Why to people become obsessed?

Because of strong emotions of love and attachment. When those two feelings combine, they create
happiness. Happiness makes everyone feel good, so if the thing they're obsessed with makes them
happy, it's hard to turn away from it.

Hoarders:
New research suggests that hoarders have unique patterns of brain activity when
faced with making decisions about their possessions, compared with healthy
people. And despite the fact that hoarding has traditionally been seen as a symptom
or subtype of obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD), brain activity in those who
cannot de-clutter is also distinct from that of people with typical OCD, the study
shows.
Many things are unique and distinct about hoarding, says Dr. Eric Hollander,
director of the autism and obsessive compulsive spectrum disorder program at
Montefiore/Albert Einstein School of Medicine in New York, who was not associated
with the new research. He notes that the new study adds to the evidence that
hoarding should be recognized as a specific syndrome that falls not under the
standard definition of OCD only about 18% of people with hoarding symptoms
meet the full criteria for OCD as it is currently defined but within a spectrum of
related conditions. [This] is a very interesting and important study, he says.
Indeed, a separate diagnosis of hoarding disorder has been proposed for inclusion in
the upcoming revision of psychiatrys diagnostic manual, the Diagnostic and
Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5).

Why do we feel the need to buy new things? And why does it make us
happy?
The idea that you can't buy happiness has been exposed as a myth, over andover. Richer countries
are happier than poor countries. Richer people within richer countries are happier, too. The
evidence is unequivocal: Money makes you happy. You just have to know what to do with it.
So what should you do with it?
Stop buying so much stuf, renowned psychologist Daniel Gilbert told me in an interview a few
years ago, and try to spend more money on experiences. "We think that experiences can be fun
but leave us with nothing to show for them," he said. "But that turns out to be a good thing."
Happiness, for most people not named Sartre, is other people; and experiences are usually shared
-- first when they happen and then again and again when we tell our friends.
On the other hand, objects wears out their welcome. If you really love a rug, you might buy it. The
first few times you see, you might admire it, and feel happy. But over time, it will probably reveal
itself to be just a rug. Try to remember the last time an old piece of furniture made you ecstatic. For
me, at least, it's a difficult exercise. The wonder of my potted plants certainly wanes with time.
"Psychologists call this habituation, economists call it declining marginal utility, and the rest of us
call it marriage," Gilbert wrote in Stumbling on Happiness.
But there might be another reason why buying objects rather than experiences tends to disappoint.
For the most materialistic people, there might be something dull -- even disappointing -- about the
act of buying itself.
"Materialists are more likely to overspend and have credit problems, possibly because they believe
that acquisitions will increase their happiness and change their lives in meaningful ways," Marsha
L. Richins of the University of Missouri concludes in her new paper, "When Wanting Is Better Than
Having," published this month in the Journal of Consumer Research. But in three separate studies,
materialists reported significantly more happiness thinking about their purchase beforehand than
they did from actually owning the thing they wanted.
"Thinking about acquisition provides momentary happiness boosts to materialistic people, and
because they tend to think about acquisition a lot, such thoughts have the potential to provide

frequent mood boosts," Richins wrote, "but the positive emotions associated with acquisition are
short-lived. Although materialists still experience positive emotions after making a purchase, these
emotions are less intense than before they actually acquire a product."
Once again, it would seem that experiences makes us happier than stuff -- even in the act of
buying. The finding that paying for something is less satisfying than wanting it shouldn't be
confused with the idea that buying things makes us sad. It's hard to find a study showing that
"retail therapy" (i.e.: shopping your way out of a bad mood) doesn't work; most
research suggests that a well-timed excursion to the mall can lift one's spirits. But if Gilbert and
Richins are right, then the bulk of the therapy provided by shopping is everything that happens
before the check-out counter. You don't have to go into debt to achieve nearly the same emotional
gains from materialism.
In my column for The Atlantic this month, Death of the Salesmen, I found that the retail space is
generally divided between stores racing to the price bottom to attract lower-income consumers and
stores clinging to the patina of a shopping experience to lure richer shoppers. Maybe those stores,
and their customers, understand Richins' research, intuitively. When we're shopping, not for the
things we need, but for the things we merely want, it's the experience of shopping and buying that
makes us truly happy.

