Confessions of a Reformed Book Hoarder: A Heal-Along with Jaena

Hello trauma warriors! My name is Jaena and I run this site. I am also a reformed book hoarder. I started my “collection” in 1996 and it swiftly consumed my life. It wouldn’t be until 2019 when I would take control of it, removing forty-six boxes of books from my home and donating them to three separate libraries. I was twenty-two years old when I started my collection hoarding. That’s when I started “recovering” from my depersonalization (Trauma Glossary 2) period and I was trying to rebuild myself from scratch. I was forty-five years old when I refused to be a book hoarder and did something about it. By that time, I had almost a year’s worth of therapy which made me stronger than my attachment disorder.

This is a companion article to our main topic this week: Hoarding as an Attachment Disorder. I like to do these whenever I have my own experiences that can shed further light on a topic. So, seeing as how I spent twenty-three years of my adult life as a book hoarder, it seems only fair that I share this part of my life with you.

First things first. How did I develop such an extreme attachment to objects? Well, to understand that, a little background story is in order.

Before I Became a Book Hoarder…

As I’ve said before several times on my site, I was raised by a mother with borderline personality disorder and my father was the enabler parent (Trauma Glossary 1). My hopes and dreams for the future helped me survive my childhood hell. Just as Ariel’s song from The Little Mermaid “Part of Your World” was her idealistic view of life on land. So was my view of becoming an adult and breaking free from my parents’ control. The outside world was waiting to accept me, I thought. As soon as I broke free of my parents, they would see that I was nothing like my home life and then they would like me. “I just know it!” My “inner landscape” of the outer world was very much this one:

But by 1995, a slew of terrible things shattered my inner landscape. I trusted the wrong people, the manipulators and users. I got financially swindled by my first roommate, my car died, and my credit was shot. Then I got my rejection letter from a major literary agent who told me in plain English that I was a terrible writer with no talent. All these events happened in a matter of months. I was twenty-one years old and I had no inner defenses. It felt like the whole world rejected me in one voice and my inner landscape became this one:

(These images of our inner landscape were explained in last week’s article here.)

Recovery from Soul Death: Let’s Build a Library!

The good news was, I had a friend who let me room with her and the rent was dirt cheap. So, at least I had a roof over my head, just not much else. I had nothing but a mattress, a desk and chair, a dresser, a few clothes…and two books that I had never read. So, I read both books and took several pages of notes on their styles, character development, and turns of phrase. I got it into my head that if I didn’t have any talent as a writer, then I would teach myself how to acquire it. Realizing I needed more than just two books influencing me, I went out and bought five more. Around this time I decided that I could create one thing special for myself. I was going to build the most amazing home library that anyone had ever seen.

So, I discovered a mail-in book club, the kind where you get free books for agreeing to buy at least one book a month. That, of course put me on the mailing list for other book clubs. They gave me the same sales pitch and I immediately joined them too. I had six book clubs sending me books each month, plus my occasional visits to book stores when I had extra money to binge on. Oh, the high the compulsive spender feels when acquiring something new! The problem is, to keep that pain away, one must continue feeding the dragon.

I bought my first bookcase, then another, and another. By age twenty-six, just four years after starting my collection, I had ten bookcases, all packed with books. This includes books I had bought with no intent of reading, I only bought them because they made my library look more “complete.”

Hoarding = Addiction to Acquiring + Unwilling to Let Go

I loved looking at my library and watching it grow. No matter how many books I bought, the idea of parting with even one was unthinkable. I was completely bound to my collection. Each book read represented a past adventure in my mind or a new fact I had learned. Each unread book represented my future. “I might read that one someday.” Most people have picture albums of places they have been to and things they had done. But since my inner landscape had collapsed, my perception of the outer world was too dangerous for that. And so my books were my secure base.

My compulsive spending went into remission at age twenty-six, when I had ten bookcases packed with books. That was when I finally recovered the financial losses my first roommate had left me with. I had a dependable car, my job was more stable, and I finally had my own place. I even cancelled all of my old book clubs. My life was finally gaining stability. Except for I still sensed that mysterious “void” within, that “missing information” from my childhood programming. And until I understood it, my addiction was lying in wait for just the right trigger to wake it with a start.

They say you’re not a book hoarder as long as you have the shelf space…

At age thirty I got married and we bought a house together. One of the first things we did was turn the back room into a library. So, we hired a carpenter to install wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling shelves. Once the job was done and my book collection was neatly installed, I noticed that I had an entire wall of empty shelves. The language I used at the time was telling, knowing what I know now about hoarding. I said, “Oh look, I have all this room to grow.” Each time I walked in my library, the sight of those empty shelves festered inside me. They needed to be filled. I am unsure how long I controlled the urge to act on it, but I do remember the first time we stopped at a bookstore.

