I had a strong emotional tie to a trash can. Not just any trash can, a trash can Greg and I picked out together as we were refreshing the kitchen.
This trash can was gorgeous.
See what I mean? Rose gold, one side for trash, one side for recycles. It went perfectly with our decor and fit in the space we had as if it were custom made.
We sat snuggled up on the sofa looking at trash cans and other items for our kitchen. Our kitchen was very important to us- I spent a lot of time there because with my food allergies and with Greg needing to eat healthier after his stroke, we wanted to make our kitchen the best kitchen we could.
So fast forward to May 2022 as I was packing for my move to California after Greg’s death 6 months earlier, that trash can was coming with me no matter what. Something in me would simply not let me leave it behind. There were other things that I held just as dear, and I will likely tell their stories sometime.
When the POD arrived and was unloaded, there was another perfect spot in my apartment for the trash can. I felt a sense of comfort seeing that trash can. And that sense of comfort continued for almost 2 1/2 years…until I realized that it no longer gave me a sense of comfort. In fact, I started feeling like the trash can was not doing what I needed it to do. And I was appalled at that feeling. How could I feel like that? Why did I feel like that?
I tried to just ignore my new feelings towards my trash can. You can guess how that went. I began being more and more frustrated with the trash can. There was no longer a sense of comfort. So, I doubled down on my efforts to ignore my feelings and tried to change how I felt about the trash can. Nope, didn’t work.
As is my practice, I started journaling about my trash can angst. I hope you realize by now that it’s not really about the trash can. I mean it is, but it isn’t…. As I wrote in my journal and started to process everything about this situation, separating the practical from the emotional, I came to realize that the trash can as “just a trash can” wasn’t the kind of trash can I needed. Yes, it fit in the space, but it was too much trash can for one person and one dog, which is what my little family is now. I could never fill a bag up before it started getting smelly. There is no longer any need for a recycle side and if I can’t fill one trash bag before it gets smelly, I certainly didn’t need two trash bags! And that’s another thing, the trash bags were a special size and while I found an inexpensive source for them, that was just “one more thing” I had to keep track of and I really don’t need or want so many things to keep track of.
On the emotional side of things, there was a lot more to it. Obviously. We spent a lot of time together planning and re-doing our kitchen. It was fun, it was important, and it remains a treasured memory. The trash can was the one thing that I could hold onto physically when I moved to California. None of the other things we picked out, purchased and installed could go with me. Greg was the one that handled emptying the trash and recycles. He was always on top of it and I rarely had to ask him to do that. He would take the bags outside and put them in the bins and then come right back in and put new bags in the trash can. I hear a lot of gals fussing about their guys not taking out the trash. It was one of the many ways Greg showed his love. This was starting to make sense.
Grief is many things and one of those things is that grief is….just weird sometimes. It gave me an emotional attachment to a trash can. Once I sorted it all out in my heart and mind, I was able to thank the trash can and bless it and let it go (it was donated). A new, more practical trash can is in place. My memories are safe and sound and I am no longer in an emotional tizzy about the trash can.
