A fearless inventory

In September of this year (2024), I took an unflinching inventory of my clothing and makeup supplies. I had a lot of things to count. When I was done, I was horrified to discover that I seemed to have almost all the stuff. No wonder I felt like I had clutter. I do.

I’ve spent much of my life trying to organize, sort, and store my belongings in a way that makes them seem less stressful. I’d organize shelves and drawers ad nauseum. I’d pack seasonally inappropriate items and store them where they wouldn’t intrude. Out of sight, out of mind, and all that jazz.

Happiness is a Rubbermaid storage bin. Happiness is packing cubes. Happiness is a label maker.

I could never get it quite right, however, regardless of the time I put in. My folding was wrong, or the storage system was off, or perhaps I simply had the wrong things, and I needed to go shopping. I couldn’t get comfortable with my possessions, no matter how I tried.

Things got better when I stopped hiding from the truth.

The problem is quantity

My problem wasn’t one of organization; it was one of quantity. There’s too much stuff in my home. I have more clothing, makeup, and assorted paraphernalia than anyone needs. I have more than enough of everything, barring consumables. “Need” has left the building as far as what I own is concerned. Most of my consumption is about feeding wants.

“Want” as a motivation for shopping is all kinds of problematic. The financial considerations are probably the least.

You can’t buy happiness, contentment, or less sadness. Not even with Amazon Prime. Emotional needs are rarely met by Oil of Olay.

Before my possession-inventory and the subsequent “no shopping” plan, I’d have said I was not a big consumer. I’d have said I spent very little on “non-essentials.” I’d have been wrong. Perhaps our problem is definitional.

What exactly is “non-essential” these days when producers advertise new, back-to-school cell phones as necessities? How much is “not much” when it comes to cost? When did we conflate “want” and “need?”

There’s also the problem of entitlement. You deserve it. You’re worth it. Right?

Reduce, reuse, and recycle

We focus on the “recycle” bit of the “reduce, reuse, and recycle” trinity as though putting plastic and paper in blue bins makes us heroes. I think many who watched the Netflix documentary, “Buy Now! The Shopping Conspiracy” were surprised by how pointless much of the recycling we do is. We feel good about ourselves without much cause.

The path from the recycling bin to the garbage dump is often fairly straight. You don’t get islands of plastic waste floating in the ocean by doing things right.

The good feelings the recycling logos generate do lead us to buy more bottles of pop; however, so stamping triangles on plastic is a win for producers. Virtue signalling is a big part of corporate policy these days, but it’s spin, not anything of real value on their part. Corporations are as good as we force them to be, and we’re not pulling very hard on the leashes, of late.

Shopping and saving

I haven’t noticed a massive uptick in my savings account since I stopped buying clothing and makeup. In my defense, I had some larger-than-expected outlays of cash over these last few months. I took a mini-vacation in October, and I had extra costs associated with my heat pump installation. I’ve also been eating out more. If I can’t distract myself with new-to-me sweatshirts, then I guess a Happy Meal will have to do.

There’s always a reason to wave goodbye to the money. Then again, money wasn’t why I stopped shopping for things for myself. My choice was emotional. I thought it might reduce some of the stress I experience around organizing and storing if I knew the tide wouldn’t keep bringing more goods home.

I was correct, though the change wasn’t easy.

Not shopping and not buying things I definitely didn’t need was hard and uncomfortable those first few weeks. I discovered I’d been using shopping as a time filler in addition to using it as an emotional crutch. I suddenly had extra hours in the week: too much space in my schedule makes me twitchy in a way I’d normally fix at the thrift or dollar store.

God forbid I leave space for thinking. I like my thoughts and emotions buried beneath maladaptive coping skills, please and thanks.

If I were to do this again, I’d plan for that period of shopping withdrawal. I forgot that resisting significant lifestyle changes is how we roll. Even when it looks good, we resist the new.

Freedom is not shopping

Despite some initial internal resistance, you will adapt. The sense of being uncomfortable passes, and you start feeling a little bit chuffed by your success. Look at you, all free from the demands of consumer-based capitalism.

I got quite used to not buying personal things for myself. I’ve even come to like it. I’m at the point where it feels a little uncomfortable to consider acquiring something permanent for myself. “You don’t need that,” is my brain’s automatic response as I cruise through the shops. I notice a paucity of quality more these days, as well, now that I’m taking a beat before buying.

It’s surprising how quickly the formerly influential “It’s so cute” designation became irrelevant to my brain. It’s surprising how quickly I dropped “But you deserve it” from my inner dialogue. Realizing that happiness really doesn’t come from the store is a bit of a relief. I should’ve attended more close to Dr. Seuss’s Grinch lessons.

I feel better about my days now that they involve less shopping. I feel freer. Who really enjoys the shops, anyway? The lighting is an exercise in misery, the floors are hard, and happiness is definitely not found in consumer debt. There is a lightness to my step, knowing that I’m not going to be buying today.

I think I might relearn how to sew. I have some time.

You can still buy

I won’t be buying myself any clothing or cosmetics for the foreseeable future, but second-hand furniture is still on the table: my dresser has developed an unfortunate centre sag. I prefer old furniture if I can get it, old enough that it’s made of wood instead of particle board or MDF. My mother was right about furniture. Quality lasts.

I love knowing what I need and don’t need. It’s a rather awful feeling, wandering into a store on spec. I didn’t realize it made me anxious and uncomfortable until I stopped doing it.

The only things on my non-consumables shopping list these days are the aforementioned dresser and perhaps a bed frame. I gave mine away, and I miss having a headboard. That being said, if I win the lotter, I get a hall pass.

What do you need

It’s okay to want things. It’s important, however, to understand the what. Is the shopping trip about needs, wants, socializing, or killing time? What do you want, exactly? What are you hungry for? What do you need?

I ask myself these or similar questions now, when the idea of shopping pops into my head, and mostly, my needs are emotional. You can’t fix grief with a new t-shirt, though it’s tempting to try.

The needs I ignored in favour of a thrift run were varied. I needed comfort. I needed a distraction. I needed an escape that didn’t challenge me mentally. The ‘what’ of my purchases was always less relevant than the activity itself.

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“I need to go shopping,” reminds me of my old eating disorder chant, “I feel fat.” Fat is not a feeling, and shopping isn’t a need unless the food cupboards are bare.

Watch the Netflix special, or other documentaries like it. Many people are worried about how we consume, and their thoughts are out there.

Consider a shopping diet. Once the withdrawal phase ended, I felt great.

Step one of slowing my roll was the possession inventory. You have to know what you’re working with. Most of us have more things than we realize. I started with boycotting purchases of everything save consumables, but that’s mostly because I’ve discovered I like the quick, cold plunge.

There are other ways to reduce consumption that aren’t as big a shock to the system as a total ban. More moderate suggestions include making the weekends shopping-free zones, or requiring non-consumable purchases to be primarily done at thrift stores. A family I know has a rule about gifts that has you shopping at home for presents: regifting is all that’s allowed.

What’s you’re favourite way to not shop?

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No more non-essential shopping.

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