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Treatment of hoarding induced trauma

The American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic Standards Manual, Edition V (2013) reports that between 2 and 6% of the general population have a hoarding disorder. Once considered a type of obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD), hoarding is now regarded as a serious clinical condition co-morbid with diagnoses of depression, social phobia, generalized anxiety disorders, attention deficit disorder, and sometimes psychosis given the delusional levels of denial that hoarders often present (Frost, Stekelee, Tolin, 2011). Hoarders engage in excessive acquisition of items, whether those items have real world value or not, as well as excessive shopping. This behavior often results in living environments that are seriously compromised, if not uninhabitable: blocked entrances and exits, leading to fire hazards; hygiene and safety problems resulting from the acquisition of consumer products, items of supposed sentimental value, plus a plethora of strange items, including trash and feces.

           Imagine the life of someone living with a hoarder. Imagine what it must be like to live in perpetual squalor, or to fear being trapped in the event of a fire or some other emergency, or more commonly, to lack space for one’s own personal belongings. Other consequences include: sleeping in beds that double as storage areas, or losing valuable items because they are buried or crushed beneath a hoarder’s accumulated belongings; discovering beloved animals neglected or deceased, or the discovery of unwelcome creatures, such as rodents.  Imagine having one’s entire household space or the interior of vehicles rendered unusable, unsafe or unhygienic. Partners and other family members are the invisible and sometimes buried victims of hoarding behaviors. Invisible because while traditional treatments for hoarding behaviors have focused clinical attention upon the perpetrators of hoarding, they have focused much less so upon supportive or instructive interventions for or on the behalf of impacted loved ones. Within existing treatment models, there is no established diagnostic criteria nor intervention strategy for the treatment of hoarding induced trauma (HIT), a condition based upon discovery of PTSD symptoms related to similar acting out disorders, such as sex addiction, leading to treatment models like sex addiction induced trauma (SAIT) (Minwalla, O., 2012)

This is a serious omission in the field of obsessive compulsive disorder treatment. Treating the problem of hoarding simply as an obsessive-compulsive disorder, or even as a disorder co-morbid with mood, anxiety or psychotic disorders, while avoiding the proper diagnosis and treatment of the accompanying abuse of others, constitutes a significant area of clinical neglect. The perpetration of hoarding behaviors entails much more than the pathologically excessive acquisition of items. The condition further entails the maintaining of an elaborate thought system that compartmentalizes a protected reality, a routinized impingement upon a partner or family member’s living space, plus a manipulation of such victims’ reality. Hoarding perpetrators hide belongings in obscure or secret spaces, deceiving others as to the extent of their hoarding behaviors. They make false promises about cleaning unhygienic surfaces, or tidying cluttered spaces, without follow-up on such promises. Alternatively, perpetrators invoke false rationales, such as casting spilled garbage as ‘compost’ merely awaiting appropriate elimination, or normalizing lack of hygiene by comparing the accumulation of feces in common areas to implicitly virtuous, eco-friendly ‘dry toilets’ such as those prominent in emerging world economies. Or, they declare disingenuously that items unused or placed in inaccessible areas will be “used at some point in the future” and must therefore be kept in their existing, congested spaces. However, when real attempts are made by others to tidy or clean household areas, perpetrators regress from glibly-stated organizational goals, are prone to bullying behaviors, which they subsequently deny and indeed project onto their plaintive loved ones, ever assuming the role of victim rather than accepting responsibility. These calculated rather than compulsive tactics result not only in frustration for others, but also a sense of betrayal and confusion, plus a feeling of being gaslighted in a world of relational danger.

