5-minute read time.
I have always considered myself an observer. I notice the people around me, their mannerisms and behaviors, how they dress, talk, and chew. Sometimes, I wonder if they notice me looking at them. I wonder if they think I am staring at them, judging from afar.
As I sit in this Panera Bread, clacking away on my laptop with my freshly painted red nails while waiting for my food to be prepared, sipping lightly on the scalding hot coffee I retrieved from the coffee and tea table, I look around. Looking around at the people surrounding me, I can almost diagnose the secret hoarders. It’s time to use my secret superpower.
Let’s see. Directly across from me, at my one o’clock, sits a middle-aged woman with tan, straight hair. She types on her computer, entering digits into a spreadsheet of green and white columns. Her hands move from the keyboard to her mouth, clenching together in front of her lips as she contemplates what to add next. She is obviously comfortable in life, financially, that is. Her computer and computer bag look as if they are company-issued, indicating that she might have a well-paying profession. A red Hydroflask sits on her table next to her items, an expensive choice of beverage container. An Apple Watch adorns her small wrist. Her nails are neat and trimmed but not polished. Like me, she wears headphones to drown out the noise of the busy restaurant. Her top and shoes are pristine white, and her jeans look freshly washed. My diagnosis? Not a hoarder.
An older man sits at a table next to the Hydroflask woman. His hair is trimmed and styled, probably with gel or balm. The table is almost empty, containing only a Macbook and a cup of tea or coffee. His clothes are plain but clean, dark, and professional. The only glimpse of brightness on this man is his perfectly white socks. He sits with one leg crossed over the other, the raised foot sticking out into the walkway, which is the reason why I noticed his socks. He might be a bit of an ass who is not aware of how he is blocking the path, but he is not a hoarder.
A few tables down is another man typing away on a Macbook. Clearly, I choose the part of the restaurant where the workaholics reside. He, too, sips a hot drink while working. He is dressed nicely, with dark pants, a tan sweater, and dark frames that line his long face. His short hair sticks up, but not in a way that indicates he doesn’t take care of it. Maybe he didn’t feel like styling it today. I chuckled to myself as my eyes fell upon his feet, which were resting on the unused chair on the other side of his table. The only unusual part of his demeanor is his feet, embellished with a pair of Crocs. Juxtaposed with such a classy work outfit, the Crocs stick out like a sore thumb. Eccentric choice of shoes, sure, but hoarder, not.
Most people tend to overlook these distinct features of their environment. Adult children of hoarders naturally scope out the one thing that we grew up with. We instinctually look for our parents in the people around us, our senses drawn to familiarity. Noticing a hoarder in public comes freely and easily to me.
Sometimes, hoarders will have a distinct smell, especially if they live in their hoarded space. If you grew up with the scent of mold, must, trash, and rot constantly around you and in the place you call home, you notice it instantly. Their clothes might be disheveled. Or they are torn. Dirty, even. Maybe their clothes don’t fit them right. Often, hoarders refuse to get rid of clothes that are damaged or don’t fit because of their attachment and compulsion to keep things. They might be lacking in the personal hygiene department – untamed hair, yellow teeth covered with plaque, dirty fingernails, bad breath. Hoarders tend to get so entranced, so stuck in the mess that it takes them over, it steals their identity.
Of course, this criteria is not spotless and certainly not accurate for everyone, and it doesn’t necessarily mean the person is a hoarder. I am wearing an oversized sweatshirt with fabric pills and cat hair on it. I wear old, faded sneakers that I find comfortable for everyday use. Not everyone has to look their best every day. But there’s a slight, discernable difference when it comes to hoarders. Chances are you have encountered someone like this in public and wondered what their house must look like.
But sometimes, hoarders are impossible to spot. And frankly, glancing around this restaurant, I can’t pinpoint anyone who might be a potential hoarder. Some hoarders are secretive, too ashamed of their lifestyle to let it get the best of their appearance. The person sitting next to you right now, unless you’re in a familiar place, might be a hoarder, and you would never know it. I think the secrecy of it all speaks volumes about how we approach hoarding socially. Besides the latest TLC or Netflix special that paints an inaccurate picture of hoarding (I’ll get more into that in another post), discussions about hoarding remain either absent or behind closed doors. My goal with this blog is to change this. Let’s change it together.
We should all remember that, although the person next to you might not smell the best or be adequately dressed for the public, it’s important not to judge or think poorly of them. Hoarders struggle with a mental health disorder, but they’re still people.
