Denial Is The New Black

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There is a use for everything. I am sure of it. The last time I spoke with my partner she was calling me a lier about her hoarding. She demanded that I go back through my blogs and remove any reference. It is sad when someone you love is in denial about something that can be as dangerous as hoarding.
Several months ago I was helping her move a Futon up to the bedroom when I was clobbered by a falling board that would have certainly knocked me unconscious if not killed me had I not caught it and cushioned the impact on my skull. There wasn't enough room in the stairway and surrounding space to do the task we were trying to do. It was like that much of the time.
Another time, a friend came over to deliver a CD I had purchased several months before. I was embarrassed because I could smell cat feces and knew my friend could as well. Every morning on my way to the bathroom I had to walk in cat feces and urine in front of the toilet where I needed to be. It was very difficult to live like that.
I realize that when she goes to work everyday she is presenting an image. The image seems to say I am normal in appearance.
People were not allowed to visit our home. At first this was OK with me, but later this became not so easy. I was trying to supplement my low income with some random projects that could help keep my car on the road and some other things that my monthly check just does not cover. So I sold some pottery. I repaired some jewelry. I tried my best to maintain a working studio. This was difficult if not impossible at times with the constant incoming "whatever".
There was not space for me to sit at a table and eat for several months. Sometimes the only chair in a room for me to sit was cluttered with her clothes which she never hung up, or picked up after she wore them. After a cat would lay on them they would be ready for the laundry. I was not permitted to run the vacuum cleaner because it scared the cats. There was so much furniture and clutter and clothes laying around it was almost impossible to vacuum and mop anyway. Still I held my ground and gave her fair warning when I was going to do these things. I had to try. I was brought up in a clean home and my mother worked hard at keeping it clean and tidy. My father would correct us if we left our toys and clothes about...so it is built in me to try to be organized and to make my bed, clean my dishes, and pick up things that don't belong where they are. It was excruciatingly painful for me to live with a hoarder and the feeling of being buried alive continues to haunt me. I lost things in that house. It is like it swallowed things up. I am not in denial about my own complicity in this. I went on dumpster dives with her. I got rid of some of my stuff, only to be horrified that she would fill the space before I would even get home. Last time I saw her she was enraged at me. She was still angry at me for something I did 2 summers ago. I marvel at what the people she works with would think of her if they saw how she lived and how she subjected her loved ones and pets to live. I should have left the night I was almost knocked out by that board. Maybe if it would have hit me she would have noticed that the boards were stacked to fall on me. But probably not because she is in denial. She and I both know people that are in denial. There isn't anything I know of that will shatter it. It's not a broken mirror, it's art!