I walked out with three bags of books. Like a junkie who got her fix after years of sobriety, I fell off that wagon and I had no plans of getting back on. I filled those shelves until there was no room left. So, I resorted to boxes of books stacked and scattered along the floor. My once beautiful library was transformed into a hoarder’s room. I could no longer deny what I had become. I was a book hoarder.

Hoarding is “I am not enough” projected onto objects

If you’ve read our featured topic before this one, you may have gauged some of my projection language. It all falls under the umbrella of “I am not enough thinking.” The hoarder simply projects it onto objects so that they say “I don’t have enough.” Still, it’s a great mindfulness tool for anyone who suspects they might be developing an unhealthy attachment to objects. The first thing you should do is check your perception when you look at them. Because the Self and our perception of our outer world are reflections of each other. So, before I share with you how I took my control back, allow me the honor of reviewing my projection language and how it was related to my unexamined Self.

• “I decided that I could create one thing special for myself. I was going to build the most amazing home library that anyone had ever seen.” When my inner landscape collapsed, I interpreted it as meaning there was nothing special or amazing about me. So, I threw my energy into creating something that would be amazing to anyone who saw it.
  
  
• “I only bought them because they made my library look more ‘complete.’” I never felt complete until I started the healing work from my childhood trauma. Before then, I’d sense that mysterious “void” within and I had absolutely no idea what to do about it.
  
  
• “Oh look, I have all this room to grow.” Funny how I made my book collection grow while my personal growth remained stunted. And let’s not forget the powerful urge to fill the empty shelves because I felt empty on the inside.

Book Hoarder No More! Taking Control

Like I said in the opening, therapy helped me become stronger than my attachment to objects. In August of 2019, I scheduled a three-week “stay-cation.” I had one goal, and that was to make my library look like a library instead of a hoarder’s room. That required getting rid of half my books. As the countdown to my stay-cation began, I spent each day preparing myself for what I had to do. I visualized which books I would box up first, and that was a tremendous help for me. My first day of stay-cation was the easiest. I boxed up the ones I had bought with no intent of reading. The days after were a little more challenging, but I gave myself a certain amount of boxes I had to fill per day. And I couldn’t have any free time until I met my quota.

So, I began grabbing books and asking myself one question. “Do I really want to read this sometime?” Many times, the answer was no, so they went in boxes. Then, by the middle of week two, things got easier. I could see most of the library’s floor, which I hadn’t seen in years! This signaled my brain that I could do this. My library was going to be beautiful again and it was going to happen before I returned to work. My momentum picked up and I packed forty-six boxes of books and donated them to libraries in my area.

Funny thing about boxing up all those books. Once I reorganized all the books I kept, I realized I had many empty shelves again. Except instead of thinking I had room to grow the collection, I smiled to myself in full knowledge that those shelves will remain empty.

Letting Go Gets Easier

In 2019, I could not imagine letting go of my leatherbound, antique, or special edition books, regardless of my plans on ever reading them. So, I kept them. But, not being a fan of westerns, I have since given my leatherbound Louis L’Amour collection to someone who is a huge fan. I gave away my antique Zane Grey collection (another author of westerns) to a family friend who helped me out in 2020 and mentioned her love of Zane Grey.

I’m in the process now of shipping my full collection of Crimes and Punishment (all 28 volumes) to a true crime buff who’s excited about getting them. Old me would have been outraged and said, “But it’s a complete collection!” (with plenty of stress added to “complete”) but healed me understands that I don’t need objects to complete me. Besides, I leafed through those volumes once and it was entertaining. But it isn’t something I’m interested in looking through again. I’ve learned to form strong bonds and connections with others and my inner landscape has vastly improved. So, if an old collection of mine that’s only gathering dust can bring joy to my friend’s life, then how could I not part with my complete collection?

More Personal Stories Next Week

When I share my personal stories, I like to stick to the theme. This theme concerned hoarding, as it was this week’s main topic. Next week’s topic will cover dissociative activities as an attachment disorder. I have experience with that one too. You see, my book hoarder years were intertwined with workaholism. Together they worked as part of a bigger picture. I was forging a new identity through both what I have (hoarding) and what I do (workaholism). While I can honestly say I am stronger than my attachment to objects, I still struggle with my workaholism.