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Long vent. I have PTSD and it makes cleaning insanely difficult. I grew up in very bad poverty and there were bugs and other creatures everywhere, under everything, and crawling on me, every single day for about 7 years (the rest of my childhood and majority of my adolescence, and I spent it all on edge 24/7). I've been in a better home for 3 years now, and never learned how to properly clean and maintain a household as I literally lived in a large shed. There wasn't a kitchen or dining room or family room or even bathroom at first. I didn't have a room. My only belongings were some hand me downs and a few trinkets in a box when I left the place. And now I do have some furniture and I do have material possessions and it's still weird, my mind always has me believing it's temporary and a storm or car will come crashing in and destroy everything, and I am having to learn what everyone else around me has already known their whole lives (cleaning, having a room, having things) at 20 and I feel so behind. Every time I clean I cry and panic. In my now PESTLESS AND VERY SAFE house I fear a rat or bug or snake or whatever is going to jump on me and crawl on me and I'll be sent all the way back to childhood. I've previously had intense flashbacks and depressive episodes followed by weeklong hallucinations upon actually seeing a roach and a lizard ONLY ONE TIME each in my new home. The way I clean (or lack thereof) reminds me of my abusive father. Every single fucking time I try to tend to my house it ends in my heart racing and I sweat and cry and I'm stressed for hours and I can't stop it. I can't stop it. It won't go away. This is how it is every single fucking time. I found a decoration that said 2022 on it in my hoarder stash. It has been almost 2 years. I have to take breaks im between each pile because the absolute fear my brain has instilled in me is exhausting. I've gotten over my embarrassment and ego before and have reached out for help in cleaning, but I am just realizing that I need actual organization for my shit (dressers, drawers, boxes, etc. that I am not used to having or thinking about all my life so that's a big reason why shit has just been in piles, I've started getting some things now), and there's so much that it isn't done in a day and it all begins piling up again. One time I hadn't even had the bit of junk in my doorway cleared for like a whole hour because I was running back and forth with objects, crying and shaking and sweating with my heart beating, poking and grabbing individual items and dropping them over and over to check for bugs and pests before separating into different categories. Nothing gets done. And it's not like I give up. I keep fucking going. I embarrass myself by bringing in countless other people for help, I talk about my experiences, I vent my frustrations, I draw, I take breaks, I try being patient with myself, I try being aggressive with myself, I try being optimistic, I try being apathetic, I try using the coping mechanisms and exercises I have learned, I regulate my breathing, I put on music, I put on a show I like, but nothing ever works. I need to see a psychiatrist and therapist again but I no longer have insurance. The landlord will be here eventually and I am crying on my couch.
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See a therapist if you can afford it. The therapist will help you to accept and look at your past without being affected by it, and to live comfortably in the present. Also to relax and accept your life the way it is. I wish you the best.
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