34 ms·

The author admits to feeling shame for his father as a child and pride as an adult. The only true difference is that he no longer lives with his father.

• sshine 4y ago
  Yes, I’ve undergone the same shift, and I cherish my mom’s hoarding. I even named my holding company “<X> Hoarding” (since another family member has “<X> Holding”). This is with a degree of irony, but also an acknowledgement that desiring to gather things is a slippery slope when you don’t require things to be used with any real probability. I mostly hoard small, rare objects of similar kind to manage, but I’m afraid the definition of rarity is both subjective and sliding. For example, I found a piece of scratched up ornamental wood broken off a piece of furniture that looks like a snail while I was having a conversation with a friend, and when I see that piece of wood, it takes me back to walking on that street: the trees in the picture get greener and the red hair of my friend gets redder every time I think back. I don’t care if I don’t see the piece for years. It is very frustrating to share the space with a collector when you don’t share the dopamine rewards of acquiring the things, since the constant upkeep detracts every day.