Poetry
The Person Behind the Clutter
what is it that you see?
Far too much clutter?
– But please don’t make fun of me.
I know that you don’t live this way,
But I have my reasons why…
I know it’s hard to understand,
but I’d be so grateful, if you’d try.
far more than I can say…
than mere words can convey.
I know that you, and other people,
struggle to understand –
The stuff you see is a reflection
of my emotional need –
The things that I have been through
– things hidden and unseen.
This isn’t a lifestyle choice,
that I’ve chosen to live this way –
It’s more an image of the hidden pain
that I fight every day.
And this mess that’s caused by
pain,
Then brings me shame, and embarrassment…
Which causes yet more loneliness,
…certain TV shows
are broadcast to the nation…
… that pretend that clearing a life
of hoarding is easy –
That a cleaner will help you,
and that’s all that is needed –
To decide your needs for you,
give a push, a firm hand…
– And then we wonder why
people don’t understand…
I don’t want to jump
each time the doorbell rings,
And live with the shame
that this hoarding brings.
I don’t want to live in fear
of people like you,
who think that clearing this place
is the best thing to do.
You say you want to help,
because you care about me –
So please.. show me respect
and please listen to me.
Please don’t go at your pace,
and expect me to keep up,
Cos I’m fighting an inner battle
of what I can give up.
And when you say you’re laughing
because otherwise you’d cry,
Imagine how I feel
when I know this mess is mine.
Imagine the embarrassment,
… the fear of loss,
… the guilt,
… the shame
– And then hearing joking comments
on top of all my pain.
And then you sigh,
You think I don’t feel
the same inside?
But these aren’t just things
that you just look at and see,
These things feel like
they’re a part of me
I know I need to decide –
But these aren’t just things,
they’re the way I’ve survived.
So what would be
so easy for you,
is so hard, ‘cos these things –
they’re what’s helped me through
And what happens to me
if they’re taken away,
Will it keep me safer, like you say?
Or will losing the very things
that have given me meaning,
be too much for me,
so that inside I’m left screaming.
to have meaning to me –
Like home,
If you take them away,
then who will I BE?
.. Lost?
A mere shell of me?
that make life seem real,
when people and life,
have given me a rough deal
I can look at these things,
see and feel how they’re shaped –
or even smile at the packaging
with a significant date.
They give my life some meaning,
where many people have failed
– They give me a reason to smile again,
after people have made me cry and wail.
they don’t talk back,
They don’t make me feel small –
They’re my friends,
and they bring me comfort
And they help me feel secure
To you, they all seem like
rubbish, I know,
but to me they are comfort –
like they’re friends who I know.
I’d miss them so much
When I’ve already lost
– to me, these things belong.
I’m not making up excuses,
Just trying to explain
Why I find it so very difficult
to throw these things away.
We all have weaknesses –
You must have yours.
It’s just mine are obvious
when you open my front door.
Perhaps yours are more hidden –
so that people can’t see
your most embarrassing weaknesses,
your most personal needs.
And you know that your weaknesses
don’t just go away,
Because of what others
may do or may say.
So remember, I’m me
– a real person – like you –
It’s just that I’ve needed
these things to get through.
So.please be gentle with me,
and patient, when I ask you to,
Because it’s not just you who is frustrated –
And, honestly, it hurts me
as much – if not more – than you.
So please, will you bear with me,
and let me work things through…?