i failed my NO BUY YEAR
but not for the reasons you think.
(i apologize if you’re seeing this twice. i set this for autopost a week before LA went aflame for the second time this year, and the timing didn’t feel appropriate. i couldn’t unsend the email, but i could un-publish. so i did. yet another process lesson, auto-posting is not always my friend. thank you for your patience and understanding— i’m human.)
LONG TIME NO SEE!
i come back to you after moving back home to Los Angeles— two cross-country moves in 9 months… i don’t recommend. plus, at the tail-end of our second cross-country drive, i got engaged and my cat almost died. then, i got covid twice in 3 weeks
but i am happy to share that after almost two months in my parents’ house, i am finally back in my own apartment, sitting at my writing desk, writing to you.
it’s good to be back, and i’m ready to confess my sins.
PROCESS/PRODUCT:
i failed my NO BUY YEAR
before i discuss my attempt at a NO BUY YEAR, i want to clarify that during a period of time in which people are losing jobs and are unable to meet their base needs, i want to acknowledge the financial privilege that i have; that i am able to buy things beyond my basic needs.
i want to acknowledge that the discussion of a NO BUY YEAR feels incredibly frivolous, heinous, and even a little ludicrous. but it is my lived experience, and this newsletter is dedicated to process.
and so: i push through my embarrassment to share honestly and openly.
and so, if you’re not in the headspace to read about a girl with financial privilege who is unable to stop shopping for a full year, i completely understand— i’d still recommend scrolling all the way to the bottom and reading my list of PIECES OF PROCESS THAT MOVED ME, a list of things i found on the internet or i’ve experience that i found gloriously engaged with the creative process.
around here, we valorize the process over the final product.
but if you do want to hear about what i learned from attempt at a NO BUY YEAR, i am ready to come out and say it…
I FAILED MY NO BUY YEAR.
back in December, i found myself spending to feel better.
i was trapped in central Minnesota and baking scones, often. it felt good to click a button at night and to wake up to a package the next day. most notably, the breaking point was when, late one night, i hit BUY on a pastry cutter, only to discover that the pastry cutter wasn’t actually better than using two forks to mash up the frozen butter into flour.
but that initial BUY was what i was after, not the way the tool worked in the kitchen.
it felt like a rock bottom.
my nine months in Minnesota were incredibly isolating. i didn’t anticipate the difficulty of making friends in the reddest county in the state. i also didn’t expect there to be such a profound cultural difference within my own country. turns out, Minnesota Nice is sort of cold and distant, whereas Native Southern Californian nice is incredibly warm (transplants are a whole different story— the version of LA in your head? not native).
and so i spent a lot of time alone, sitting with my cat, buying things on my phone. only to have them delivered to the package room in our newly built building, which a year before had been a wide-open field. AT&T couldn’t cover the dead zones in the building because no one had ever tried to make a call from there prior. even if all i did was sit in a two-bed, two-bath that cost $1450 a month, i was spending way above my means to abate the constant sense of loneliness i felt in a town that really did not feel i belonged in.
and so, as the new year rolled around, people on the interwebs were discussing attempting their own NO BUY YEAR.
i did light research, watching youtube videos of folks who had attempted versions before me.
everyone had their own parameters: no take out, no shopping, no ubers or lyfts. everyone was attempting to challenge the ease with which we are all able to spend money at the click of a button, rare for any one of us to have cash in our pockets when our phones can mediate each and every (financial and social) exchange.
for me, it was clear: i had to stop buying things i did not need. no more clothes. no more pastry cutters. no more things that filled the seemingly endless well of loneliess that had wedged itself deep within my gut.
back home in LA last December, i absolutely splurged: makeup from Sephora, jeans from Abercrombie, sunglasses from Quince.
i binged right before i would purge, the bulimic binge-and-restrict cycle still alive and well in my mind. except, it wasn’t food, but money.
January.
i felt like i had enough of everything. especially given the way the year started for my hometown.
when we were home for the holidays, the fires ravaged Los Angeles, and our neighbor Altadena. and so when we went back to Minnesota days after watching fires take down our local community, we made the decision to move home.
so many transplants were fleeing LA, whereas T and I felt called to go back— head towards the flames.
we learned: Pasadena is our true home.
when we went to the rental office to break the lease, the leasing agent was incredibly kind, insisted she was happy to listen. but then she was all, “Did you see the lightning rail theory?” then she explained that the burn pattern were EXACTLY the same as where the lightning rail train was intended to be placed.
