I’m a Hoarder

Of all the options available on Netflix, late one night during the weekend, I chose Hoarders.

A part of me thinks the extreme disarray of others makes me feel like I’ve got my shit together.

Narrator: He doesn’t.

In my home, you won’t find things piled to the ceiling. You can walk in and out of my bathroom with ease.

But as others collect “things,” I collect thoughts.

I am a hoarder.

The more I watched, the more I felt an odd connection to the subjects of scrutiny.

Consuming and collecting was easy for them, so they just kept doing it.

Throwing stuff away? Damn – that’s really hard.

The old jukebox? Might flip it.

An expired can of dog food? Might use it.

There’s a slimy (no pun intended) defense for holding on to everything.

I’ve got the same problem.

A consumption problem.

New newsletter? I’ll read it.

Book recommendation? I’ll buy it.

Podcast? I’ll listen to it.

A peak inside my head would look a lot like a home inHoarders, cluttered by outstanding ideas and thoughts.

I live by the same defenses.

I might need this some day. I don’t want to be criticized for putting pen to paper on this idea. “I’m not an expert.”

I need to declutter my mind.