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I don’t know what it is, but ever since I found out I’m losing my job AND it was Christmas time, there has been this tension between spending money on sales and not spending money at all, and it’s turned me into a shopaholic for sales. I’ve always been a sucker for sales, ever since my family didn’t grow up with much and we always looked for sales to save a few bucks on what we needed. I was shopping for groceries at Dollar Tree when my husband found me, and he teases me about it to this day. Meanwhile I spent $15 on a pair of brand new jeans at the mall but kept the receipt in case we need to return them. I have enough pants (even though I don’t have jeans) to last me a while. I have shoes enough to last me through several years. I don’t know where they all came from! As I’m decluttering, I’m finding tea and snacks and crackers that I found essential to everyday living for bargain prices, but I haven’t used them yet. Now is my chance to use them! I have a whole fabric bin full of drink mostly teas waiting to be brewed. 

I am overwhelmed and asking myself where did it come from? Was it the ads that I kept seeing on Facebook? I literally don’t want to buy anymore, but every third item I see on my feed is an ad, and I click on every fifth or so ad even though I know it’s probably not my size for that price and probably not decent quality and I’m right and it just wastes my time and reaffirms the algorithm. Was it losing everything that brought the fear back of losing everything again, and that’s why I’m making sure to hoard, so I have as much to live on for as long as possible in case we need it? Is that why I’m so adamant we use up all the grocery sales at Target and Aldi even though our mini fridge and regular fridge are full? I want to buy, buy, BUY, but we really don’t HAVE to buy very much.

The more I think of spending, the higher my anxiety gets. I know it’s my fault we need to cut back on spending. I’m the one without a job. I’m the one making no income. I have no way to make income, and nothing, including this blog, will help with that. I’m screaming into the void, and the void is no longer listening fast enough for my ego. It’s no longer my therapy. That’s why I’m waiting longer and longer for each and every piece. Nothing is good enough. Nothing seems worthy enough to say or long enough to make into a full blog post. I’m worried I’m not good enough. I thought by helping other people by telling what I was going through, that I could make a difference. I don’t feel like I’m making a difference. I don’t feel like I can make a difference. I’m socially awkward enough that I cannot network without major help, and I don’t have that help. My writing won’t just “suddenly be discovered” by someone famous. Writing doesn’t happen like that anymore. I have no witty pictures to illustrate my points and to make people laugh. I just have me.

I hope it’s good enough.

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