The Burden
1/2022
She woke up from her night’s tossing and turning, feeling grumpy, with worry swirling through her head, thoughts leftover from the night before when she went to bed thinking of the mild chaos in her current life. The contractors needed to be paid, the neighbors were complaining again about the sap from tree in her front yard, bills needed to be delt with, and of course, to add to it, it was tax time. Her least favorite season of the year. Her everyday stress and anxiety settled into her stomach as she poured a cup of coffee and did her best to gulp down the hot liquid. No time to sit and enjoy, just have to drink it and go she thought as she made her daughter’s school lunch, put the dishes away, and took the dog out front to do her business. Hopefully the neighbors aren’t up yet. The anxiety that gripped her made daily tasks and routines feel like heavy work and she struggled to get the little things done and move through her day. She wanted to crawl back into bed, but she knew there was no time for that kind of thinking so she set it aside and told herself to buck up.
As she left home to drive her daughter to school, she ran through her day’s tasks hoping to ease the pit of anxious feelings in her diaphragm and chest. As she tried to ease the clenching feelings, she noticed that there was a square of toilet paper stuck to her shoe. They were doing a bathroom remodel in their two-bedroom, one bath house and so the family was forced to use a port-a-potty to do their business. Kinda like the dog, she thought as she scraped her shoe against the rough asphalt driveway, before piling into the driver seat and taking off. The drive to school was short and the heater didn’t have time to warm up the car. Her daughter complained about how cold she was and that her coat was too bunchy, and gave a loud wail in discomfort. The wail was more than her mother could take and anxiety scored a point on her body. Silently her heart squeezed and her palms gripped the steering wheel but she held it in. The wail tightened the anxiety in her chest, but with a deep breath she could remind the little girl that they were almost to school and that she agreed, bunchy coats were the worst.
At school drop off she noticed that the toilet paper was still stuck to her shoe and somehow it looked like it had grown. There were at least 4 squares, all hooked together, and stuck to the middle of her grey athletic shoe. Yuck, she worried, not wanting to pick it up with her hand, but not wanting any of the other parents to notice when she walked her daughter up the steps to her classroom. She settled on kissing her daughter goodbye from the drop-off area and watching her bound up the yellow painted steps toward her classmates and waiting teacher.
OK, she thought with a long slow sigh. Noticing the tightness in her belly creep into her extremities, she took another long slow breath and let it out just as slowly, sensing the discomfort in her arms and legs releasing. As she ran through her checklist for the day, she looked at her watch and was horrified at how late it seemed. She had just enough time to get to the dry cleaners, run to the plumbing supply store, hustle through the grocery store, and be there right in time to grab her daughter from school. As she settled back into her car, she felt a lump on her shoe like something was there, but she didn’t have time to look as she was already driving through the school parking lot. Thoughts of plumbers, money, neighbors and her daughter flooded her mind, and her anxious mind was gripped by not enough time to get everything done before pick up.
Zipping along surface streets lead to a hop on the freeway. As she got up to speed and merged onto the highway, she looked in her rearview mirror and could she a dash of white whipping from behind her car. What was that, she wondered. Glancing forward and then glancing back again she could see it; Was it really? Was that toilet paper? As she exited the freeway she quickly glanced down and there was in fact toilet paper from her shoe going out the driver’s door. How embarrassing, she thought, I hope no one sees it!
When she got out of her car, she came to realize that the toilet paper on her shoe was now close to ten feet long. How dreadful, she worried. With the tip of her toe she scraped the paper up into a wad and gently kicked it along with her. She couldn’t seem to get it off of her running shoe, it must be jammed into the groves of the sturdy tread. The drycleaner pretended not to notice the ball of white paper stuck to her foot. When he observed her fumbling for payment and looking like she was holding back tears he decided to not say anything about it, he wouldn’t want to be the reason a woman began to cry in his shop.
When she got back to her car holding a fist full of shirts on hangers, and now dragging the paper ball behind her, which had somehow grown again, she did have to fight back tears. Still working through her mental list of tasks to complete and things to not forget, exacerbated by the anxiety that held her chest, she sat in her car and allowed two tears to silently fall from her left eye. It wasn’t that she was afraid to cry, she just didn’t have time to let the tears flow. She had to rush to the plumbing store and the grocery store, keep track of all the things she was worrying about, and there just wasn’t time for tears right now.
