Where's the way out?.....are we there yet ?

Every single day is abattle to get ready to go out, even if it is only to pop to the shops, not only, the compulsive hoarding makes it a very difficult to actually find something to wear, then find beauty products and make up, stashed here and there in various suitcases and storage baskets, themselves located in different parts of the flat, but, I also have the habbit of trying on several different outfits before being satisfied. I always was a real girly girl, very fashion aware and image consious,even during those post uni years, when was really really broke, I never went to work without a bit of make up, I did not have a lot of money for clothes, but took great care of the ones I had, and always made sure they were well coordinated. Youth was on my side back then, a smart looking top, freshly washed hair, a bit of lipgloss and mascara, was all it took to feel well groomed and ready to face the day.

Taking pride in your appearance is not a bad thing at all, exept when it goes wrong, spirals out of control, and turns into an unhealthy obsession. Those innocent beauty routines have turned into pointless and time consuming rituals.

I can easily spend a whole morning making sure to achieve an immaculate pedicure, then waxing my legs to perfection, moisturising, aplying fake tan, plucking at stray eyebrows, anyone would think I 'm an actress preparing for the Oscars Ceremony! Of course, it never goes as planned, as any pampering session is normally interrupted by a frantic search for missing essentials such as a brush , comb, or nail file. The search usually involves going into another room, or looking through an suitcase or storage box, which turns to be distarcting, as I keep coming across totally irrelevant items such as books, magazines, or bags of sweets which I thought long lost, or do not even remember buying, those hold my attention for longer than wanted, preventing me from finding quickly what I was originally looking for .

Then comes the gruelling task of finding something to wear,I accumulated hundreds of garments though compulsive hoarding, in fact, so many of them, that I can not control or manage therm anymore, the whole bedroom floor is currently covered with clothes, and so is the sofa in the front room! I litterally have to crawl onto the bedroom floor, digging through the heap of clothes, to try and retrieve a pair of trousers or a skirt,and when I finally find it, I realise it has a stain or a hole, so I start searching for another one.Having found half of the outfit, Inow need a top to go with it, unable to find it, I stumble to the front room half naked, and finally find it onthe sofa , then, return to the bedroom to try, the whole outfit in front of the mirror, this is normally when disapointment normally hits me, it is near enough always either, frumpy , dowdy, tarty, vulgar, or simply not looking like what I expected it to look like, so I strip off, and start a new search, put yet another outfit together, and then discard again, onto the bed, the sofa, or the floor, creating  yet more mess. Sometimes, it takes four or five attempts to create the "perfect" look, and then, most of the time, the clothes are creased,so need to be ironed,so then, I have to make may way to the living room, towards the ironing board,which, unsurprisingly, is covered with various clutter and debris, those , I have to move before I start ironing.

Once dressed, it's time for make up,this also involves frantic searching, and endless thinking about coulor coordination, then, to top it all up, I realise the handbag is clashing with the whole lot, so have to look for an other handbag, this involves emptying the one currently in use, as tricky and risky affair, as while doing so, I am at risk of seeing  that there are messages on my mobile, triggering a phobic episode that could spoil the day( what 's left of it).

It takes countless hours to do thes things, the whole process is ponctuated by coffee breaks,or internet breaks, during which I usually write the first post of the day, occasionally, I catch a glimpse of the clock and feel really guilty for wasting so much time, doing what exactly? 

So here I am, ready to go out, having spent the whole morning and part of the afternoon working on my appearance, only to stand behind the front door for another half an hour, waiting for "the right time" to step out making sure there is no one out there to catch me ( phobia again), or going round and round the flat, several times, making sure all doors and widows are closed, no taps are leaking, all appliances unplugged ( fire hazard paranoïa).

Then, then finally, I can take a deep breath, and, with butterflies in my stomach and heart palpitations, I can walk out in the street, look around me, dazzled by the light,  only to realise that I have no one to see, nothing particular to do, so I am free, free to walk aimlessly from one shop to another, trying to fight the urge to purchase something just for the sake of it(compulsive hoarder).

 So,I took so long, wasted so much time, for what exactly?     for who?  What have I done today taht is remotely useful, constructive, fulfilling, rewarding.......?

 OOOHHH!!!                                       Sometimes, I really hate myself so much for what I've become!