How I Won the Fight With my Parents About Composting
I was so annoying they eventually said yes.
Three months ago I was living in a small town in Australia. I bought my fruit and vegetables directly from a farmer. I surfed a few times a week and walked to the café I worked at. I meditated on the beach and swam in the ocean. I slept on a mattress on the floor in an empty guest bedroom and lived out of a secondhand backpack. I spent more time outside in 2020 than I had in my entire adult life.
If you want to punch me after reading that, I don’t blame you. COVID-19 was basically non-existent where I was living.
I was planning on staying down under for another year.
Then I found out my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer.
I know what you’re thinking; it’s probably the same thing I was thinking:
Oh, fuck.
Everything changed.
I arrived home right as Winnipeg went into a code red lockdown. I was flung into figuring out how to live with my parents again. None of us could see anyone or do anything other than getting groceries. My parents quickly got to know this new side of me that hated plastic and missed the ocean.
We were not prepared for this.
From the moment I bought the plane ticket, I accepted that I would have to relinquish control in a lot of areas of my life. It was part of the deal. Resisting it would just make it harder, but knowing this didn’t make it any easier.
The existential-crisis-eco-anxiety-struggle-bus eventually hit me. Hard.
COVID-19 took away a whole year of my plans and I found myself in the house I grew up in wondering what the hell to do. I was grateful and lost at the same damn time.
I did what any sane person would do:
I looked for something I could grab onto that would give me a sense of agency.
When I opened my parent’s fridge for the first time after my 14 day quarantine, I saw all the leftovers and food wrapped in plastic and it hit me.
Composting, baby.
As soon as I brought it up, they rattled off all the reasons it was off the table: it’ll smell, it’s inconvenient, it doesn’t really make a difference, it’ll attract pests, it’ll be too much work, and my personal favourite, it’s our house and we don’t want to fucking compost.
They definitely thought the last one would be a conversation killer.
It wasn’t.
I had a respectful debate with my dad about the science and logic of composting. I explained to my mom how it wasn’t any different than a garbage can. Every time they said they’d think about it, they expected me to leave it alone.
There was clearly no way they’d consider getting a compost bin, which forced me to get creative.
Never underestimate a modern millennial hippie (mippie?) trapped indoors with too much time on their hands, an overabundance of energy and a backlog of frustration.
I sent my parents information about a local industrial composting program. I said I would pay for if they got on board. They eventually agreed. When I finally reached out, the person I spoke to explained that my address is outside their pickup catchment. They’re a social enterprise, so it’s hard to get frustrated with them because they’re doing their best.
Still…a dead end.
I almost gave up and collapsed into a pile of soft plastic to cry. Even Google wasn’t helpful!
Then my friend Sam told me about a ‘Journey to Zero Waste’ Facebook group she thought I might be interested in. I joined it, and immediately posted my question:
I received tons of comments, and someone mentioned ShareWaste. I made an account, reached out to someone nearby and found a place to drop off our compost. I felt hopeful…for a minute.
My mom got annoyed because we had no bucket with a lid, but also because I had finally found a way around all her objections. I understood where she was coming from — she already had way too much to worry about.
I reminded her that this was my version of a puppy and I would take care of myself and she didn’t need to participate.
Eventually, we looked at each other and started laughing at how insufferable I had become.
She went downstairs and found a Christmas tin with a lid for the compost. Under her orders, it would stay in the basement. She found an under-utilized silver asparagus serving tray for our organic waste during the day. I didn’t even know we owned something just for serving asparagus, but full points to my mom for repurposing it to make our compost a bit classier.
Did it take over two months to get my family’s organic waste into a compost bin?
Yes.
Was it way harder than it needed to be?
Yes. But that’s on-brand for me.
Am I over the top?
Yes. But only if I think it’s for a good cause.
Was it worth the fight and frustration to reclaim control over this one tiny positive thing?
Oh heck ya.
I won over my change-resistant parents by being persuasive, understanding and incredibly annoying. If (when) you get resistance, let your parents maintain control over the parts that matter to them. Explain why composting — or whatever it is — matters to you. If you need a last-ditch approach, remind them the world is burning and you need a win.
