Hoarders: Lazy or really ill?

The time has come to talk about hoarders; believe it or not, there is a DOG under all that feces! What kind of person thinks they are giving this animal a loving home? I watch the show because these people fascinate/horrify me, and I'm really torn as to the validity of this condition. Some episodes, like the poor man who let those rats take over his entire house, show a person clearly in need of help. The man's much-loved wife died of a heart attack, and he got 3 pet rats to keep him company; one of the rats escaped the cage, and THIS was the result:

 I raise rats myself in order to feed our snakes and my tarantula, and I've had them escape on several different occasions (I learned my lesson well though--and now I keep all my rats in 20-gallon aquariums with metal mesh lids; no rat can chew through glass!!), but I always caught/killed them within a few days because I know full well the horrendous damage they can cause. This man, who has all my sympathy, lost his whole house and everything in it; these rats simply destroyed it. As I was watching this episode, something kept nagging me in the back of my mind; something was missing/wrong about those rats and I couldn't put my finger on it until the show was over--and then I realized. There were NO baby or juvenile rats anywhere in that house. Why? Because the adults ATE them; both for food, and as a means to control their own population. They do this whether in the wild or in captivity.

Anyway, the man in this story clearly had issues which needed addressing, so I believe that the hoarding diagnosis fit him. The problem I have with the diagnosis of hoarding today is very like that of all those children being diagnosed with ADD or ADHD years ago; it became a self-propagating epidemic, and the drug Ritalin became the Holy Grail for many parents with kids who were just energetic (I personally knew quite a few parents who took their kids to the pediatrician and insisted they be placed on the drug, merely for behavioral control; I thought those parents were & are despicable). I think that there are many many people today who are misdiagnosed as being a hoarder when they're in fact lazy slobs. Take this photo for example, of a hoarder's house:

The hoarders who live in this house are book collectors; they didn't really think they had a problem until the husband developed a serious heart condition and the couple realized that, should he have a heart attack or needed medical attention, the EMS team had no hope of entering the home and saving his life. People with undiagnosed mental illness frequently do not understand that there is a problem; which is a very big clue in the diagnosis! Now, take a look at this:

This house is a whole other kettle of fish. There is no collecting going on here, unless you count garbage as a collection! I believe this is not hoarding--the person who let this happen is disgusting and lazy. There is no excuse for this. It's not a mental illness if you're too  lazy to take your garbage out to the curb & wash your dishes! But yeah, there IS something terribly wrong with a person who lives like this--it's just not called hoarding. 

The show irritates me as well, when you see family members who are obviously digging all the drama and egging things on; I saw an episode last night that just really pissed me off--thus, this post. She was the daughter of the "hoarder" and in her mind, her job was apparently to fake-cry her way through the whole show. It was so obviously contrived I wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled. She loved the attention, and I was angry because she was taking the focus away from her mother, the actual reason for the show. And then there is the hoarder who gets off on the power they hold over the counselors and cleaning crew--making them jump through hoops and ordering them around; one lady kept them all standing around for a whole DAY, refusing to let them into the home after she agreed they could come, and what did the counselors do? Oh, they sweet-talked the lady and wasted time and if it had been ME, I'd have said, Look here; we came to help you clean up this shit before you lose your house and go to jail--you don't want us in there? FINE. Have a nice life as a homeless con then. Buh-BYE. That doesn't quite fill up an hour show, though does it? So they sweet-talk her and beg her. To hell with that!

My Gorgeous Brazilian Salmon Pink Birdeater

Say hello to my little friend Carmella, aka Miss Pissy. She is my latest tarantula, and I got her from Kenthebugguy.com. If you're ever in the market for a spider, scorpion, hissing roach, etc. check him out--his prices are fair and he treats you really well. So, Carmella will be 2 years old this Halloween; the top picture is from one year ago, the middle one is from January, and the last one is from a couple of days ago. BIG change, right? Yeah--she has eaten 5 pinkie rats in a week; now she's getting ready to molt. Believe it or not, she will be even bigger after she molts! And here's a cool fact, they even lose their fangs in the molting process, growing new larger ones to go along with their new larger bodies. After this next molt, I'll post a picture of her along with her set of fangs; we keep snakes also--I'm planning a post all about them later--and her fangs are larger than the ball python's. Wild!

     Probably you're thinking to yourself--OMG I HATE spiders--how can she touch those things?! Well, once upon a time I was the world's biggest arachnophobe. Yes, REALLY. My son Aaron and I were living in Biloxi, not long before Katrina, and he asked me (very slyly which should have pinged my Mom-radar) to run him up to the local pet store. We would go there all the time because the owner would let us hold the snakes, etc. So we go, and I had gotten some work done at the dentist that morning requiring groovy prescription painkillers and I was cruising. We get there, and there was a new shipment of tarantulas, which my son asked if he could hold one of the little Rosehairs. When he got it, he put it in MY hands and I wasn't afraid (cuz I was cruising!). Turns out that he had bought that thing behind my back for my birthday and because he had decided I had to "face my fears". Fuck. I KNEW that would somehow come back and bite me in the ass! How many times have I used that exact phrase on Aaron? We get the spider home, he sets it up and says "There. It's ALL yours, I ain't touching it". And he didn't. It took about 6 months before I could walk by that tank without doing the allover body shudder thing. I couldn't let it die! So, long story short--I love spiders now and HE hates them! LOL As I was having the latest photo of her taken, Aaron tells me in NO uncertain terms that he will not be touching her ever again, because she is officially too big and creepy. HA. Face your fears, my butt.

Happy Birthday, Paw-Paw

     Today is my grandfather's birthday; he would have been 101. Though it's been 23 years since he died, I have missed him every single day. I remember his laugh, the frustrating way he would never take a serious picture---his thing was hats. Every time we tried to take a picture of him he would grab a silly hat and put it on. I had a graduation photo of me, him and my grandmother standing outside by a tree in my gown--Paw-Paw was wearing my cap.  How I loved him. He was the father I never had. He died right before I found out I was pregnant with my son; I wish the two of them had known each other, they are SO alike! Here's to you, Deward Lee Brown--wherever you are, I love you and miss you, and I will see you again.

RIP Amy Winehouse

   

     The music world lost a legend when Amy Winehouse was found dead in her home Saturday. I am so sad, and shocked because it seemed as though she was getting better. Russell Brand wrote a wonderful piece about her here on his blog, and Adele also had some kind words about Amy on her blog here.There are those who will say that she deserved to die a lonely addict because she had so many chances to get better; many who will say she joined the 27 Club but most of us will mourn the loss of a person who had a great talent and who should, by all rights, have been able to produce music for many years to come. There are some horrible photos of her (too many to count) looking strung-out and high, but I choose to remember her the way she was at her best. I only hope that, wherever she is, she is at peace.

RIP Amy...