In a life where the refrain is always “more, more, more...”

...I am trying to figure out how to be comfortable saying, “I’m good, thanks.”

Disclaimer: I know everything I’m about to write about today comes from A LOT of privilege. Some I’ve worked for, but I recognize that a great deal of it is due to the circumstances I was born into. This experience will not reflect everyone’s reality, but perhaps it will reflect the reality for some.

When I was a kid, I remember the first year I was taught to make a wishlist for Christmas. I’m pretty sure I went through the Toys R Us catalog, if that’s any indication of the year. I remember taking the time to build a massive table in Microsoft Word. It was a labor of love that required far too many hours, and it was at least three pages long. From that time on—I think it must have been middle school—I built wishlists. And I don’t just mean for Christmas. I maintained them year round for my own reference. It helped me prioritize and budget.

But even more than that, it made me realize I had such a focus on affording my wants. When my allowance was small, I could pretty much only buy myself one thing every few months. And that “thing” was absolutely always a video game. I memorized the common prices for video games, calculated the tax at each price point, wrote them all down on a sticky note, and pressed it against my wall in my room. That sticky note dictated most of my life goals, if I’m perfectly honest.

Basically, all my life, I’ve been a creature of want and of wants just out of reach. When I wrote wishlists, there were certain items I yearned for, certain items I prayed to receive for Christmas because if I didn’t, I had no idea when I would be able to afford then.

I am fortunate that post-college, I immediately accepted a job offer in the field I majored in and now make a solid living. It’s been a weird transition, going form saving for years for half of a Nintendo Wii to buying a Nintendo Switch on little more than a whim. For years, I built wishlists, prioritized the items contained within, and systematically bought each one.

And yet, the creature of want inside me still yawns wide, waiting for a next meal.

To a certain extent, I’ve viewed my shopping lists and wishlists as sorts of goals to be achieved, tasks to be accomplished. And as I do with all my goals, I’m fueled by an intense desire to achieve them. So whenever I solved one problem, I would look for the next one to solve.

And then, sometime in the last year, I kind of…ran out.

Less than five years ago, I stared at my wishlist in near tears, trying to figure out how to afford new curtains and new pillows. And now, I press 'buy' on a cute new mug when I already have more than a cabinet can hold. When I went to build a wishlist this last year, knowing my parents like having a variety of items at my birthday/Christmas so that what they gift me with is still a surprise, I stressed because I couldn’t make the list long enough. There was very little else I wanted.

For whatever reason, this realization sent me into free fall. Like someone had just pulled out the rug from under me. I had never considered myself that much of a material person. Half my home is furnished by Target and the other half by the less-expensive side of Wayfair. I’ve never been picky about name brand. So being thrown by not wanting to buy things was completely unexpected. I had never prepared myself for such a feeling; had never thought I’d end up in a place with such a feeling.

Aren’t human beings creatures of want? Chasing after the next big thing? I listen to coworkers wax on about digital doorbells with cameras, vacations to resorts in other countries, the new pool they put in, and I just…don’t…care? In the sense that I'm not jealous. In the sense that I don't want that life for myself. And I’m uncomfortable. Because what am I missing? If everyone around me is talking about these topics, then am I missing some integral piece of the human experience? Did I miss a memo that was supposed to arrive?

However, I don’t think this is human nature. I think, instead, its a culture of consumerism, one I’ve felt growing up specifically in America, though it’s possible a similar culture pervades in other countries.

Now I say this with only my own personal experience to back it up. I don’t have statistics or facts to back up this personal experience. Though I know I’ve heard others reference a similar experience before (again, to be fair, I don’t have specifics; just memories of anecdotes which are potentially fallible). But it’s been interesting and uncomfortable to be subject to such an experience and become very aware of the experience over the last year.

Certainly I believe this feeling was strongly brought on by the need to quarantine during the current global pandemic. When you’re stuck sitting home, eventually you ache for some way to be productive. My solution was to buy things I needed. Or wanted. If I can’t do anything else, I might as well make that wishlist shorter. The weirdest part was ultimately running out of things I wanted to buy. At least things I wanted badly enough that it was worth spending the money.

That was the first time I recognized just how hungry consumerism could be.

Like I said, it was like the floor dropped out beneath me. Like I had been set adrift in space and someone had cut my tether. Where was my solid ground? Aren’t I supposed to want something? But I would look around my home and think, where is the hole? And there wasn’t one. I had bookshelves full of books to read that I actually wanted to read. Video games downloaded onto my Nintendo Switch that I actually wanted to play. My home decorated exactly how I had always dreamed it would be. A closet full of clothes that I loved. I had enough.

So why keep wanting?

I still click on the stupid advertising emails that get sent to my inbox on the daily. I think, “That is a cute pair of boots,” though I have multiple pairs for every type of occasion. I think, “That’s a comfy looking dress,” when I wear maybe one dress a week even though I own maybe 12. Why does this feeling persist?

I have to keep reminding myself that buying things isn’t “progress.” The things that I buy might lead me to progress but the things themselves are not the progress.

There are so many ways we see this play out in our society. Think of a time you paid for a gym membership at a gym you never visited. Think when you bought the book everyone was talking about only to leave it unopened and collecting dust on your nightstand. We buy things for the person we want to be and then think that is the same thing as being that person.

In a world where the things we buy are regularly growing cheaper and less sustainable, the issue of obsessive consumerism is given greater opportunity to thrive, since we have to keep buying new things to replace the old. Not to mention that when it comes to the topic of entertainment, we constantly want to be part of the cultural conversation, rather than risking missing out. Regardless of whether or not such things reflect who we really are.

So what’s the solution? Honestly…you tell me. This is a journey I’m still on. I’m browsing shopping websites less often. I’m focussing my time on writing and reading and playing video games, enjoying the things I already purchased before purchasing yet more. Pre-pandemic, I spent a lot more time shopping in person, just for something to do, and since I’m not really participating in that activity at the moment, that helps as well.

At the end of the day, I guess my current thought is…question the culture. Question the desire to buy something. Will it actually make your life better? Or will it just make you perceive your life to be better? And do you actually want the thing in the first place or do you just want to “keep up with the Joneses?”

Again, I recognize this comes from a place of extreme privilege. There are so many people in the world who wish for this problem. Which makes it so much harder for me to think about this topic. But I also think that is exactly why this topic is important. Why are we buying things we don’t need—don’t even want—when others don’t have enough? This isn’t meant to be a guilt-trip either. But I do think it’s something worth considering when you’re contemplating want.

Where I am now is being comfortable just…waiting. Just because there’s a dollar in my paycheck doesn’t mean it needs to be budgeted. Maybe I don’t spend it because there’s nothing I want. Maybe that means I’m able to save a little more for the future or maybe that means I can donate more to someone who needs it more than I do. It’s a strange, almost unsettling feeling, because it’s not a goal to achieve then but a jar to fill—and getting to the brim of the jar isn’t the goal.

I want the yawning chasm of want to close inside me. I need to learn that buying something isn’t the same thing as gaining value in my life. That there is actually no correlation between the two ideas. The little kid inside me who couldn’t imagine holding a $20 bill doesn’t need to rule my life now. She has what she needs.

There are more important things.