Capital, It Fails Us Now: An Introduction to Squalor

Consume consume consume
accumulate accumulate accumulate
the one who dies with the most toys wins
LOOK AT ALL THESE TOYS!

Actually I have very few belongings compared to most Americans. Still I cannot keep them in good order, and never have been able to.

I'm forty-two years old.

I've been depressed, both in my heart and according to most clinical criteria, for as long as I can remember. By "depression" I mean inexpressible sorrow and stifled anger, with the resultant deficits in thinking, feeling, and behavior. Why? Go figure. My family sort of sucked, is part of it. Also capitalism, probably (more on this later -- the two are not as separable as you might think).

I also am troubled by: PTSD, an unspecifiable personality disorder ("borderline / avoidant" might begin to describe it), chronic anxiety, obsessive-compulsive traits, mild dissociative tendencies, internet addiction, severe "demand resistance," occasional periods of overindulgence in The Chronic, and various other, lesser psychic evils and woes.

I live in extreme social isolation. I have basically no family now (no siblings; father dead; mother impossible, very little contact). I have two (2) friends at this point; neither friendship involves expectations beyond being available to talk and hang out once in a while, plus occasional help with practical matters. I haven't been in a serious relationship for years, and at this point it's hard to imagine that I could be again. I don't see a therapist or participate in any groups. There is really no one there for me, in the sense that most people take for granted.

I've come to feel that trying to get ongoing assistance from the public mental health system is boring and annoying and invasive, and finally unhelpful and not worth the trouble. The older I get the less patience I have for it.

I have no job. Well, that's not quite true: I do some typing and transcription at home, a few hours a week, but I don't have a real job. I started receiving Social Security disability income in late 2003, after a hospitalization in 2002 followed by a year and a half of heavy and unhelpful medication and intermittent employment. I stopped the medication after I began to receive Social Security and have not resumed. I feel no worse.

I don't like the city, or even the state, I live in. (I've been here for over 20 years.) It has its points but in many ways I feel strongly that I'd be happier elsewhere. I can't begin to imagine what it would take for me to be able to move, though.

I haven't completed my education. Again, I don't know what it would take for me to be able to go back to school. I can't even stand to think about it.

...Oh, right: SQUALOR.

My VERY TINY studio apartment is terrible, and has been for years. I don't have enough shelving, my filing cabinet just has piles in it and I need another one, I have weird crappy random furniture that doesn't fit well in here (and no other storage space), my futon is more like a piece of stale rye bread than a bed, there are piles of scary unopened mail and miscellaneous papers, the floor is filthy, the walls are stained from cigarette smoke and condensation, my kitchen cabinets are awful, etc., etc., etc. (It used to be much worse, though, as in Level 3/4, until about a year ago.) I now seem stuck at Level 2-ish, a big improvement but still far from "good." I think I've almost lost any real awareness that it could be better than this, that I could do better, that it's worth doing, that I deserve better -- I've never maintained a clean, organized, pleasant living space for any length of time, even when other areas of my life were going relatively well. I can easily imagine living at this level of squalor for the rest of my life, and it scares me.

My health insurance situation -- Medicare and, intermittently, additional state-sponsored coverage -- is chronically disorganized and confusing and infuriating and depressing. Lately I haven't even been trying to straighten it all out: we don't even open THAT mail! We throw it on a pile and try not to think about it, and just suck up the spasms of dread and shame!

I don't think I'll go into my financial squalor in any detail just now, but: there is an old credit-card debt situation, and we don't talk about that. Even so, the overall $ squalor is better than it was a few years ago (see below).

Of course I actually blame myself, not capitalism or anything or anyone else, for all of this.

You would never guess any of this if we met and talked for a few minutes. My vocational counselor remarked recently that I "mask my symptoms incredibly well." This is not correct. I am that competent and normal-seeming person. I am also that ill, isolated, heartsick, miserable person who lives in a horrible mess. Neither is fake. Both are real. It all coexists, in fragments.

