EmmaSweet suggested I start a blog, and I think she has a point.  And never ask people for advice if you're not willing to try it!  So here I am, sorting out a lot of changes in my life. 

So today, it's time to tackle a joint issue we both share.  Hoarding.  We're not going to show up on a tv show or anything, it's not the dramatically bad.  However, it runs in my family on both sides.  My mother is a hoarder, and getting worse as she ages.  And my father's mother was nearly tv show ready except that she managed to keep it mostly out of the living room and kitchen areas.  But every other room in the house was filled with stuff.  And I mean filled, there was a tiny aisle to walk through.  And you literally risked your life going into the attic, those piles were not stable.  So I noticed while I was going through my closet looking for things that were worth sharing (a lot of my clothes needed to be thrown out, holes/stains, but there were a lot of good pieces Nikki actually liked), my eyes fell on the shelving in the back.  FIlled with boxes.  That some of them I think I packed to move in with Nikki when I spent the first year in EXTREMELY TINY TOWN and we accidentally ended up living next to the KKK dudes, which was a problem since our son is biracial black/white.  Yeah, that was fun.  Nikki agreed to take us back to the larger town I had been living in for offspring's safety even though he was scared to leave the familiar small town he did it for us, and I think really enjoyed it.   

I"m sorry, I ramble a lot.  The add makes my brain go from topic to topic.  So I've seen that hoarding is not a sudden behavior, but a long slow buildup just like the junk.  So it's time to deal with this boxes, determine if things in there that I haven't thought about wanting for fifteen or so years are really worth keeping, and if they are but not worth dispaying, then into rubbermaid totes and the basement.  There is a practical side to living with Nikki's newly open reality, he literally has two wardrobes.  It's a really good thing he's into sharing!  I think I have half a wardrobe that currently fits/functions.  But he has a LOT of clothing.  Including eleventy billion tshirts from his job, they LOVE to tshirt people, it's actually kinda creepy how many tshirts come home from work with him.  I threatened to make them into a flag once and hang it from the roof. 

So after work, we are tackling the closet.  Together.  So it doesn't eat anyone.  Although I"ll probably be the one in the bowels of it on the basis that i"m shorter and it's a slanted closet.  For once my height works in my favor!  But he'll have to scrunch for heavy stuff.  After getting my abdominal hernia fixed when I incarcerated it last summer (man, I scared my poor Nikki, they were talking about me dying if i didn't get that fixed right away) I either pulled it partically back open or ripped a new one just above it.  It's more practical to lose weight and then get it fixed at this point, so heavy lifting is out. 

It's why we have a rowing machine, it's the only thing that is both strength/cardio that will help me lose weight at all, every other machine is one or the other.  But most importantly, after Nikki put in a serious research binge, it's safe for me to use with  my hernia issue.  It won't encourage another incarceration event (where I basically caught six - eight inches of intestine, but luckily felt sick and Nikki got me help so fast I didn't actually injure my inner bits) or force it to tear open more.  I feel loved, he put so much effort into finding me something that will work and is safe.  I repeat that to myself as I row and fight my inherently lazy nature wondering why I'm torturing my body voluntarily. 

Today's Good mindset: Nikki and I can do anything working together.  We're strong and we will weather whatever happens to us, internally and externally.

Today's Stupid Fear: I'm intruding on Nikki's private world and don't belong, even though he says it feels supportive and connective to him that I am so involved.  And the squirrel staring at me through the window wants to eat me.