A few years ago, we worked with a woman in West Seattle who was preparing to sell her home and move to a smaller town with a lower cost of living. When we first stepped inside, we were met with rooms overflowing with clothing—thousands of pieces stacked, stored, and piled high.
At first glance, it seemed like a classic case of clothing hoarding. We’ve encountered many clients who accumulate excessive amounts of items, so this wasn’t unusual. But as we spent time with her, the true story behind the clothing came to light.
Our client had been living under the control of her son, who struggled with drug addiction. He lived in the home, but rather than contributing, he manipulated and threatened her, keeping a tight grip on her daily life. He restricted her movements, only allowing her to go to work—at a charity organization—so he could continue siphoning her earnings to fuel his addiction.
The home had no running water or electricity. He neglected the bills, redirecting every available dollar toward drugs. Without access to basic utilities, including laundry, our client had no way to wash her clothes. In response, she started buying secondhand clothing from the charity store where she worked, ensuring she had something clean to wear. When an outfit became too soiled, she would set it aside and buy another—repeating this cycle for years, until the house became filled with garments she had no means to wash or discard.
Eventually, she broke free. Her son was removed from the home, and she was determined to rebuild her life. Selling the house and moving was a key step in that process.
Hoarding is often seen as a mental health disorder—an uncontrollable compulsion. But in this case, it wasn’t about hoarding at all. It was survival. This experience reinforced an important lesson for us: Every client has a story. Understanding their journey helps us provide better, more compassionate downsizing services. The key? Listen, ask questions, and never assume.