Fortunately:

• I am physically quite healthy. My only bad health habit is smoking. I have a membership at a YWCA and use it -- less regularly than I'd like, but I do go. I live close to a co-op grocery store with great produce, so I eat well, and pretty cheaply too, which has not always been the case.
• I'm grateful for the friendships I do have.
• I am thankfully free of severe thought disorders, hallucinations, delusions, etc. (Um, I think I am, at least.) May they stay away.
• I read a lot, mostly on the internet and some books as well (fiction, nonfiction, you name it). I go to the library a lot.
• I live in a relatively safe and attractive neighborhood. It's not problem-free, but it's OK.
• I do talk to people via the internet some, mostly about music or writing. I have trouble forming and keeping relationships, even low-key ones, even online, but still that minimal contact can be really nice and sustaining. (It can also be upsetting, so I am careful.)
• Living where I live, I don't have to own a car, so I don't. This has its drawbacks, of course, but on the whole I'm happier without one.
• I don't watch TV. Nothing against people who do, but I don't like it and am glad not to have it in my life.
• I like music, mostly post-punk, punk, noise rock, and some dance music. I like to keep up on the new stuff, and delve into the old. I still go to hear live music once in a while and I even have fun sometimes.
• I enjoy making CD mixes of songs for my friends; they seem to like them, too.
• I have another blog, basically a scrapbook of notes about music and writing that I like. It's nothing much at all but I enjoy doing it just for myself, to remember the things that hold so much meaning for me.
• Since last year I've been able to keep up with the Three Household Chores -- dishwashing, laundry, and trash -- pretty consistently and well, apart from a few lapses on the dish front. This new era was kicked off by a visit from a county worker whose job was to help people like me clean up their living spaces. He was scheduled for two visits but somehow I could only accept one, and even that was not easy. I don't know how many bags of old clothing and papers and trash we took out, but it was a lot. And he DID MY DISHES FOR ME. Salut, Brad! Thank you!
• I finally dealt with my awful tax squalor a few years ago, thanks to a wonderful tax service in my city that offers free assistance to low-income people, and now it is all in order. Feels good.
• I don't have much trouble covering my basic expenses. There's not a lot left over, and there is that aforementioned credit-card debt nightmare, as well as some old medical bills, but I keep up with the rent, phone, groceries, etc. (I live VERY frugally, if that isn't obvious.) Again, this has not always been the case. Thanks, Social Security!
• My city has a fantastic and super-cheap discount/used clothing store, so with two medium-sized shopping trips a year I have all the clothes I need. They're not very stylish, but they're fine.
• I take care of my appearance in basic ways. I used to not bathe or brush my teeth for weeks (because I wouldn't leave my apartment for weeks). Now it's down to days at a time, once in a while. I'm usually at least presentable.
• I have some savings. Not nearly as much as I'd like, but there is something.
• This spring I acquired a couple of small house plants and have managed to keep them alive so far.
• It has been very hot here for the past week (and I don't have A/C), but this morning it finally rained; the temperature went down by 20 degrees and now everything seems much more doable.

...All this and I've sort of run out of steam on my original intent for this post. For now, though, consider:

How weird is it that there is now a whole busy nationwide (maybe international, I haven't checked) internet community of people who are struggling with intractable messiness and clutter, to the point of feeling horribly oppressed and miserable and overwhelmed for years by the sheer physical presence of all that fucking stuff, many of whom also suffer from mental illness, usually depression? Do you think this particular constellation of problems existed, in its current form and on its present scale, even 40 years ago? I'm not a conspiracy theorist but I think there's something ... noncoincidental ... about the appearance of this Squalor Lifestyle as an identifiable ... not culture, exactly, but an odd kind of social phenomenon, a common secret that has reached critical mass to the point where it can't really be a secret any more.

Dirt behind the daydream
Dirt behind the daydream
The happy ever after
It's at the end of the rainbow
Gang of Four, "Ether," 1979

"After two years it doesn't get any dirtier." -- Quentin Crisp