I’m grateful for cozy Christmas home tours because they inspire inventive decor ideas and also make me feel like a part of the Season even more. I’m grateful for my car’s annual service checkup going smoothly. I’m grateful to have the mental capacity and financial means to take care of things like this because in the depths of my alcoholism such seemingly basic adult tasks were uphill battles. I’m grateful for a beautiful early run in the park where, as the sun rose, it made the fresh snow on the ground and tree branches glisten like millions of tiny white crystals. I’m grateful for the winter clothing I have that enables me to be outdoors comfortably. I’m grateful for a new antique shop I popped into where I found some cool, old-school arithmetic and comic books. I’m grateful for a meeting focused on how we manage through the Holidays, especially getting to hear the powerful perspectives from newcomers. I’m grateful loneliness is not unique to me, which is also a good reminder to not dwell in self-pity. I’m grateful for Harper’s “Bambi-hop” while we play catch – seeing it is an adrenaline shot of happiness straight to my heart.
I’ve been on a bit of a buying spree recently. Most of it is for stuff to make our new(ish) Denver home comfortable, cozy, and utilitarian. The Holiday Season is also influencing me with the myriad of deals that entice me to splurge more than usual. While I wouldn’t categorize my behavior as a major problem, the spike in expenditure is nudging me to take a few beats to ask “Why?”.
The initial fleshed-out question that comes to mind is what purpose does buying stuff serve? Some of it is truly necessary to make our home better: boxes to hide the chaotic wires, entryway hooks for our winter coats, lamps to improve dimly lit areas. Some of it is blatant splurging: artwork for already well-covered walls, another armchair in the office, another vintage book to add to my side table collection. Both purchase categories for me fit into the bucket of “self-care”, which was such a foreign concept for a long while. I don’t think it was ever part of my vernacular except when it came to ensuring my supply of vodka was constant. Towards the end of my drinking, when nobody wanted me in their homes, I was simply moving from apartment to apartment lugging a few drab possessions, mostly worn out clothes and for whatever reason a small office filing cabinet. Due to where I was only a few years ago, I think that’s how I justify my increased spending spree. An investment in stuff is an investment in me like never before.
However AA’s emphasis on regular internal reflection has helped me look at my recent actions more honestly, more like an objective third-party observer. To inhabit that role, I have to start by reminding myself that whatever the potential misstep, valid or not, I must be kind to myself, I must veer away from excessive self-chastising, which is a recurring tendency of mine. After I embrace a gentler mindset, I can search for the root causes of my behavior.
Looking at my past, specifically my drinking, I can safely say my shopping endeavors don’t fall into the addiction bucket. I am not harming my bank account to a noticeable extent. I am not harming those around me. I am not making our home unlivable through hoarding. Yet I do feel slightly on edge because I see my mind making logic leaps like, “If you just purchase that cute little footstool, it’ll make our home all the more complete and therefore you slightly more content”. Without vodka in my system, I recognize the dangers of this thinking and it immediately reminds me of a common AA saying: recovery is an inside job. It’s a catchy turn of phrase that encourages me to look within. When my actions showcase I might be using external people/places/things to derive peace that’s when a mental red flag is raised.
But hold on a second. I can find another justification for my purchases beyond the aforementioned “self-care” rationale. I’ve actually found a new passion: interior design. Not to be braggadocious, but I’ve garnered an aesthetic sensibility that certain people find pleasing based on unsolicited feedback. That said, I have to question when does a passion become an addiction? Am I justifying these purchases by telling myself, “Oh, you’re building your skillset by ordering that footstool”. To a degree I am nurturing a passion, but it can segue into tricky territory. I don’t want to get to the place where I even come close to pushing my boundaries. I recognize I am currently acting on impulses, on those quick dopamine rushes, when emptying my checkout cart.
So after all this rumination and diagnosing what is the solution? I mean ultimately I’ll take me being a lightweight shopaholic over being an expert alcoholic any day of the week. It’s certainly less toxic. As stated earlier, gaining true satisfaction, true healing, is always an inside job. I have to tap frequently into my spiritual connection with my Higher Power to feel whole. I have to practice PAUSE (Postpone Action Until Serenity Enters) before hitting the ‘Complete Purchase’ button. I have to step away from perusing online stores and engage in other, more meaningful activities – attending a meeting, going for a run, focusing on service/volunteer work, utilizing my interior design eye to help somebody else build their home, diversifying my interests/hobbies (painting and knitting rank high at the moment). For now though awareness of the “shopping issue”, reflection on the “shopping issue”, and incremental course corrections are what seem necessary. Should I start spending to the detriment of my credit, feel like I’m becoming a storage facility, or creating a less comfortable home environment then the real intervention may need to happen.
Frankly the fact that I can do the above analysis is a miracle. During my alcoholism I operated purely on instinct. Whatever felt right that instant, whatever would get me the quick resolution, I’d do it and maybe deal with the consequences down the road. There is much more deliberation now. It’s a testament to absorbing what I’ve learnt in AA and translating it into thoughtful action. That action is shifting my focus on developing a strong spiritual backbone to attain true, lasting peace. Because of this change I know, at least for today, I’ll shy away from purchasing that cute little footstool.
