Just a Spoonful of Peanut Butter
let out a deep sigh as I looked in the fogged up mirror with a smile. My wet hair touches my back and towel wrapped around my body. In a couple more days it’ll be Christmas; meaning I’ve lived another 10 years of joyful holiday spirit. I walk out from my bathroom into my connected master bedroom. My curtains are open; giving light to my green plants hanging from the ceiling. My cat hogs the space on the bed where the sun warms the most, and like any sane individual I touch his little toe beans as I pass by. He gives out a loud purr and stretches like if there’s no tomorrow. I let out a giggle. When I suddenly stop in my tracks.
**********
I don’t think I can count how many days I’ve been under the covers. My coworkers remind me that it’s just seasonal depression and I should stop calling out for something so silly. They may be right but nothing beats laying in bed thinking about the same thoughts over and over again. The calendar on the wall still marks December 15. I think it may be around Christmas by now. But there’s nothing festive about this room. The curtains are draped around the window blocking off any possible sunlight from coming in. The mountain of clothes on the desk that I promised I would fold down. The half empty water bottles on the shelf. And as the days have passed it seems as if this room has closed in on me.
As funny as it seems I don’t remember this room ever getting this bad. I mean I’ve had my moments, I admit. But something at this level seems very out of place to me. In a corner of the room I can hear the vinyl scratching to fill the background noise. Besides the vinyl, it’s only me shuffling under the covers to find the perfect spot. But there’s no
more good spots. My body aches from the minimal movement these past couple days or weeks, I’m not sure.
I decide to get up and use the restroom, maybe get a spoonful of peanut butter to help me last a couple more hours. I walk out to the kitchen and I see my mother eating her breakfast by herself, while her phone on the table softly plays Christmas music.
She’s a very tall woman, but today she looks so small. She sees me weakly walking past the table where she’s sitting and she manages to give me the warmest smile. Warmer than what any blanket could ever give me. She asks me how I’m doing and if I’d like a plate.”No,” I respond coldly, because I’m stupid. But that’s not how I wanted to respond. I wanted to leap into her arms and cry until I had no more tears. I wanted her to hug me and tell me everything was going to be okay. I wanted her to fix me a plate. But what I most wanted was to be able to sit next to her again and laugh like we used to.
Her smile went away and she began to eat her food again with her head down. If only I could have responded in the way I wanted to. But that was too late now. I grab a spoonful of peanut butter and eat it on the way to the room, well my room. I toss the spoon in a cup that was on the ground. And I hide under the blankets once again.
Hiding from my surroundings and hiding from my reality.
An hour may have passed because my mother was dressed up and her long hair was still wet from the shower. She knocked on the door but she had already opened it all the way. She asked if I wanted to drive around with her because the streets would be empty since it was Christmas. I stayed still; faking a nap. She gently closed the door and went out.
My heart sank. I could physically feel it breaking. Once again I was the reason for creating more problems for myself. My mind began to race on it’s own.
Your room is a mess. When was the last time you washed your hair? The clothes. I’m hungry. It’s cold outside. Red and green. I need to clean. My mom. I’m sorry. The water bottles.The vinyl. My blanket is warm. An omelette sounds good. Christmas? I apologized. Family. I said I was sorry. Together. Please come back. Holiday cheer. I’m begging. Big feast. Mom.
I began to sob, my head was in circles. I’ve never felt so alone. I clenched onto my dirty hair and my knees hit my chest. If I was this close to myself maybe it wouldn’t feel so lonely, I’m like this every year, I should be used to it by now. But somehow I always find a way to mess things up. The tears won’t stop coming down either. I don’t want to be alone this Christmas. I want to be with my mom. I want to eat lots of food. But that was lost for today, for the year.
I was gasping for air thinking about other families preparing the tables in their fine plates. Anxiously waiting for their family members to arrive through the door. Why was I not allowed to have that? What did I do wrong?
Looking down to my feet with my body clenched tight on the ground, I remembered what I had done wrong. This whole month I’ve been nothing but rude. Hiding away in my room for no reason at all. Well I’m sure it was for a reason but I had forgotten it all along. I had clung to a sentiment that no longer mattered. What really mattered was being able to spend the day with my mom, feast or not.
My body began to loosen up, I stopped clinging so close. I took a deep breath and looked around at my nightmare. I got up slowly as I was dizzy from the lack of food and panic attack. I decided to take a shower. As much as taking one is a drag for me sometimes, I always feel pretty after I get out. I strip down slowly and throw my clothes in the laundry basket. I slip into the shower and turn the water on towards the hot side. And let myself get wet while I lathered up the soap.
Once I got out of the shower I felt like a new person. I was motivated to do something about that dumpster of a room. I quickly changed into a new pair of pjs and combed out my hair that was filled with knots.
For someone like me this was a big progress towards a new me. But if I thought about it too hard this was something simple that everyone does. Most people don’t let themselves get this bad. Nevertheless, I came into my room and started throwing away all the trash into a bag. Then I began to fold the clothes on the desk, and made the bed. I stopped the poor overplayed vinyl, and instead played music off of my almost dead phone.
In the middle of cleaning, I heard the front door open. I took a peek out my door and saw it was my mom with grocery bags. She may have seen me peeking because she walked over to my room and saw that it was in the process of being cleaned.
With the grocery bags in her hands she warmly said “Are you ready to eat now?”.
With tears coming down my eyes I walked over and gave her a hug. “Yes, ama”.
**********
My cat bit my hand and I was reminded that I wasn’t the person I used to be when I was 20. But I still carry around the guilt like shackles tied to the ground that keep me from moving forward. Calling it guilt sounds so pretentious, I still don’t think I’m 100% ok, but I am definitely doing better. I still hate Christmas, I strongly hate it. My mom and I are still alone but now separated by a couple 1,000 miles. We still don’t have a big family, it’s just us, which is fine with me. But I’ve moved so far from her; almost if I’ve run away from my past. Dodging every corner that reminds me of who I can be if I ever don’t keep busy.
But this Christmas I won’t run away. I’m getting ready for my flight later in the evening, my suitcase is still open so I can place the last few items inside before I leave. My cat has even decided to place some of his toys in my suitcase as well. I haven’t
visited my mom ever since I moved out 8 years ago. I’m nervous, maybe ashamed would be a better word for a situation like this. I’ve never been one to talk much; I haven’t even called her to let her know I’m returning for the holidays.
The cat and I arrived with the suitcase. We rent a car from the airport and make our way south for about an hour until we reach my small hometown. Going down the street to my childhood home seemed to have taken longer than the plane ride. Once we got closer the old house looked empty and dark, not a sign of holiday cheer. I stopped in the driveway and got out of the car slowly. I let my cat come out of the car as well. We stepped very lightly until we reached the door and I almost crawled back into the car.
My legs were trembling, and tears were running down my face. It was all a mistake. I shouldn’t have been here regardless. My mom probably found someone to be with during the holidays since I abandoned her for so many years.
I agonized; sitting on the porch with my cat spread on my feet, deciding if I should stay or not. As I’m getting up ready to leave, a car I don’t recognize pulls up to the driveway. I start to get worried did she move and not tell me. But out comes a woman who aged much more than I did in those 8 years with watery eyes. Her limp arms reach out towards me for a hug and I run quickly towards her warm embrace. After a while of talking in the cold driveway she invited me in and asked if I was hungry. I laugh through the crying and say “Just a spoonful of peanut butter for now”.