T replied with: “Fire is random.”
we were so far away from what we had experienced, and i learned first hand how conspiracy theories are flimsy attempts at belonging to things that have nothing to do with you.
no one in Minnesota could understand— or even conceptualize— our grief.
i donated to GoFundMe’s. we calculated the cost of breaking our lease (low, very low). i canceled my Prime Subscription. i unsubscribed from every clothing company that sent me an email. i donated to more GoFundMe’s.
i baked scones, attempting to use my pastry cutter before promptly returning to my forks. forks are good, forks work. i cooked meals at home, unless we drove the hour and a half to the Twin Cities.
i felt more focused on what i needed to get rid of to move back home instead of what i wanted to acquire.
i felt like a martyr for a good cause. it felt effortless to abstain.
February.
i allowed myself to buy books— i need those for my job as a writer, right?
i bought T a Valentine’s day gift. gifts don’t count, right?
i only bought ONE PAIR of pants because they were my favorite pair by Alder Apparel, and they announced they were going out of business. and so it was, like, really and truly my last chance to buy them!!!! they were super on sale!!!!! i ran each and every justification by T., who kept saying, “…okay…”
i really was doing so much better than before. i really was.
March.
we broke the lease. i had to pay for the two UHaul pods. i had to ship boxes full of clothes back home, boxes that didn’t fit in the two UHaul pods because we had acquired too much cheap vintage furniture in Minnesota.
during the road trip home, i DID NOT acquire a single item— really! but there were AirBnb’s and meals out and coffees and seltzers.
it seemed, in the attempt to save money, the universe had flung the most expensive thing a person can do: move.
but i really did not shop for clothes or unnecessary items.
that is, until my cat was dying.
not even 24 hours after T surprised me with a night at the Madonna Inn and a proposal, i came home to my very ill cat.
when we first got to my parents house, he was laying on my childhood bed in a beam of light, purring. he looked so incredibly handsome. we kissed his head and pet him, both of us on our knees at the foot of the bed. but within minutes, his hair was coming out in clumps. he could barely lift his head. thankfully, i had a vet appointment scheduled, and we were able to whisk him straight there.
this is the turning point.
as already established, feelings can be an impetus to buy. and this event, one that i had told people, “When my cat dies I’m going to have to kill myself,” was proving to both be a joke and not a joke.
this grief felt insurmountable.
this cat kept me alive for the past nine years— Jack taught me how to care for someone other than myself. he was my best friend. he was my soul husband. he was with me when i got high and he was with me when i got sober. he’d had some close calls over the years, but this felt like the absolute end.
when the vet said it was either congestive heart failure or lymphoma, i cried so hard that i threw up in the parking lot.
the day after we got home, my best friend Chelsea was flying into town for AWP, which is the largest national convention for writers. and so, i straddled between unyielding grief and the joy of being with my cross-country best friend.
THE MOMENT THE NO BUY YEAR ENDED.
after spending days out in LA with my best friend, then crying over the cat in ubers or in public because i couldnt reach him under the bed, Saturday rolled around.
i had promised to take her to mecca: Nooworks.
in the months prior, i had claimed i could take her there and abstain buying anything myself. FUNNY THAT I THOUGHT I WAS CAPABLE OF THAT.
as we walked in, it was clear that we had the store to ourselves. we both started pulling things off the rack. i thought to myself, “There’s no harm on trying things on…”
but as we both tried on our respective pieces, a joy began to radiate from tip-to-toe. it was the first time that Chelsea had been in their brick-and-mortar store, and it felt like a gift to witness her first time there. we had both started as online shoppers of their wares, but i told her: the pieces you would pick online are nothing like the ones you would in person.
and so finally, i got a case of the Fuck Its.
