I guess they got here about an hour after I finally finished cleaning the house. 

I had just sat down and was taking in the peace that open space gives me and the visual satisfaction of my hard work when they arrived. With their toxic “stink”, their clutter, their vibes. 

And they immediately destroyed not only my clean house but my peace. I don’t mind mess necessarily, but please don’t fuck with my peace! 

They were just boxes. Huge, dirty, beat up boxes full of crap from the attic of my childhood home. The house had been sold and due to a backstory I don’t have time for now, I’d told my dad to trash anything of mine that might still be left. Not worth it I told him. 

But there they were anyway. It seemed like hundreds but there were only about ten. Way too many either way. Just glancing at them I knew they were mostly trash, and mostly not mine. I was now faced with a choice: trash em completely without a glance or…

Well maybe Bro and Sis will want a few memories to keep. I touched the boxes and their contents as if they were covered in goo and they gave off the most awful nose feels I’ve ever experienced. Weird because I can’t smell. Also there was no goo, just a little dust really. My mother kept a spotless home. All the gross is in your head weirdo, I thought. Just grab a few things from when they were little so they can say “Aw!” And throw it out themselves. I did find some cute stuff…

This. It’s actually a little book of quotes from my sisters preschool class a million years ago. This kid is probably a dentist now. I wanna illustrate and publish the thing it’s brilliant. If you ever need a good laugh…

Also from sister. I love it because of her favorite a Bible character. 

And this. This was mine. Yes there’s a story behind his missing face and yes it’s sad af. All you need to know is that he wouldn’t stfu so…I broke his face. Let that be a warning to you all…

I’m kitten about the warning, I’ve never broken another face. And because I’m trying to be all the way I honest I will tell you the sad cliff notes. I was about 5 and my father wanted to get high so he locked me in the room I slept in there and left. You could pop a cassette in the back of that bear and he’d tell you stories. I guess I wasn’t in the mood. 

Anyway even the cute memories sucked. I love my siblings very much and I honestly don’t think I resent them anymore. But it was obvious to me, looking at what my mother had left behind (that’s what this junk was really…she’d been through and taken the things she wanted already) what was important to her. Not like I didn’t know anyway but fuck who needs the reminder? And why me?! Why am I the one with this job of going thru trash for past treasure? Especially given that it looked like I wasn’t a part of this family’s past at all. Other than scary bear I found only a high school journal and a unicorn poster of mine. I didn’t want the stuff anyway but…I know my mother so I know what happened. That hurt, the knowing. 

I decided to toss them all. Things can’t hurt me unless I let em right? But I couldn’t bring myself to touch those boxes again. They touched me though. 

For weeks they sat there poisoning the air, my house, my mind. I couldn’t throw the stuff out but I couldn’t stand it around me either it was awful. So one day, seemingly out of the blue, I flipped my shit. I’m not so great at noticing my own feels especially when they’re old ones. Deep, dark and twisty things I never let myself think about. 

The truth basically. 

So I flipped out and grabbed a box and threw it out the front door. Then another. Then another. Then I kinda crashed into some very confusing tears. And then, now standing in my driveway where the boxes crashed, amongst the mess of my childhood, i found the truth. On the ground it looked like a bunch of sweet memories kept by a mother who loved her babies and couldn’t bare to throw any of their noodle art away. 

That’s not my mom! My mom didn’t even like kids! And she never liked me! She threw all my stuff away. She threw me away. She left. Fuck her.” 

And that’s the truth. I’m sorry…I know it’s not a fun story. But the weird thing is that after my fit and the verbal acknowledgment of who my mother really is (some of it anyway) I felt so much better. 

My wonderful Hub and kiddos helped me officially trash the attic crap then. 

And the air really does feel cleaner. So do I. 

But why the hell did she keep that bear?!



4 thoughts on “Dumped. 

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