Diary of a Hoarder’s Kid | Teen Ink

Diary of a Hoarder’s Kid MAG

March 3, 2012
By Anonymous

I am a hoarder's kid.
The roaches and mice were childhood companions, and filth wore the pants in the family. Growing up, I always wondered why no one came to save my brothers and me. Were we not worth rescuing, or did no one know? How could they not know? There were more than enough clues – like the flea bites on my arms and the dirt in my hair – but no one ever asked me if I was all right. No one ever asked me.

If they had asked, I would have lied. While other parents were teaching their children the Ten Commandments, mine were teaching me loyalty. “We are family, and families keep each other's secrets,” my father would say. The problem with that: the secret was overpowering my life. I was not like the other kids.

I never had sleepovers, birthday parties, or play dates. Since I was the only girl in the family, my room was built inside my brothers'. My space could barely fit a twin bed, a dresser, and a hutch. I was a writer even then, and what little room I had was overflowing with crumpled papers filled with depressed words.

Outside my room was the mountain range of clothes, trash, and Power Rangers otherwise known as my brothers' room. I took the same path every day – I eased my body around the bookshelf, dodging the football toy bin, and hopped on my brothers' bunk bed ladder to reach the door. On the other side of that door lay the horror of the living room.

The floor was buried under mounds of Coke cans and fast-food wrappers, and the front door was never locked – never even fully shut. If you took a left turn you'd find the dining room, which I don't ever recall actually eating in. Instead it contained a big freezer that once held food, long ago eaten, with dishes on top piled as high as the clothes on the floor. Straight ahead was the kitchen, with a buffet of moldy dishes for feasting roaches, and a fermenting fridge. This was also the place that held our washing machine and dryer, so naturally, the carpet was made of our clothes.

Taking another left you'd arrive at the only bathroom, where the toilet was never flushed and used toilet paper was rarely thrown out. Our shower worked if my parents remembered to pay the water bill and the pipes weren't frozen, but during the winter it was a good day if I was able to take a shower.

The last room of the personal hell I called “home” was my parents'. It had an orange shag carpet that was outdated in the ྂs. It also contained a heater and an air conditioner – the only ones in the house – and a TV that my parents paid more attention to than their children.

I am a hoarder's kid.

But I am more than that. I am a girl who chose to rise above her past and fight for the future of others. I am a ­survivor. I am someone who is not defined by decisions that were not her own. I am a person who chose to denounce the influences of her childhood.

I am going to college this fall to become a social worker. My plan is to help neglected children. My hope is to make the invisible visible. I am a hoarder's kid, but I am so much more.

Similar Articles


This article has 7 comments.

Dishir said...
on Jun. 15 2013 at 1:52 am
I'm a hoarders daughter.  I really already knew your story from the first line.  You write beautifully.  Your entire life ahead of you will only get better and better.  You will get to a point at which you can look back and see how strong the mess made you.  I am sorry you had no one ask why things were the way they were, no adults to help.  I don't know how ofter that happens with a hoard.  But I do know you are on the other side, and I do know that you are becoming stronger, and you will be happy.  Blessings.  Keep writing.

on Oct. 9 2012 at 6:45 pm
hillary_ SILVER, Bolivar, Missouri
6 articles 0 photos 9 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter dont' mind."-Dr. Seuss

Thank you, MissPam. I appreciate your encouragement.

on Oct. 9 2012 at 6:41 pm
hillary_ SILVER, Bolivar, Missouri
6 articles 0 photos 9 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter dont' mind."-Dr. Seuss

Thank you for your encouraging words. I hope to one day fight for hoarders' kids, those who do not get a voice in their own life. Your words give me hope for a better future.

BethY said...
on Sep. 13 2012 at 9:13 am
Thank you for sharing your story.  This is a beautfully written and touching piece.   I'm sorry for what you went through, but I love the way that you are focused on turning those experiences into positives by helping others.  Stay strong!

beanie said...
on Sep. 6 2012 at 3:45 pm
I was a hoarders kid too!  I too have overcome it.  It took a very long lonely time to own that it was their life, not mine.  I didn't choose it and it wasn't mine.  I am 38 yrs old now, with a 14yr old boy.  He has never been embarrassed of his home. His home is always clean, he always has food, and he always has friends over.  That makes me the best mom I can be physically.  Emotionally I am too : )  I wish you the best.   Good luck and God bless!  You will be phenomenal.. you're essay was.

MissPam said...
on Sep. 6 2012 at 2:36 pm
Bless you sweet heart.  I am certain God has a special plan for your life.  I wish you the very, very best!

mamac said...
on Sep. 5 2012 at 12:21 pm
You are awesome! Reading your words I felt like I was actually walking through your house. You also made me cry, because I'm a hoarder's kid, too. Good luck to you in college & in the future!