we’re in the “buy anything with just a click of a button and your firstborn kid” era
how to reign your bad spending habits in
Hello! I’m writing this to you on a cloudy, warm day after several days of torrential rain. I sent out a reader survey a bit ago, and someone let me know what kind of content they’re interested in! Thank you, kind friend.
So we’re going to talk about how to adjust your baseline mindset around money and spending when it is not feeling good or working for you.
I’ll also have another post, soon, about how I went from spending money in my 20s to how I spend it now, at 31. If you want to read that, please subscribe.
Important preface: A lot of what I am about to say does not cover situations where you simply do not have enough money to pay for basic, essential needs. That is a whole other difficulty. But this can apply to people with, and without, lots of extra discretionary income.
how do you actually feel about money?
I grew up with some messages about money, like we all do: my parents were thrifty in many areas of their lives and prioritized certain things. I grew up middle-class. For example:
My parents basically never bought things like holiday decorations, home decor, tchotchkes, above the bare minimum of like, Christmas lights. We had ornaments we used my whole life.
My parents did not “upgrade” home furniture unless something broke. We had the same leather couch from my birth until I was in high school and it was still in great shape, albeit sunken.
My parents would fix things. My mom would break out a sewing machine to hem my clothes or patch a hole in my pants. My dad would fix things around the house himself.
We didn’t eat out very often. Going to the movies was a special treat. We did do a lot of going to art museums and galleries–my mom was an artist–and we went to the library often. (Though, my parents did buy me plenty of books and toys as a kid.)
I got an allowance, and I would save up money for the occasional big purchase (Pokémon video games that I pre-ordered.)
We shopped mostly sales, discounts, and using a list. For most of my life, we got the local paper and cut coupons.
For most summers, I’d visit family abroad (because my parents are both immigrants). We’d stay with family or in free housing.
My parents paid for classes for me: tennis lessons, karate, theatre camp, etc.
When I was around 12, my dad got me a kids’ checking account and showed me how to put money in. He also showed me how to use a check register to balance my account.
Did all of this mean I spent super responsibly when I moved away and got my first credit card? No!
But did it mean I was generally pretty careful and didn’t do anything like rack up serious debt? Yes.
I say all of this not just to flaunt my wonderful parents, but to encourage you to really consider how money was used around you growing up. Was it used to gloss over a conflict? Did an absentee family member show up and buy nice shit once a year?
I knew a girl in my public high school whose dad was fully absentee, like, on another continent, I knew nothing about him, didn’t even know his name or where he lived, but he once flew her to China to watch the Olympics in Beijing.
Sitting with what you were told about money can help you begin to gain a sense of self-awareness around how money operates in your emotional life.
finances under the influence of *~*glamorous ppl*~*
One thing about moving to New York is that it is a world where you can be on a subway with people making much, much more (but not much, much, much more or they’d only take a car) than you and much, much less. I would often see a jacket on tons of people, realize it was a trend, and google it to realize it was a $600 jacket. Did all of those people have $600 to blow? Hell no. But did I sometimes feel like the only one who didn’t? Totally.
New York can be crunchy and shoestring budget and getting your furniture from the curb (which I do love) but it’s also a city of immense wealth—in 2022, more billionaires lived in NYC than any other city in the country. And it can definitely be a city of “spending money like you have money” when really, you have debt.
But if you’re easily influenced and don’t realize that the people around you dressed in off-the-rack designer goods may be flaunting trust fund money or just a nice Amex Gold card, it can be easy to feel like everyone is rich AF except you.
Like, literally this weekend, I saw someone on the subway with a scarf that had a huge logo (like 2” by 4”) sewn on. What other way to show that you’re wearing prestige fashion? I told a friend about it, and she looked up the scarf. It cost $320. Barf.
I’m working on a whole other post about this in detail, but it’s worth considering who you spend your time with and around.
I spent most of my time with people who were also scrappy artists, theatre actors, and people without tons of money in the bank. That meant I could easily say, “Hey, I’m trying to save money right now, I can’t go out to eat.”
If you’re really in a financial bind, you should be able to be honest about financial boundaries with your friends or social groups. If you can’t, they’re probably not really friends, or at least they’re kinda snobby assholes.
where the dolla dolla bills go to die
It’s an overdone statement, but you gotta know where your money goes. Some people use a software that just tracks their spending (and probably sells all their data, RIP Mint), but I like a software or an Excel spreadsheet that makes me manually enter what I’m spending. Is it a little annoying? Sometimes. Most of the time, it takes me ten minutes. And if I know that I’ve spent money and I really do not want to write it in the spreadsheet? I’ve probably spent out of alignment with my values.
Speaking of death (one of my key topics), we’re all gonna die one day. I think about death often, not just because I’m a totally Normal Individual, but also because it helps me think about what really matters.
For me, I want to travel, read, have a dog, own a home, and not work myself to death. I also want to spend money in a way that is as minimally environmentally destructive as possible, realizing all purchasing is contributing to environmental destruction, carbon emissions, unfair labor practices, in one way or another. (A way I try to reduce this harm is buying less.)
get grounded
Why do you want to spend differently? Do you feel shame, or guilt, or a sense of being out of control?
Are you spending because, really, you’re spending for the life you wish you had? Are you spending because you wish you were happier, or your body was smaller, or you feel your skin should be “better” (omg I will write more about this elsewhere), etc.
