Shtopping

I've always had a little shopping problem.  Growing up, we didn't do much shopping, that I can remember, probably because my step-dad cycled in and out of being unemployed for a few years and also we had a lot of child support payments to make.  Shopping wasn't really a kid thing either, that much, in the 70s.  Not like it is now.

I'm pretty sure I had one of these in lavender in the 80s.  Or at least I really wanted one.  And also I wanted parachute pants and clothing from Benetton.  But I remember mostly wearing a turquoise velour turtleneck track suit my gram made.     There were lots of itchy, homemade clothes.

I remember from a really early age being hyper-aware of clothes and name brands and, generally, other people's stuff.  I'm hyper-notice-y about things.  So some part of me was prepared at a cellular level to fully participate in the consumer culture anyway.  Then when I was a teenager we inherited some money and I got to go on a few modest shopping sprees, and it was like a junkie's first encounter with heroin:  I've never forgotten the rush, and have chased after it ever since.  The promise of getting to be a new person with each trip to the mall or each package in the mail is pretty enticing, especially if you're kind of unhappy anyway.  And you can make it happen any time you want.

There were credit cards in college and student loans in grad school, but I always worked and we just kept climbing the professional ladder, E. and me, and so the lifestyle inflation never seemed like that big a deal.  I'm not a hoarder and we're not dealing with mountains of debt.  We drive crappy cars and live in a pretty modest house.  I've never bought a $300 designer bag.  So:  perspective.

'member these?

But I still spent more than I wanted, and often hid spending, and we've never saved as much as we should, either.  In the background was always the awareness that I was using the shopping for something, that it was helping me to avoid or check out or breathe.  And there are better ways of breathing, I've found.

E. was unemployed most all of last year and now is working in a trade, for an hourly wage.  He comes home happy, unlike the years when he was an engineer and seemed to have a dark cloud over his head everyday.  We're grateful.  We feel pretty peaceful.  A little freaked out, but peaceful.  We're happier than we've ever been, by many measures, even though I had several months while he was unemployed when I was terrified and very, very unhappy about being forced to transition out of the lifestyle I thought I had to have.

Just:  What.  What can be said.

I think we're largely over that hump.  We have a budget.  We've cut back on a lot.

Except:  sigh.

Except:  the clothes.

Once E. started working again, I started shopping again, at the pre-unemployment level, sadly.  We don't have the money for me to do this, and there is an increasingly large part of me that doesn't even want to do it anymore.  It's like a boring old habit where I just do it and am starting to notice myself doing it and not even feeling so much shame or embarrassment or anger but just fatigue.  Like:  let's get on with it already.  Like, I order things and then return them.  Which is time consuming and stupid.  And I'm over it.

Well, I feel some shame and embarrassment.  It's scary making this whole thing public, to all of you.  Now you see this about me, and also now I'm accountable for what I'm about to do.

Yazzle.

Still, this is what's going through my head, so I put it here, on the blog.  Plus, there's so many other reasons not to spend time shopping, besides expense.  Like:  I don't like it. I want to spend my time doing other stuff.  It's keeping me from feeling some good, important, feely-feelings.  It puts distance between me and other people because I just focus on things.  It keeps me from being myself sometimes, in a weird way.  The clothing industry is super polluting.  Advertisements suck.  Marketing is manipulative.

The list of greatest hits is long.

I'm a black and white person, and all-or-nothinger.  Examples:  I learned a ton about my body by ditching a nine-year vegetarian streak and going totally paleo for three weeks; I picked up Crossfit after being told I was never going to run again by a doctor; I've been letting my gray hair grow in, day by day, cold turkey, which has taught me all sorts of things about myself and how I feel in the world, and how I think about beauty; I moved back to the hometown I swore I'd never return to, and my soul just lit up like a Christmas tree over it.

And now I'm going to try not shopping.  My old friend, my old crutch, my albatross:  I salute you.

Now git.

For three months.

Which freaks me out.

But I'm gonna do it.

Here we go.