Why you are emotionally attached?

1) Fear that you might need it someday. This is a common one. How many things
have you owned for many years under the theory that you might need it someday? Ask
yourself, how likely is it really that I will use this again? What will it really hurt if I dont
have it? Could I borrow the item temporarily? Or rent it? Or go without?
2) Hatred of throwing things out. This is another classic, especially for the older
generation that was brought up to save and reuse everything. Im definitely guilty of this
as well. I have empty boxes and bags and stuff just in case I need it. I have things that
dont work that Im going to fix or have fixed one of these days.
3) Guilt about getting rid of gifts. Admit it. You have stuff that was given to you as a
gift that you dont want and dont use, but you feel guilty about getting rid of it. When
you think about it, it really is a waste to hang on to gifts you dont use when someone
else might be happy to have it.
4) Feelings of overwhelm. You might have so much stuff that you dont know where to
start. I know that this has been a problem for me, and it continues to present a
challenge. I need to stop worrying about how much stuff that I need to get rid of and just
attack it consistently and methodically.
5) Feeling that you are supposed to have stuf. My family has given me
decorations, paintings, plants, furniture, and all sorts of stuff because normal people
have stuff, and I had little stuff. The funny thing is that although I appreciate the
sentiment, I never asked or wanted any of it. Im supposed to have stuff, so I have it.
6) Feelings of uncertainty about how to go about getting rid of your
stuf.Should you sell it? If so, how? E-bay? Yard sale? Should you donate it? Goodwill?
Salvation Army? Do they even want it? Where are they located?
7) Sentimental attachment. This one is almost universal. You probably have pictures
and mementos and items that remind you of things. Some are probably buried in closets

and wont be looked at unless you happen to move or you stumble upon it accidentally
while looking for something. If its the memory that you dont want to lose, can you just
take a digital picture of it and then get rid of it? Yeah, I know Im a cold-hearted bastard,
but its just a thought.

We are loving creatures. Loving is in our nature. Love is "a fixed part of our species needs," to
quote Gaylin.
We have a need to be loved, but also to love. This need to love may find its outlet in many people
and things -- love for a spouse, love for a parent, love for a sibling, love for a child, love for a friend,
love for a mentor, love for a student, love for self, love for a pet. Each has its own unique
configuration. But we also have love for work, love for art, love for nature, love for
country/culture/ethnicity, etc.

Love is always about recognition of the other. To love is to recognize the other's
specialness to us.
One part of love relates to security, safety, dependency, comfort. We need the other. If a
loved other is taken away from us, we experience painful loss. This is most obvious in our
mutual relationships with others. Axel Honneth, paraphrasing Hegel says, Love
represents the first stage of reciprocal recognition, because in it subjects mutually
confirm each other with regard to the concrete nature of their needs and thereby
recognize each other as needy creatures. In the reciprocal experience of loving, both
subjects know themselves to be united in their neediness, in their dependence on each
other. But I think this is also true in less reciprocal types of love as well. We experience
loss when we are separated from our home country, when we must leave a good job,
when an object of sentimental value is taken from us.
This is most evident in a child who carries around a security blanket or a beloved stuffed
animal. He loves this object. It provides comfort, emotional nurturance. Because it gives
him something, provides something for him, nurtures him -- this blanket, in a sense,
loves him back. A security item is often used at the challenging developmental stage
between symbiosis with the mother and increasing individuation. The item acts as a
"transitional object" (Winnicott). When the mother is no longer constantly present, the
child is thrown into crisis. The transitional object smoothly transitions the child across this
scary divide -- it is a "not-mother" object, but one that still embodies comforting aspects
of the mother -- softness, warmth, envelopment. Viewed one way, this is a relief: the
child learns that he can get his needs met from sources besides the mother. Should she
not always be present, he can still be okay. Viewed another way, this is still terrifying. The
child is forced to confront the fact that it is fundamentally dependent on others. The
transitional objects helps here too because the child has complete control over it. This
helps the child transition into the relational world where people are not always 100%
reliable. Use of this object represents a transition from a purely external world-view into a
more complicated world of internal and external realities. Eventually the child realizes
that aspects of the external world can be internalized (i.e., 'I need the love of others, but
when they are not present, I can comfort myself until they return').