Three Bags of Trash and Everything I’ve Been Carrying

My younger sister called me out of the blue and said she was at Target in Baton Rouge buying school supplies and wanted to stop by with our mama. The whole thing felt strange as hell. They do not live that far away. So, part of me kept wondering why it took a trip to Target for them to finally come out here. 

I honestly did not know what to think. It was one of those wow, got-damn moments. It was almost like a mind fuck, because I was happy, shocked, confused, and irritated all at once.

As soon as I knew they were coming, I struggled to clean up as much as I could. I had been so overwhelmed that entire past week that all I managed to do was wash the breakfast dishes still sitting in the sink. I wanted the apartment to look better. I truly did. However, I did not have the energy to make it look like I had everything together when I clearly did not.

The timing brought up even more emotions. I had just started driving on the interstate this past week. I have only made two daytime interstate trips with my kids. Plus, I did great both times. That may sound small to somebody else, but it was a real accomplishment for me. I still plan to drive to Napoleonville. I am not sure what I will see when I get there or where my kids and I will fit into everything. The living circumstances down there are not the most comfortable for us. So, it would probably be a quick pass-through instead of a long visit.

When my mama walked through the door, my kids were excited to see her. Watching them together made me smile. They deserve those moments with their grandmother, and she deserves those moments with them. The last time she spent time with them Alina was about four months, and Eli was going on 4 years old. At the same time, the visit made me angry. I was angry because it reminded me how close everyone should be and how much time has passed anyway.

my mama and her grandkids

Then my mama looked around the bedroom I shared with my two kids and asked for a broom. She did not lecture me or make me feel ashamed. She just started helping me clean. As we worked, I realized the room was reflecting something I had been trying not to admit. The room reflected that I had been sinking deeper into high-functioning depression. I had still been parenting, working, going to school, writing, driving, and doing what needed to be done on the outside, however, inside I was overwhelmed and barely keeping up.

Helping my mama clean that bedroom hit me harder than I expected. It was not only about the clutter or the things under the beds. It was about being seen without being judged. She helped me gather three bags of trash and take them out. With every bag that left the apartment, I felt a little lighter. Not fixed. I was not suddenly healed, but less alone.

Before they left that evening, I took pictures of my mama with my kids. I wanted something to hold on to after the surprise of the day wore off. Seeing those pictures made me smile and it pissed me off too. My mama has never driven a car; all she knows is riding her bike and walking. 

So getting anywhere beyond what she can reach on her own means depending on somebody else. My mama knows codependency and I had to break away from codependency post separation. My mama deserves better than the life she is living. I hate feeling like my younger sister runs her whole life. I hate thinking that a simple visit must depend on where my sister needs to shop or what she decides the day will look like.

That is what made the day so conflicting for me. I was grateful they came. Even grateful my children got to spend time with their grandmother. Hell, I was even and grateful my mama helped me when I could not fully help myself. However, I was also hurt that something so ordinary felt so rare. They do not live far away. It should not take school supplies for college, Target, or some last-minute decision for my mama to be able to show up at my door.

Still, for those few hours, she was there. She swept, helped me carry out the trash, spent time with my kids, and gave me relief without asking me to explain why I had fallen behind. Sometimes love does not arrive in a perfect package wrapped up with a bow. Sometimes it arrives unexpectedly. It can come on a random trip to Target, asking where the broom is, and helping you clear a path through the mess.

When they drove away that evening, I was left holding all of it. I am talking about happiness. The anger. The progress I had made on the interstate. The uncertainty about going back to Napoleonville. The weight of my depression, and the love I still have for my mama. 

The visit did not solve any of those things. It simply reminded me that I can be thankful and pissed off at the same time. I was reminded that I can love my family and still hate the way things are. I was also reminded that sometimes being helped with three bags of trash can reveal just how much you have been carrying by yourself.