Confessions of a secret (and organised) hoarder.

By Jessica Haynes.

The word hoarder is pretty loaded. We’ve all seen the shows, with people in homes stacked high with newspapers, kitchen sinks brimming with unwashed dishes and so much clutter it’s actually a fire hazard.

That’s not exactly me.

If you walk into my house you won’t see anything that would cause too much concern — maybe a bit of paperwork on the kitchen bench and the odd used mug on the coffee table.

But if you asked to take a look in my cupboards I can’t describe the dread I would feel.

And no, that’s not because there’s anything worrisome to conceal. Just stuff. And lots of it. And I think I have a bit of a problem. What stuff? I can’t even begin to say.

It could be a piece of paper from a doctor’s appointment in 2006, or an old notebook from high school. It could be my Year Seven jumper, or a hat colleagues signed for me when I went on my first overseas adventure almost a decade ago. It might be a book I’ve been meaning to read, or a jacket I’ll never wear again or a top I just need to sew the button back on.

But it’s there. All of it. Boxes and boxes of it.

So what actually is the definition of hoarding?

University of New South Wales associate professor in psychology Jessica Grisham said about two to five per cent of the population are believed to live with hoarding disorder.

“One of the prominent clinical features is extreme difficulty throwing things away. And in order for it to be a disorder, the amount of clutter is so extreme that … it interferes with [the person’s] functions in day-to-day life and relationships … and health,” Professor Grisham said.

“And when it gets to that level we consider it to be a clinical disorder.”

Not a case of extreme hoarding

You see, I’ve watched those shows — The Hoarder Next Door, which ran on ABC TV not that long ago, is one that springs to mind — and I always end up saying to myself, ‘I’m nowhere near that bad, surely’. But then I think about not once but twice making secret car journeys to new homes without my husband, so I could sneak dozens of boxes into cupboards and nooks before he’s had a chance to ask what’s inside.

Or that time I had the task of clearing out just one container of my things from the garage, and I started to feel dizzy and overwhelmed. And how at least once I week I’ve felt a pang of guilt trying to throw away something I know I’ll never use, but with that lingering thought in the back of my head: “What if this will come in handy one day?”

That day never comes, and so I place the item back in my cupboard, or in my drawers or in yet another cheap plastic container to think about another day. So maybe I really am just as affected by hoarding as the people on those television shows, I’m just better at hiding it in boxes under the guise of “organisation”.

Does family history have anything to do with it?

Professor Grisham said in some cases people might have a genetic predisposition.

“There’s evidence that there may be some genetic contributing factor for people who have family members who have hoarding problems. [They] are predisposed to having hoarding disorder themselves … If you grow up in home [with hoarding] … that can lead to you to develop that problem later in life,” she said.

“There’s also some limited evidence for some people who have loss in their life … sometimes that seems to proceed hoarding difficulties, but we need more research to confirm that.”

I think I come from a long line of hoarders. Like many people my age, my grandparents grew up during WWII, a time when holding onto each item wasn’t just encouraged, it was necessary.

My late Nanna had a penchant for collecting newspaper articles, something I would later inherit with magazines and recipes. My parents, both from large, working class families, also had to learn the art of holding on. And during my childhood when times were tough and money was tight, you had the make the most of everything you owned.

So now, even though I’m lucky enough to be able to buy things whenever they need replacing, I just can’t seem to part with anything that even holds a one per cent chance of being reused.

So, why the change?

At the start of the year I watched a documentary on Netflix called Minimalism, one countless people will have seen about two men — Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus, also known as “The Minimalists” — who got rid of most of their belongings and are on the road spreading their message.

Now, it’s a movement. I can’t say watching the documentary was life-changing for me in that exact moment, but it did make me start to question the relationship I have formed with the things I own. And why I hesitate each time I have to make a decision about getting rid of just about anything.

But back to my clutter…

The Minimalists issued a challenge at the start of this month. It’s not new, and had been done by others, including UK journalist Victoria Lambert with the Get Chucked Challenge. The idea is you throw away one item to the value of the calendar day. One thing on April 1, two things on April 2 and so on until the end of the month.

My spare room does look like a bomb has hit it, but it’s lovely to finally have the cupboard doors open. And yes, my other half has finally realised just how much junk I’ve been hiding from him, and he’s thrilled I’m on the path to getting rid of it.

In total you get rid of 465 things, which is a big thing for me to contemplate, but in small doses I’m really enjoying giving away things to charity that I actually like, and being able to throw away or recycle things that are beyond repair.

I’m only half way through, but so far I’ve donated six pairs of shoes, more than 50 magazines (yes, 50) and clothes, jewellery and other items I’ve had stashed away that were in good condition. All up I’ve got rid of 205 things. Just 260 to go before the end of the month.

If you want to get some help with hoarding you can visit www.hsru.com.au for information and support.

This post originally appeared on ABC News.