Tired of Filth

I cleaned a hoarder's house once. It was years ago, when I was first married, and the situation had been minimized to such a degree {"He's old-- he just needs help making room in the spare bedroom for his son."} that when I walked in, I was shocked, horrified and instantly overwhelmed. We had 8 people and it took us 18 hours to even make a dent.

It wasn't until a decade later that I even knew what a hoarder was and could put a name to the sickness that I'd seen.

I find myself thinking about that event quite a lot lately. I've watched hours of reality shows that follow hoarders, identifying {to a frightening degree} with the spouses and children of the sick person. I watch them cry, asking the hoarder to love them enough to let go of the filth. Often, the hoarder agrees. They get a big crew to come clean up, and then, of course, the hoarder freaks out and tries to hang on to every expired can of food and dirty band-aid.

Sometimes, the spouse or children aren't willing to engage anymore. The hoarder says he wants help in overcoming his collapsing mountain of junk, and they just say, "I don't believe you. You've said that for years."

That's how I feel about my husband's lust addiction. The filth of it turns my stomach. I beg him to stop, to think of me and the children enough to see that what he's pursuing is worthless. I've helped him clean out the metaphorical trash over and over again, only to see him resist, cling, and eventually turn back to holding his box of band-aids close to his heart. The roller coaster of his addiction has dominated half of my life, and now I just feel so, so tired.

I don't have the energy to clear out the filth anymore. I can't live in it either, no matter how much he proclaims that it's "not that bad" or "not about you" or "not what I want; I just need you to {fill in the blank} so I can let it go."

I don't believe him.

He's an addict, and the only thing I can know for certain is that he is weak and he is a liar. That doesn't make him a bad person, just a damaged, self-delusional, miserable person who hurts me and can't be trusted.

I watch the spouses on Hoarders and can see how sad, angry, and conflicted they are. I can't fault them when they leave-- they can't MAKE their sick spouse want to get well, and they have to think about their own health and sanity. Likewise, when the spouse stays, I can't fault them either, though i feel their pain. It's a horrible way to live, and the progress is agonizingly slow even when the addict/hoarder is actually putting forth a lot of effort to recover.

*******

My husband and I are separated. Again.

I don't know how or if we'll ever get back together. Right now, he's in that phase of frantic effort and negotiation. I visualize a hoarder shuffling junk from the stairs to the dining table and saying, "How can you give up? Can't you see I'm trying? Why won't you help me?" I look at him and know that I have seen all of this before. I've seen him "try." I've seen him blame me for not "doing my part." I've seen him white-knuckle sobriety for up to a year, and I've seen him go right back to square one in a heartbeat.

I look at him and feel not a single stirring inside. I only feel utter and complete exhaustion. He thinks I'm giving up, but this is simply as much as I have left to give.

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