At the plumbing supply she resigned to the toilet paper. The ball had morphed from the size of a soccer ball to the size of a large couch cushion. She couldn’t hide it and she didn’t have time to deal with it so she scooped up the heap of scratchy, 1-ply paper; clearly the cheap stuff from the port-a-potty, and walked briskly into the store. She did note that despite being port-a-potty paper and having been dragged on the ground, it was still quite clean. As the pillow of thin, fibrous material rubbed against her neck, she cringed at its scratchy feel and marveled at its minimal weight, How could something so light weight be holding her down with such strength? She avoided eye contact with the clerk, connecting only for a moment to inform him she was picking up a special order. She gave her name and when he looked at what she was holding, she quickly turned the other way, pretending to be interested in faucets and shower heads as she tried to tuck the paper pillow out of sight so no one would stare. When he returned, he balanced the two smallish boxes on top of the toilet paper pillow and rested them against her chest so they would not fall. “All set?”, the clerk asked as she leaned back to keep the boxes from slipping. “All set.” She said and briskly exited the store.
The one plus about the quantity of paper that was now in her arms was that she could dab her eyes with it as she walked back to the car. The boxes stayed sandwiched between her hands and chin so they would not fall and she wiped away five tears, two from the left and three from the right eye. The toilet paper gathered the moisture and held it. When she looked at the mass, she couldn’t even see where the tears had gone, they had just absorbed into the puff of scratchy folds. She made a mental note of all the things she was worrying about and added a few more on. Embarrassment in the plumbing store, what if she was late to get her daughter, what if her bathroom didn’t pass the inspection that was set for the next day. As she put the cardboard boxes of plumbing hardware into the car a large wind came up out of nowhere. She looked up at the sky and saw the clouds moving quickly against the beautiful blue day. As she marveled at a cloud that looked like a bunny, or was it a roadrunner? No, definitely a stack of pancakes; a moderate gust came upon her pulling the toilet paper from her arms. The paper stretched out straight with the strength of the wind. With so few cars in the parking lot, the paper stretched out in a line, practically crossing the lot end to end. She marveled for a moment then began gathering up her burden, still stuck at one end to her shoe. She had given up trying to get it off so instead began to gather and wrap the paper around her body. Suddenly the wind changed directions again and the mass of paper wrapped its self around her like a mummy. It was not too tight and she was pleased that the paper was not out where people could notice it.
The last stop before pickup was the grocery store. Before she exited her car, she ran through her mental checklist of things she was worrying about- remodel woes, neighbors, bills, taxes, embarrassment, time management. A quick second to add a few more things on; dishes and vacuuming, was her daughter learning enough math in school, the dog needed to lose five pounds. OK. Ready.
As she entered the store, cart pushing in front of her, she took note of the toilet paper around her body. She hoped that if she didn’t make eye contact or bump into anyone in the grocery store, no one would notice the mass she was carrying. She could feel the paper snake tightening its grip around her ever so slightly; just a snugging around her hips and arms. No problem she thought, I can still get the shopping done and pick up the child on time. It’s not inhibiting my legs from walking around the store after all.
In the cereal aisle she slowed her pace for just a moment to decide between Cherrios, the healthy choice, and Golden Grahams, the box she really wanted. Her anxiety had the habit of stopping her from tending to her own needs and desires, but for a moment she imagined the crunchy sweet squares being crushed by her teeth, and the sensation of the cereal forming a sweet ball of graham cracker goodness in her mouth; imagining for a moment what it might feel like to take care of her own needs and desires. She was pulled from her thoughts when there was a tug on her paper woes. She turned to see a small toddler pulling on the end of the toilet paper. He gave a gentle tug, and before his mother could shoo him away from his pulling, he gave a hard yank, just to see what would happen. Embarrassed and ashamed at the public display, the toilet paper wrapped tighter around her chest and she hurried off, leaving the cereal behind and 3 tears dripping off her nose.
In the vegetable section, an elderly woman placed a hand on her white wrapped shoulder and gave a knowing smile. Both women stared at one another for a few moments, which felt like a lifetime when one was trying to balance carrots and broccoli in one hand an open those silly thin plastic bags in the other. But the smile was somehow comforting and stopped her in her anguished shaking. She stared back at the elderly woman and for a moment no longer felt alone in the burden of her anxiety. For a moment the 1-ply eased a bit on her chest and stomach. She breathed in, and let out a gentle sigh. As the old woman walked on towards the green beans, the toilet paper remained softened in its grips.
