I did, and still do. Many years I had a deep inner conviction: that the life I led was not my real life, not the life I could blossom in, realise myself as a human being. I felt trapped.
That is why I, initially being a checker, also became a hoarder. I got very afraid that something of value might get lost. And I began to store away new purchases (like nice shoes, a watch, even books, and stereo equipment) in cupboards. Kept them new, in boxes. Most striking example: a pair of patent leather shoes, which are now 22 years old and unused. And: an amplifier and tuner, as well as speaker units (14 years old, but unused; I am afraid the warranty will have expired by now...).
All with the idea in mind: the day will come, when I can live without the all the fussy mess, in a nicely furnished habitat, and only then I will become the New Cuthbert, freed from the burdens of OCD.
I've come some way in seeing this as unnecessary, self-inflicted pain, and that there is no use in letting new objects outlive Cuthbert himself.
Do you recognize any of this?
Ciao, Cuthbert.
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