Taking a shopping break.

A little over a year ago, I decided I needed to take a break from shopping. I had in my possession too many possessions, too much of almost everything, really, save money. I’d made shopping into a daily recreation and socialization activity, and justified the relentless consuming by sticking to thrift stores.

It doesn’t count if I buy it used, right?

Unfortunately, thrift purchases take up the same space as ones coming fresh from the mall, and though they cost less, they aren’t free. Thrifting made it easier for the quantities to rise – it’s harder to say no to the thing when it’s only two dollars, but something being a deal doesn’t automatically make it necessary.

As Mom used to say, it’s for sale, not on sale. It’s only a deal if you want and need it.

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I’ve done pretty well with my resolution. I wasn’t perfect, but something I learned in eating disorder recovery: the demand for perfection is often the enemy of done.

I was closer to perfect with cosmetics. I bought a mascara, but that’s it. I didn’t even replace the blush I finally took down to the pan, nor the brow mascara that was finally emptied, leaving me with only one.

Of the clothing items I bought this past year, some were necessities: I needed new slippers, I needed some socks – all the toes seemed to go at once, and I wanted another six-pack of underwear – I threw out several this year on account of absent elastic, and the lower numbers were making me a touch anxious.

I also picked up some wants, though all from thrifting, so there’s that: a Columbia jacket for two dollars that was too good a deal to pass up, especially now that I’ve a dog to walk; four long-sleeved tees, and four pairs of leggings – two were new Adidas, four dollars each, what a steal; and some bits of furniture.

Most of the shopping took place in the last few months. Things got stressful, and old behaviours beckon when times get hard. As it turns out, my self-care-in-times-of-stress game is still weak.

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Change would be easier if it were easy.

It was hard to stop wanting to shop that first month, and the low-grade, insta-want that happens when we see shiny, new things when we’re out took even longer to fade, but, low-grade relapse these past weeks notwithstanding, eventually, shopping stopped popping into my head as a recreational go-to.

I shop for needs, not wants, excepting cool toys for the puppy. I may have too much stuff, but doggies need treats, right?

It’s harder for me to buy things now, especially if they’re new. I’m too aware of my lack of need. I’m also out of the habit of parting with cash for clothes, and I find I’ve come to resent it when I have to. I need new winter boots this year – I don’t have any – but I’m irked by the requirement. Would that I lived where fall and winter weren’t six months of wet and snow.

I’d like to be out of the habit of parting with cash at all, but I’m still too purchase-y with non-essentials. Perhaps that can be my new challenge. Less buying at all. That Anchor Hocking nested bowls set isn’t a deal if you don’t need it.

More than surplus clothing feels heavy around my house these days. I suddenly feel bursting at the seams. True, more people are living here, but it’s my largesse getting on my nerves, not theirs.

What to get rid of next?

Technically, the year of no-shopping has ended. I could, if I wanted, go nuts. I could hit the stores and fill both boots and the cart. I won’t, however, because not buying clothing and cosmetics has made some changes to who I am. I don’t want to go shopping for those things. That’s not who I am anymore. I’m doing clothes and appearance differently post-fast.

I thought about my body less when I wasn’t constantly looking at ways to adorn it. It was nice not having it always on my mind.

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I didn’t spend much time this past year thinning the possession herd. My plan was to wear all that I owned instead of acquiring new. Shopping at home, and all that. The best laid plans, however, often go awry. Some things got a bit more in the way of rotation, but I mostly stuck to the tried, true, and liked.

I learned which bits of clothing I’m probably never going to wear, for all that they’re in great shape, look good, and were a steal. I was too susceptible to the label. Luckily, autumn has arrived. Who doesn’t love a good fall clean-up?

Historically, I’ve struggled with letting go of my things. My stuff is my safety and stability, to a certain extent. My possessions are a bit of an emotional security blanket. You don’t want to be around me when something that ought to be there goes missing.

I didn’t have much stuff as a kid. I spent a large chunk of my childhood poor. Being poor leaves a mark. Having surplus felt safe. That’s no longer true.

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There is a limit to how many sweaters one needs. There is a limit to how many casseroles. We can have too much, not that you’d know it from commercials and increasing market segmentation.

I can be tempted by the shiny and new. I’m also a bit of a slave to the “good deal.” Are you really leaving those BCBG shoes, that Breville coffee maker, that Prada bag? Shouldn’t needs and wants be set aside if the acquisition is higher-end and costs someone a pretty penny?

That’s the kind of mindset that sees you with eight The Sak bags. I don’t even really love them anymore. But they were expensive for someone once, and I got them in mint condition for cheap. Does it matter that I’m not using the spiralizer? Does it matter that I don’t wear the shoes?

Yes.

I used to think it didn’t. I used to think that as long as I had space, it was okay. The year of less buying brought home to me how heavy ownership sits. The year of fewer acquisitions made me realize how overwhelmed I am by my things much of the time. You don’t constantly reorganize and change things that satisfy, even if the process is enjoyable.

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Getting used to the new.

We change and we grow. What served us once also changes with time. This is the case, I think, with my impressive supply of things. When it comes to practical products, there is much redundancy in my house. What, three full sets of cookware is too much? You don’t have two sets of glassware? You don’t have four sets of measuring cups? What are you doing with your time?

I accumulate the impractical as well, though there, I lead with my gut. Too bad my gut doesn’t desire things that appreciate in value. Alas, my gut prefers Funkos to Faberges.

I took my feelings of safety and my sense of self from the things I surrounded myself. Who are you? I am the girl with books. I am the girl who collects stuffed animals and plants. I am what I have and do, and what I can bring to the table.

Valuing ourselves this way is precarious – we’re then only as good as our externalities allow. We have intrinsic worth that isn’t impacted by how many pairs of Levi’s sit folded in the closet.

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As I have stabilized in my recovery from my eating disorder, my sense of self has started to migrate home. I no longer decide my mood based on clothing size. I think about myself less overall. I don’t mind being less self-centred. Gives me more time to vent ire at politicians.

Shopping became less imperative when I became less frantic in my need to present a tolerable version of myself at all times. Recovery coinciding with menopause is a nice touch – it added an extra dollop of, “I just don’t care.” I feel less defensive in my posture in recovery, more at ease with myself and my place in the world.

With ease came a relaxing of the defenses. I no longer need so much in the way of battlements. I think this is why the items that live in the world beyond the closets are also starting to overwhelm. They used to feel like safety, but of late, they feel more like an anchor.

I’m ready to let go of the bits and pieces of externalized security, step by step, room by room. It’s not the stuff that brings safety and security; it’s the self, though it took some time for my brain to get there. Many things in life are a process.

How’s your closet looking?

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No More Non-Essential Shopping

My Shopping Fast – an update

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