What Are You Really Shopping For?

I'm a consumer. I've been a consumer my entire adult life.

And by consumer, I mean someone who acquires things she could otherwise live without. I'm not talking about food, gas, a toaster, or basic toiletries. I'm talking about life-enhancement items: more clothes and makeup than I genuinely need; journal supplies that go well beyond a journal and a pen (think thousands of stickers, a variety of pens and inks, washi tape, markers, and random accessories); and coloring markers and books that I know, deep down, I'll probably never use.

I'm hesitant to say I'm flirting with a shopping addiction because addiction is a serious matter, and I don't want to casually label my behavior. I think I'd classify myself as having a mild online shopping compulsion.

And before you come for me, I am fully aware of the problems with consumerism. I know there are plenty of reasons to question the things I buy and the ease with which I buy them. But like I said... compulsion. And in my defense, about 25% of the items I buy are birthday or Christmas gifts and cards.

Lately, it's become more prevalent. And I think I know why.

1. The combination of social media's algorithmically driven advertising and my iPhone.

2. The most disposable income I've ever had in my life.

3. Apple Pay making it disturbingly easy to buy something from my couch.

4. Amazon making it even easier.

5. A full-blown rebellion against the fact that I don't get to retire just yet and still have to work full-time.

That last one might be more important than I want to admit.

The Joy of Buying Something You Didn't Know Existed

I've noticed a pattern emerging.

I'm on my phone during morning coffee. I play my games, check Instagram for updates on my grandsons, and then head over to TikTok. There, I'm greeted by a steady stream of ads that seem to have been created specifically for me, showcasing all the things I never knew I needed to own. And conveniently, most of them cost somewhere between $10 and $50.

I think, I love that. I'd totally use that. I can afford it, and I deserve it.

Eff it. I'm getting it.

Then I track the package. I experience an unreasonable level of joy when it arrives. I love unboxing it, especially when the packaging is pretty. I explore the item, find a home for it in my house, and eventually put it away.

And more often than not, that's the end of the story.

To be fair, sometimes I buy something I genuinely love. Something I use every day, wear on rotation, or recommend to anyone who will listen. But therein lies part of the danger: the possibility that the next purchase will be that thing. The thing that will make life a little better, a little easier, a little more interesting.

Except that minutes before I saw the ad, I didn't even know the thing existed. And I was doing just fine without it.

Apparently, I can be perfectly happy without something right up until an algorithm introduces the two of us.

Retail Therapy, Retirement Edition

And then there's that fifth item on my list: my rebellion against having to work another year longer than I'd like before retiring.

I get a case of the eff-its and act out through consumerism.

When the items are relatively inexpensive, low-stakes purchases, I really let 'er rip. I justify some of it by telling myself I'm preparing for retirement while I still have disposable income. I'm buying supplies for hobbies I'll pursue, books I'll read, and puzzles I'll do when I finally have more time.

It's not entirely unreasonable. I do want to explore new interests in retirement. But I also know there's a difference between preparing for a hobby and accumulating supplies for a version of myself who may or may not ever use them.

Full disclosure: two of the items I've purchased over the past few years are The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo and Swedish Death Cleaning for Americans.

I mean, sometimes I have the right intentions.

There's something particularly amusing about buying books about owning less while continuing to acquire more things.

But underneath the humor, I wonder if there's something else going on.

Retirement represents a change I've been looking forward to for a long time. Having to postpone it is frustrating.

I can't change that reality by clicking Buy Now, but I can give myself a little treat.

Something to anticipate. Something that feels like a small decision I get to make for myself when so much of my time is still spoken for.

Maybe that's part of it. Or maybe I'm giving a perfectly ordinary shopping habit a more complicated backstory than it deserves.

I honestly don't know.

What Am I Actually Looking For?

Lately, I've been wondering whether I can curb this growing habit.

I think about having a no-spending month. Then I downgrade it to a no-spending week. Then a no-spending day or weekend.

Or perhaps I need to delete TikTok.

I hate all these ideas, which is interesting information in itself.

Why do I resist giving up something I suspect isn't doing me much good?

What exactly am I getting out of this experience?

What am I hoping this purchase will give me that I don't already have?

There's the anticipation of finding something new. The little thrill of discovering an item that seems perfectly suited to me. The satisfaction of making a purchase. The excitement of tracking a package and knowing something is on its way.

And then there's the package itself.

Maybe the pleasure isn't really about the object. Maybe it's about having something to look forward to in the middle of an otherwise ordinary day.

Maybe it's the novelty. Maybe it's the feeling of treating myself. Maybe it's boredom, restlessness, or frustration finding an easy outlet.

Or maybe I've simply developed a habit that has become a little too easy and automatic.

I suspect it could be some combination of all these things.

I also wonder whether I'm confusing the pleasure of imagining a new hobby with the pleasure of actually doing one. Buying the watercolor set, the journal accessories, or the book about a subject I've suddenly become fascinated with is easy. Making time to use them is another matter entirely.

And if I'm honest, I'd rather discover that I enjoy the anticipation of new things than conclude that there's something fundamentally wrong with me for enjoying a little retail therapy.

The question is whether the pleasure is worth the accumulation. Whether I'm buying things I genuinely want or simply repeating an experience that delivers a short-lived burst of excitement.

I don't have the answers yet.

Want to make a little room for reflection?

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An Experiment in Doing Something Different

For now, I'm wondering whether I could start by changing my morning routine.

Instead of spending my morning coffee time scrolling through my phone, I could try journaling, reading something that makes me think, or simply sitting quietly with my own thoughts.

Not because that's the one correct way to spend a morning. There's nothing inherently wrong with enjoying social media or browsing things you might like to buy.

But I rarely have time to scroll once my day gets going, and social media isn't really part of my evenings at this point in my life. Morning coffee is when I do most of my browsing. It's also when I'm most exposed to all those carefully targeted temptations.

What would happen if I changed that one routine?

I could leave my phone alone for the first hour of the morning and see what happens. If I still want something I've seen online, I could save it to a list rather than buy it immediately. A day or two later, I could revisit the list and decide whether I genuinely want the item.

I don't need to swear off shopping or embark on an ambitious spending challenge. I could simply create a little space between wanting something and buying it.

And perhaps I could use some of that space to ask myself a question:

What am I hoping this purchase will give me that I don't already have?

Maybe the answer will be that I really do want the item. That's fine.

But perhaps the answer will be that I'm bored, frustrated about retirement, looking for a little excitement, or simply responding to an advertisement that was very good at its job.

If I can recognize the difference, I might have a better chance of deciding what I actually want to do about it.

I'm not making any grand declarations about becoming a minimalist.

I'm just curious about what might happen if I become a little more intentional about where I spend my attention, my money, and my time.

Because the older I get, the more I think about what I want the next chapter of my life to look like. And I'd like it to be filled with experiences, interests, and things I genuinely enjoy, rather than a growing collection of things I once thought I needed.

And I think I'm still figuring out what that means.

In the meantime, I'd love to know: Do you ever find yourself shopping for the anticipation as much as the actual purchase? Have you found anything that helps you interrupt the cycle, or have you discovered that something else was missing all along?

I'm genuinely curious. No judgment here. I'm sitting right alongside you, wondering what we're really shopping for.

Ready to Reset Your Second Act?

You don’t have to figure out your next chapter all at once. The free Second Act Reset Guide gives you simple prompts and exercises to help you reflect on where you are, what matters now, and what you want next.