Drinking Diaries: I am a hoarder.

I am a hoarder. As in, I stash, collect, store, pack-rat and acquire more than I can use at any one time. This is apparently an effort to have “enough” when there isn’t some available. Figures, since I was raised in the Depression. As in, my mom was depressed. She was a sad women, and blamed it on being “without enough money to have all the happiness money can buy,” (she believed it). She made sure we knew there wasn’t enough to go around, we had to ration. Indeed, things were scarce, times were tough, AND “this” NOT ENOUGH was enough for full blown depression from my mother of three that had been promised wealth and success from my father of three that didn’t end up making millions, or even ends meet. So, we had to go without extras, so what? big deal. But what I am talking about is “Without” Parental Joy, contentment, attention, interest, eagerness to get involved, spending time connecting, family pride of any kind……… since we was “po” (even the word can’t afford the last two letters). We were taught to crave what others had and what they  ”got” to do. We were led to desire the lives of the “have’s”, popular,  successful, wealthy, happy, functional, undepressed families we  knew or imagined. It’s a different kind of poor. You may have things  but emptiness is what you notice most.  So, I became a hoarder in an attempt to fill. “If I take more than I need  today, then tomorrow I won’t be without”. Well, this didn’t work out as  you can probably imagine in relation to food, love, attention, sex,  and…..drum roll please……….ALCOHOL.  I worked young (age 15) at a restaurant and I took home food from  the kitchen. Sometimes food we needed at home, but most the time,  just because I could. I loved to take to-go grub from restaurants. Ask  my friends, I still take doggie bags from not just my plate, I ain’t picky,  from anyones plate at the table….! I eat doggie bag food luxuriously,  not because it tastes great, but because it’s bonus. It’s bonus, as in,  extra, food. No ones fridge is safe when I come to visit.   (ask Narayanī M Swenning ). I learned to love leftovers, nothing was   ever wasted when I am around. My friends know to call me over  before they leave for vacation, I will take their fridge rejects. I will feed  the world with it, or me. I am a cheap hoarder. I acquire clothing from  friends hand-me-downs, more than I could ever need. I have many  closets full of designer clothes and shoes, ask my husband, his stuff  is in the garage. The furniture and art I own is either acquired by  giveaways or garage sales or trade. The make up I wear is old, some  from college, I know that’s terrible, oh well. Once, I attended a baby  shower for a friend having a little boy and I asked if, instead of letting  all the blue wrapping paper go into the trash, I could take it home. All  gifts from me for the next two years were wrapped in baby blue  paper, some with little rattles (not like snakes, but those shakers  babies shake) on them. Gifts from me are sometimes something I  used to own(recycled) or something I got on sale maybe years ago. I  hoard baby gifts even when no one is pregnant. I don’t have a house  full of everything but if someone is giving away a bunch of wine  glasses (even though I don’t drink) I will take them, all of them, and  find a home for them. I am kinda a dealer, or agent of things/animals.  I have started accounts at the Consignment store for 10 of my  friends. I will take your dog if you aren’t doing the best job with it, and  find another owner…. watch me. ha ha. I buy things at Estate sales 

that I would never use, but if it’s a good deal, I buy them all, then I figure out who to give it to. This has kept me busy, “feeling” busy and momentarily full. Full of this or that. Abundance is what I am looking for. The endless river of plenty. Where is that? what? you’re fucking with me………no, nah, really? it’s in HERE? (I touch my heart, clouds part, light shines through, the music is like the soundtrack of City of Angels, you cry a little, I offer you a kleenex, we hug). So, here is one realization I have in my sober clarity. When I drank I felt a feeling of relief or let’s just say “happiness”. So, therefore I may concluded that if one drink brought happiness then two drinks would bring “happinerness” and three drinks “happierthanthatness” …. you can see where this is going. But, as with most things, more isn’t the answer. More of this or that isn’t “more better.” So, hoarding alcohol in my skin turns out to be dumb idea. Cuz we all know that more alcohol is more worse… dahhh, but I tested it out many times just to make for damn sure. Why did I think this “happiness” would carry over to tomorrow? This feeling, or relief, would last from this drinking? Testing it out, over and over seeing that more made it worse. So, what is the common theme, what is the pattern?

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