things. Now, approximately ten years later, I am living in second degree squalor, bordering on third degree.

Today I found Squalor Survivors. Today I learnt more about my squalor and the reasons behind it. It wasn't totally new. I already explored the topic with my counsellor recently. I knew there were emotional and mental health elements to why I live in squalor, but I didn't realise there might be physical health reasons for it too. I certainly didn't know there were related medical conditions. Having a 'condition' suggests it might be treatable. Or am I just clutching for straws ? Anyway, I've applied to join the list and stuff and I am reading up on things. Step One accomplished.