The dopamine of a purchase is real, but it’s very fleeting. I mentioned in my anti-black friday post around marketing tactics that trigger emotional responses and how to handle those.
a little journaling exercise
If you found out you were going to die in the next 5 years, what would you spend your money on? What would matter? Write those things down.
What would not? It’s important to be honest about things you do want and things that society might push you to want, no matter how big they are.
The nice thing about the death exercise here is that usually, under extremes, we care less about what others think. I don’t know about you, but if anyone gave me shit for how I lived my last five years, I’d be like, “fuck you, I don’t have time for your opinions.”
I think that especially women or people socialized as women are taught to care about societal expectations of their lives and cater to these expectations (also out of hope that men won’t kill us). This can often mean we’re spending in a way that’s aligned to other people’s standards.
we’re in the “buy anything with just a click of a button and your firstborn kid” era—not scarcity mindset time
It’s really easy to buy anything, it’s really easy to be exposed to types of products that, if we were just walking around a town of 5,000 people pre-internet, we’d never know about. We’re under heavy influence.
At the same time, we’re bombarded with messages that imply everything is being sold in “limited edition” “drops” with “no back stock” or “no more inventory” and “everything must go” and “you deserve it” because in the words of Parks & Rec, “treat yo’self,” and also you can “buy now, pay later.”
But let me tell you something: we are in environmental resources scarcity, but we are not in L*lul*mon legging scarcity. That thing you want? It’ll be there.
Also, keep a sense of humor about your wants—if you notice yourself going down the rabbit hole of obsessive product research, realize that, well, it’s just some spandex. That doesn’t mean you should beat yourself up if you buy something and regret it, but it just means realize that most things don’t really matter that much.
thinking long-term about your objects
Also, ecologically-minded purchasing means thinking about each purchase as an investment.
Whatever you buy, you’re going to have to clean it, take care of it, repair it or learn to repair it, and physically store it. If you don’t have a place for it, you’re going to have to make space.
Last year, I got a bike for about $1500. 🚴 It’s not my commuter bike, but it’s my long-ride, gravel bike.
Then, four months later, I got into an accident on said bike. I had to spend about $200 to fix the bike’s front rim, get a replacement rack on the back, and another $200 to replace my bike computer that was lost in the accident.
When I was loaded into the back of an ambulance, I had to worry about where it would be in the meantime or who would watch it. Because bike theft is common in New York, I have to store it in our (not that big) apartment, carry it up and down the stairs to/from our apartment, and up/down stairs on the subway.
I learned to change a front and rear tire, fix a derailleur, adjust the seat post, and a bunch of other things to make sure I can ride it properly, too. I have to fill the tires, check their pressure, patch them if they get a flat, etc. I have to clean and lube the chain. I (should) take it to the shop once a year for maintenance if I’m riding a lot.
Isn’t that a lot of work? Yes, yes it is.
And so is actually taking care of stuff you own, unless you just shove it into a closet.
Not every purchase is as big as bike, but it’s worth thinking about them like they are. If the idea of “taking care” of what you own or want to buy makes your eyes roll, maybe what you’re thinking about doesn’t matter that much.
being honest about when you’re a tiny baby
One time when I was on shrooms I said “we can all be the tiny baby” and began to weep.
What I meant was, sometimes we’re small and vulnerable and need care. (I know, I was pretty damn smart for a hallucinating person.)
Sometimes, you feel broken, sad or alone. The world feels broken, unrepairable, destructive. The government of your country is supporting the genocide of an oppressed peoples and acting like their not.
And in that moment, you want a latte. Or nail polish. Or a book. (It’s always a book, if you’re me.)
That is totally understandable because most people are not big fans of sitting with their feelings, especially ones of discomfort. It can be nice to distract yourself with: “do I want it in red or in black?” as the main question of your day instead of, like, calling your congressperson. (This is also such a degree of financial and literal safety and privilege, it’s important to acknowledge.)
When my mom entered hospice care, all I wanted to do was read, and buy yarn, and knit things, because that reminded me of being a kid, or at least being before I knew I would have to face the fact that my mom was dying.
Did I buy some stuff? Yes. Did I let myself off the hook? Yes. Did I also stick to a budget and “rules” around what I would let myself indulge in? Yes.
Did buying anything provide long-lasting comfort to me during the hardest experience of my life? Hell no.
Do I regret my purchases? Some of them, I look at now and think, “That was not fully necessary.” Because I limited it, I bought items I’m using. I bought a scrapbook to memorialize my mom and pictures of her and memories.
It’s so, so much harder (and not at all advertised) to sit with yourself than it is to buy some piece of plastic that will outlive you, your kids, and their grandkids.
But the first one has a much better pay-off.
a journal prompt/exercise for emotional spending moments
Carry your phone or a notebook around. Every time you find yourself opening a browser to shop or clicking on a sponsored ad, open the notes app/notebook.
Write down what you were doing right before you opened the tab.
Write down what you were feeling/thinking about.
Write down if you were shopping out of distraction of said feeling. If yes, then write down two short sentences about how you’re feeling.
Close the browser/ad/etc you were shopping on.
Wait thirty minutes and see if you remember that item or that desire to buy something. Note how you feel again.
Are there ways you help yourself mentally reset? Are there specific ways you struggle with this that I can address in the comments? What works for you?
Don’t forget, no matter how much stuff we have, we’re all gonna die. ;-)