My mother had completely lost it. She was marking down prices as if it was Black Friday and she was a bouncing yellow smiley face. Only problem was she didn’t look happy at all with her clenched teeth and her grimacing face.

This rummage sale wasn’t about making friends or earning extra cash, it was about getting rid of crap, eliminating clutter and reclaiming the garage. 

Although the prices were already slashed, if a customer reconsidered and put an item back on the folding tale, she gave it to them for free. “Just get it out of here” I heard her say. 

Among the junk there were some real finds and if any collectors had come to that yard sale, they would have left elated. 

But it was when she sold my bed, the bed I was still sleeping in that I realized she was spiraling out of control. Imagine how unsettling it would be to witness your mother having nervous breakdown and a garage sale on the very same day. 

Years before my mother had enjoyed going to yard sales, estate sales and secondhand shops. She and her friends would hunt for treasure in the local Goodwill or Salvation Armies. We even had fully furnished rooms back then, it was a golden time. 

At some point that all changed and suddenly rather than collecting objects, my mother was all about getting rid of them. Junk or treasure, she wanted it gone. She became the opposite of a hoarder and turned in to a “Possession- Purger” and remains so to this day. 

People who have OCS or Obsessive Compulsive Spartanism (and yes I was thrilled to discover that there’s an actual  name for this syndrome) don’t think they are suffering from anything. One with OCS believes that everything should be dispensable yet functional and it is people with an over-abundance of belongings who have a problem.

To my mother having more than three bowls and an easy chair is an over-abundance of belongings. When there’s the occasional big family dinner at her house, we have to bring our own place settings, pans to cook in and of course the food.

Her house is sparsely furnished in mid-century lawn furniture. Everything is portable and can be easily removed. Since there isn’t very much furniture, she has many empty rooms that echo. The concept of “guest comfort” doesn’t figure into her design plan. 

Although  she barely has any possessions, you rarely leave her home without taking something with you. In addition to the give-aways,  there’s usually  a bag for the Golden Rule Thrift Store waiting to be filled up.

If when you were growing-up, your mother gave your favorite dress to a neighbor across the street or threw a perfectly good comforter in the trash, you might develop a few pack-rat tendencies yourself. I have a problem getting rid of books. If my mother saw  my overly crowded book-shelves, she might  go into anaphylactic shock. 

Sometimes when I want to torture my mother I describe a scenario to her where she is forced to live at my house. Unfortunately we don't have  any extra space and her room would also have to serve as a store-room. She’ll have to share a tiny room with all the junk and knick-knacks I’ve been collecting for years. Surrounding her on all sides will be boxes upon boxes- her worst nightmare. On the plus side, I think her fear of this becoming a reality keeps her healthy!

On the day of her “terminate- eleminate  sale,"  she had just returned to our family home after living in Rhode Island for a time. Since she and my father had separated and moved out, I had rented the extra rooms to my fellow theatre students. Can you picture it, a house full of collegiate drama students? Oh the drama and oh the clutter of props and costumes. If we had needed to throw a show together we could have done it at a moments notice.

Because most of my roomies were also in our student organization “Players,” it was decided that we would hold a fund raising yard sale at the house. We eagerly  put  the donated items in the garage. On the day of the sale it rained and  the sale was delayed. Then the next time it was scheduled, something happened and it was postponed again. 

Since we were theatre students not business majors, we soon lost interest in actually making any money for our club. The garage remained full with the donated drama crap. Since some of it had gotten rained on, many of the clothes/wardrobe were rotting and moldy, so not only did it look like sh*t in there, it smelled like it too!

One of my roommates was an embarrassingly untalented girl named Clara. Although she wasn’t talented, she wasn’t pretty or nice either. She had very little going for her besides a tremendous amount of drive and arrogance. If only there had been Reality TV back then, having no talent wouldn’t have been such a hindrance. 

As she couldn’t act and therefore didn’t get cast in any roles at our school, she decided to go where she would be recognized for the star she was. Working her way down from our Theatre Dept., to a Junior college drama dept to finally a truly awful community theater group, she finally found her niche.

Clara’s parents supported her in her theatrical endeavors but they desperately wanted her to move back home. Since Clara had so many belongings she decided to continue to use what had been my mother’s bedroom as her own personal storage unit. My mother’s nightmare had come to fruition. 

Although the house was filled with college students, it was also still my brother’s home base. Every now and then he would have a manic episode and come home with four professional mixers, three busted radios and a home brewery kit that he had picked up somewhere. He’d then store them in the garage. 

My mother returned home to find a “full of stuff garage” and a “full of people house” but it was her "full of storage stuff" bedroom  that really set her off. She tried to keep it together as she called Clara’s parents and told them to come immediately and collect Clara’s boxes. Then she started dragging everything out of the garage and putting all of it up for sale. As the day progressed she got more and more frantic, as if she was going to be charged for any items left behind.  

 Trying to force garage sale items on customer’s who didn’t want them or nearly crying upon learning that the charity truck couldn’t pick the unsold goods until Monday isn’t sane behavior. As far as I know having excess stuff isn’t life threatening. 

Although my mother almost had a breakdown (her words,) she wasn’t hospitalized or anything. I believe that by the end of the day, with more than half of  the junk gone, she felt much calmer. For my mother the act of purging is like Valium, post purge  she becomes much more peaceful and  relaxed. 

Now whenever I sense that air of possession nervousness surrounding my mother, I try to steer clear of her and not aggravate the situation. If I am visiting, I attempt  to not  bring too much stuff.  But going to her house is like camping with less luxuries. You can’t assume she has anything or if she had it before that  she still has it. I bet you can always find what you need with a hoarder.