Hello again Well - of course I remember your post, and you've been in my thoughts since.
Putting my trunk envy on one side for a moment (!), I wanted to thank you for your kind words and to say how much I admire both your honesty and your bravery. Any friend of elephants is a friend of mine! 
From my own situation, I can certainly identify with the sense of bereavement felt at the loss of a past life, a past self. I know that my friend certainly would too, and much of what you describe of what for you has built up, and why, is mirrored here. I found myself nodding in recognition, understanding and agreement as I read.
You're not a freak, Well, and neither is my friend. I think that more people than we realise are living like this - all sorts of people and for all sorts of reasons - but it's often hidden. It's easy for some to stare, or point, or snigger, or judge, or gossip or complain about a seemingly neglected house, when what they should be doing is trying to understand the person within, or at least mind their own bloody business!
From my own experience and from my experience with my friend here, it sounds like you're going about it in just the right way. Small steps, Well, small steps, but keep taking them. Every single little step you take means that it's better than it was before. It's progress towards the goal.
It's incredibly hard to let go of things that anchor you to the life that you didn't want to lose. But when those things risk drowning you, are pulling you down with them, and are preventing you from living the life you have now, it's time to cut the rope. You don't have to get rid of absolutely everything, but limit it to a memory box, a scrap book, some photos, perhaps? One example for me is the dresses hanging in the back of my wardrobe that seemingly belong to another time, another life, another woman. Inspired by my friend, and by you, Well, I've decided to let them go. I'm going to photograph them, and then have them made into cushions or donate them to charity. She's not completely gone, that lass, but she's changed and life's changed irreversibly, and it's time she let go and moved on. Inspiring, you.
I know already from my friend that there is sense of freedom to be had. He has talked of some weight being lifted from his shoulders with every single bag of rubbish or recycling that leaves the house. It's very early days here of course, but he's enjoying the bits of space that are slowly opening up again. Just from a practical point of view, having medical supplies stored away and easily accessible, for example, is already making his life a tiny bit easier.
I loved your bramble bush analogy. I think you have to grit your teeth, expect some scratches, yes, but look forward to that path on the other side. I think it might well be better than where you are, just like my friend. I'm here, pulling and pushing and willing you through. I can't be with you in person, Well, but I'm with you in spirit and I bet I'm not the only one on this thread who is.
My friend said the other day 'it looks like somebody cares'. I do, Well. So get on with it lass, little by little. I don't want you stuck, like Winnie the Pooh, half way through Rabbit's doorway. I don't want to have to come around and hang teatowels to dry over your legs.
Although it would give me the opportunity to half inch your steamer trunk....hmmm.
Report back please. 