Meanwhile, if the rationales employed by perpetrators seem bizarre, the underlying motives for hoarding behaviors may seem entirely inexplicable. This is another area of clinical neglect in the treatment of hoarding behaviors. Though Cognitive Behavioral Therapy has been shown to reduce symptoms of hoarding behavior (Gillman et al, 2011), there is little evidence that such approaches unearth the compartmentalized realities protected by perpetrators. These realities include deep feelings of emptiness that are self-medicated by excessive accumulations; distorted and excessive self-identifications with personal belongings, or the behavior of clinging to objects as a symbolic substitute for unresolved abandonment depression. Existing treatment models do little to explain such dynamics to either perpetrators or their impacted loved ones. Instead, partners and other family members are told they have “enabled” perpetrators, become “co-hoarders” by providing or perpetuating the kind of living environments that make possible accumulating behavior. This is like telling a burglary victim that he or she has enabled a thief, become a “co-thief”, via the practice of homeownership and consumerism in a capitalist society. Otherwise, partners and family members are simply encouraged to be patient with hoarding perpetrators, or they are coached to not yell at or criticize them, as if protecting the hoarder from feelings of shame or decompensation were the paramount, if not exclusive purpose of treatment.

Such approaches fail to address the hoarder’s lack of awareness about the real-world impact of their behavior. They express little about the intrapsychic, familial and social underpinnings of hoarding behavior, such as anal personality structure, or gender-based subversive/oppositional reactions to patriarchal norms of property ownership. Perpetrators erect alongside their hoarding behaviors a complex conscious and unconscious system of relational reality that perpetuates a pattern of abuse upon loved ones that is tantamount to human rights violations. A perpetrator’s interior/exterior reality is translational, crosses physical and symbolic relational boundaries in a manner that Laplanche (2005) describes. Living in a psychic vacuum, needing a vacuum of another kind, they induce a like interior/exterior reality in others. Their system of behavior and psychic manipulation denies fair allocation of space to others, not to mention filling space that could be made available to visitors, resulting in social isolation plus the exclusion of outsiders, potential residents, immigrants. It places loved ones in danger while imposing upon overpopulated or housing-limited communities a cruelly ironic waste of personal and collective space.

The hoarding induced trauma (HIT) model is a directive, didactic, and intensive clinical method designed to galvanize awareness in a perpetrator of a complex and destructive pathology. Coordinated clinical intervention with individuals and families, coupled with psychiatric intervention to contain psychotic symptoms, is designed to outline thirteen different areas of distinct trauma suffered by victims of hoarding behaviors, and to confront the intersection of hoarding, personality disorder and distorted social constructs that perpetrators typically exhibit. The hoarding induced trauma (HIT) model aims to comprehensively address and treat the abusive impact of that pathology upon all who live with this terrible disorder. 

REFERENCES

American Psychiatric Association, (2013). Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (fifth edition). Arlington, VA. American Psychiatric Publishing.

Frost, A., Stekelee, G., Tolin, A. (2011). Comorbidity in Hoarding Disorder. Depression and Anxiety. October 3: 28(10). 876-884.

Gillman, C.M., Norbury, M.M, Villavicencio, A., Morrison, S., Hannan, S.E., Tolin, D.F. (2011). Group Cognitive Behavioral Therapy for Hoarding Disorder: an open trial. Behavior Research and Therapy, 49 (11), 802-807.

Laplanche, J. (2005). Freud and the Sexual: Essays 2000-2006. Transl. J. Fletcher, J. House, and N. Ray. New York: International Psychoanalytic Books, 2011.

Minwalla, O. (2012, July 23). Partners of Sex Addicts Need Treatment for Trauma. The National Psychologist.

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A subtext of what’s important

 

This subtext I reference: it’s nothing special. I mean that all stories have subtext, so it’s not as though authors do so much to inject it. Actually, the perception of subtext is more the job of the reader, in my opinion. These characters of Blended, who live in suburban Oregon in 2016, with the backdrop of an impending, contentious election, have elements to themselves that place them on different sides of social order. They’re parts of groups—some large and dominant, others small and vulnerable. I don’t have to spell it all out. As in therapy, you’d feel where everyone fits, because I think you’d relate.

Tillie Marsden is different from her mother, is closer to the spirit of her dad, who passed away when she was a teen. Mom is parochial, has barely ever left Tennessee, never mind looked beyond American borders with interest or concern. As Tillie volunteers through her local church to help a refugee Pakistani family assimilate into American life, she is re-igniting old, altruistic as well as internationalist leanings. Unlike her family, she is more in touch with her world citizen self. She’s a natural joiner, fits in seamlessly at church, at her non-profit workplace (though she dislikes its autocratic, national politics-mirroring new leadership). She is intuitively inclusive, open to new experiences and people. She is perhaps naïve.