As quickly as it happened though, she could hear whispers behind her and turned to see two women making quick glances at her burden. When they had been caught by her, they quickly looked back at the potatoes they were standing beside and she moved on. No time to worry about the gossip of others, it was time to check out. The hardest part of the trip. Standing in line waiting to pay could be an opportunity for someone to see her toilet paper chains and have time to comment on them. Try to give her some quick advice or ask her questions to quell their curiosity. Luckily, she found a line with only three other people waiting. A teenager who just looked at her confused but could care less, and a couple who looked so in love buying ice cream and a frozen pizza that they didn’t even notice her.
When it was her turn to check out, she could feel the toilet paper wrap around her left leg tighter than it had before and she gave a little gasp in pain. The clerk asked if she was ok and she replied, “I’m fine” and looked down trying to find her wallet.
With food bagged she rushed from the store, grateful that the checkout had gone as well as it had. Her leg was in pain now and she moved as quickly as she could to get to her car. As she drove to the school the toilet paper appeared to have wrapped itself around her head, its end draped innocently off her shoulder. She sped up hoping that she could get to school before it wrapped around her eyes making it almost impossible to drive; It was just 1-ply after all.
School pick-up was smooth, she didn’t have to get out of the car and her daughter bounded into the passenger side and up into her car seat. She was young enough that she needed the car seat, but old enough that she could do the buckles on her own. Half way through Kindergarten, her mother marveled, how fast time goes. The drive home was short and the small child regaled the excitement of the day- cupcakes for a birthday party, the line leader position, and the day’s pretend session, squirrel family with her best friend. A good day. Lost in her own world the child hadn’t noticed that her mother looked like a genuine mummy, like from her Halloween costume book.
It wasn’t until they got out of the car that her daughter saw what was happening to her mother. She marveled at the wrappings that had finally covered her mother’s face, leaving a small slot for her eyes to see out of. The daughter asked, “Mom, are you OK? I see you, is something wrong?”. That was all it took. Mother looked at innocent daughter, the first person to ask the question to let the tears fall, and so they did. She began to cry in front of her daughter and could not stop. Standing over her child still buckled into the car seat she cried and cried. Toilet paper caught the tears as they flowed, and the paper on her face became soggy with salinated liquid.
Finally, her daughter was extracted from the seat and quickly went inside while her mother sat on the curb and continued to sob. It felt good to finally let it all out. As the tears fell, she was finally able to let the mental list go and focus on how it felt to cry. Her tears released the anxiety of the bathroom, reminded her that she survived the time management whirlwind and got her child from school on time. The drips off her nose assured her that embarrassment was a valid feeling to have and reminded her that having anxiety was something others suffered from as well. She was not alone in her challenges. As the tears allowed her the space she needed to work through her feelings, her daughter came back and sat beside her. In the child’s hand was her comfort blanket, the special cozy knit by the child’s grandmother; tattered and well-loved from years of comforting the child through scary shadows at bedtime and scrapped knees while learning to ride a bike. As she sat by her mother, the child draped the blanket over her mother’s lap and placed a hand on her sagged shoulder. Gently she began to hum a lullaby and patiently sat with her mom, just as her mom had sat with her.
The empathy shown by her daughter, as mother and child connected in love, loosened the wraps and 1-ply began to shrink in length. As the mother released her feelings of isolation and focused on the connection with her child, the scratchy wraps released from her face and the child could see the red splotchy cheeks and eyes of her mother. “I love you Mom, do you want my bunny to snuggle?” Hearing the daughter’s words were another release for the mother and she felt the toilet paper shrink again, back to the four squares stuck to the bottom of her shoe. She looked at her daughter and smiled. They stood up, hand in hand, and walked towards the house and the fuzzy, stuffed bunny. She looked down at her sweet child in amazement and gratitude and scrapped her shoe against the driveway once more. This time the toilet paper stuck to the asphalt and stayed there, finally the burden removed from her being. As a light wind caught a tree and blew toward mother and child, it picked up the remaining paper burden and blew it away for the day.