Fuck It, i said. my cat is dying. i don’t care anymore. this is the only thing that feels good right now.
and you know what? i don’t regret it. the memory of shopping at Nooworks with my best friend is one of the highlights of my year. i told her that i wasn’t having a bridal party, but if i were, she’d be maid of honor. she almost cried. i realized i underplayed what could have been a big moment. it was still beautiful. the pieces i bought are tokens of that memory, and i still feel fantastic wearing them.
shopping was the only remedy i had on hand. but that doesn’t mean it was all for nothing— i am not, totally, a complete failure (only kind of)
WHAT I LEARNED.
consumption is deeply emotional. through abstaining, i learned how much i consume to feel. that, in order to abate or quell a feeling, i will buy something.
need versus want is a paradigm that i am constantly deciphering, like a toddler learning the difference. but as i am only 3.43 years into my sobriety, there are ways in which i am truly like a toddler. it is helpful to remember that if i was stoned or drunk, i would only be living in want, claiming that it was all need.
there is no avoiding the very real reality that clearly, although i have not been symptomatic in my eating disorder since 2012, the binge-and-purge cycle is alive and well— most especially when it comes to shopping.
that’s the scary thing about patterns. although i have been able to break maladaptive behaviors, the shadows of cycles still rule me.
most importantly: i am learning how to be more discerning when i consume.
i haven’t wrangled myself back into full-blown abstinence (which, only seems like i was able to do for one month). but i have come out of this process more awake.
now, when shopping, i ask myself:
am i escaping a feeling?
can we wait?
do i want this or do i genuinely need this? okay but actually do i really, actually need this or am i contorting my want into need?
if i am to get this clothing item, what am i willing to get rid of so that it can make space for it?
how will this item serve my present? my future?
babe, do you actually need this?
it’s okay to not get what you want.
i’d like to try a NO BUY again. maybe three months, instead of a full year— i think i bit off more than i could chew.
and for the concerned party: jack is still with us. he is in congestive heart failure, but the fuckton of meds he is on are working. i am still plagued with bouts of grief over the impending loss— no one can tell us how much time we have left. but each and every day feels like a gift.
and if shopping is the main way i cope? at least it’s not drugs, alcohol, starving myself, or vomiting— all of which i have dabbled with in this lifetime.
more will be revealed— and i’m sure you’ll hear about it. it is all a process.
PIECES OF PROCESS THAT MOVED ME:
Pee-wee and Me, documentarian Matt Wolf discusses the process of working with his childhood idol for The Cut.
Then watch the documentary itself. I was raised on Peewee’s Playhouse— all of my childhood pets were named after its characters. And so, I sobbed. A lot. I understand myself and my aesthetics A LOT MORE after watching the doc.
documenting my wedding dress shopping experience. somehow i am enjoying making TikToks that document my dress shopping ???? blows my mind that i’m enjoying it, too. i decidedly resist content creation because most of the time it feels like pulling teeth. but idk this one just felt good? fun, even? i also feel compelled to be the representation i wish to see because there are no big bad bitches in wedding dresses on social media and i intend to be THE ONE
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Enable 3rd party cookies or use another browserthe concept of a pom-pom maker
decentralizing Instagram from my life. after IG decided that a post i made promoting a class i taught three years ago was Eating Disorder Propaganda, my account was so restricted that I couldn’t even contest the mistake AI made in flagging me. this was, of course, the day before the Liv Schmidt profile, which showcased the most active monetized eating disorder on the internet. she was smart, spelled skinny with an “i”. and the algorithm probably pegged me because i shared on infographic about palestine the day before. so? we outtie. we posting to promote substack. we are doing the bare minimum for IG. FUUUUUUUUCK INSTAGRAM.
recommitting to my morning routine. washing my face. making earl grey tea. reading recovery literature. morning pages. at least one minute of meditation. and pulling tarot cards if i’ve got time. this is the only thing that keeps me sane.
the only time i’ve missed morning pages in the last few years was either because i had covid or a ran over a dog the night before (one of the worst days of my life).
I AM LEARNING HOW TO SEW~!
Tiktok failed to load.
Enable 3rd party cookies or use another browserwatching this lamp be made:
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(…can u tell i’ve replaced IG with TikTok?) (oops.)
as always, thank you for being here. we are very much ~*~in process~*~ over here. if you haven’t already, please become a subscriber to get this newsletter straight to your inbox:
i would love to hear what resonated with you or what made you sick to your stomach or if you have anything process related that you love and would love to share:
and if you think someone you love would love this newsletter, don’t hesitate to share it:
AS ALWAYS
I AM SENDING ALL OF MY LOVE.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXO,
PAULINA