While I was wandering aimlessly around a store a couple of years ago, I asked myself a question. What am I doing here?
The answer came to me immediately. I was trying to by a solution to my problems.
A searchlight lit up my life. Suddenly, my compulsive shopping patterns made sense.
I can always tell how my emotions are doing by observing the flow of goods in and out of my house. If I am discarding, selling, or giving away things, I am on the way up. If I am acquiring new stuff or buying stuff for others, I am trying to stave off a depression.
The marketing mavens spend millions to convince us that social isolation can be fended off by the right deodorant. Marriages can be mended by the right vehicle. Divorcing mates can gain the moral and financial high ground by getting the right lawyer. Depression hurts, but, with the right pharmaceutical, I don’t have to.
No doubt some of that marketing propaganda filtered into my subconscious. But the root of the problem goes back further than that.
In my family of origin, one of the keys to Paradise was the uncontrolled shopping spree. When money came in, it had to be spent pronto. The bills could wait. After a brief, euphoric “fix”, the cold wind of reality would sweep in, bringing dark recriminations with it. For a long time, I thought the problem was that there wasn’t enough money. Money was obviously the key to happiness. And yet, there was something sinister about it, because its availability had the power to unleash compulsive behavior which often increased the debt load.
My emotional response to spending is still governed by those early experiences. I preach NEEDS BEFORE GREEDS, and I generally practise it. But the fact is, I feel guilty when I spend money responsibly on necessities. I feel that I am being wasteful and self-indulgent, even if it’s toilet paper on sale. The FIX is in buying stuff I don’t need with money I don’t have.
Money can provide an answer to many problems. If a light bulb burns out, I can get a replacement at the store. But it’s going to take something more than buying a new casserole dish to bring peace and harmony to my home.
As a society, we tend to think that every problem can be solved by throwing money at it. But that’s an illusion too. A donation without heart may provide a temporary guilt fix, but the acid test is how that money is used. Many do-good projects do more harm than good.
I have consciously given up recreational shopping. This cuts me off from one of my primary mood elevators, which means that I have to work harder at confronting the things that are bothering me. At the same time, it saves me from the guilt of credit card hang-overs. It also frees up some time to write articles about compulsive spending.
Money can empower, or it can destroy. More stuff is never the answer to emotional issues. Relying on shopping to feel better is no different from any other addiction which lures us on with mirages of satisfaction, but never delivers on its promises. Instead, it demands more and greater sacrifices, until we are banrupt materially, emotionally, and spiritually. Is it worth going there?