Bill Marsden, her husband, is indulgent of Tillie’s volunteerism, but is skeptical. In between lines, a reader might detect his curmudgeonly scoffing. He’s decent and industrious, and in these ways, he embodies a familiar ethos in western society: he’s a provider, a father; a tacit advocate of neo-liberalist economics, which decree an individualist notion: anyone can make it in this world if they just roll up their sleeves and work hard. Therefore, anyone who isn’t making it is presumptively lazy or unmotivated, or else spending too much time whining. Jacob, his indolent twenty-something son, is therefore something of a challenge, not because he whines, but rather because he doesn’t work hard enough, or doesn’t seize his days properly. Bill is torn between competing needs: to commonly bond with his son versus lighting a fire under him.

Tillie is supportive of Bill’s parental stance, but becomes quietly sympathetic to Jacob’s idiosyncratic, indecisive nature, knowing it’s a function of his individuating path, which ought not be forced. Besides, she remembers a time when she was young and undecided over life’s direction, and was similarly wayward in her habits. Bill, meanwhile, is manifesting his own split internalizations. His late father was a Korean war veteran, and—I sort of hint—a roguish, perhaps womanizing husband (I don’t actually give evidence of this. Again, reader’s job?) Anyway, having not donned a military uniform himself, Bill is solely an economic warrior, and he protects women and children in the plainest and less dramatic ways, eschewing only emotional chores, to his detriment. His mother, still living, is a close-to-home figure—too close, actually. She hoards belongings, clings and irritates, and in so doing, exhibits her unconscious, chronic fear of loss. Thus, Blended is partly about people in relationship who are like one another, and otherwise how they live with differences.

Foreigners intrude, almost literally, and set up a few mirrors, but mostly provide contrast. That’s not the author’s POV, necessarily, but that’s the sense a reader should have if immersed in this fictional Bishop Grove world. My Pakistani refugee family cling together for survival and warmth, and seem ever-calibrating from lingering trauma and seeking fresh air to breathe. The father and husband, Bahram, seems most enamored of his new home and community, and he will look for Tillie’s help in ways that will test her limits. She must figure out a way to help him, to help Mira, his wife, and to help them all while protecting them from common, middle-American projections: that these poor, refugee immigrants are helpless, reliant upon charity; soaking up public resources or Tillie’s time away from her real family.

For many, family is not just the most important unit of society, it is an accomplice to that neo-liberal economic and individualist myth, and this generates considerable stress in some. I have clients, for example, who lament that they don’t have enough time to occupy themselves with social causes, community outreach, and they usually cite the dual priorities of work and family as the reason. I have Tillie belong to a church so as to compliment religious institutions for providing a compromise, for church programs manage to do both, I think: they confront social problems, organize events around community causes while engaging families in a process that brings them together at the same time. This traditional pastime isn’t uniting Tillie, Bill, and Jacob, but that’s only because Bill and Jacob are not religious, which isn’t the fault of the church.

I didn’t have to place action away from American shores to spark this contemplation of outsiders and insiders, similarity and difference, and in an important way I haven’t. I might have fashioned a drama that was closer to home but still compelling notice of diversity and disadvantage: an event based upon the water crisis that has befallen Flint, Michigan, for example, or the Standing Rock controversy, regarding a pipeline project that threatens to impinge upon Sioux Indian lands. Progressives, who can also be parochial, might complain that home-grown oppression is more important for artists and writers to address. As an immigrant and now American (and world) citizen, I lean towards depicting the less fortunate visitor, the truly outside and exiled individual—the refugee—and emphasizing not so much the political triggers of their escape but rather moments of assimilation blended with needs we all have in common. Water is, of course, a need everyone has in common. Oil? I’ll leave that as a question mark.

However, the focus of Blended is upon emotional needs that Americans, foreigners, people from Tennessee, all presumptively have in common: love, attachment, and—paradoxically—separation, and freedom. Hard work. Hard writing. If I keep going like this, I should make it, you might think. I might make it. But for now, I am almost done orienting the reader to what’s important about my novel without giving everything away. I want the reader to do some work, after all. Will you?

 

Graeme Daniels, MFT

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