Little Did I Realize, I Was Fueling My Worst Habit
It’s another beautiful early-out day from work. 7–3 turns out to be 7–9, but that’s what happens when you schedule three AM prep cooks. On a Tuesday. At the end of the busy season. With no lunch shift to look forward to.
So, I ended up with the entire day to myself, and wondered what to do with it. The answer was simple: hit up my Instacart side-hustle for the rest of the day. With the subconscious intention to feed my low key shopping addiction.
Instacart has been a blessing these last few months. An hour or two at least matches my hourly wage, and it’s good for picking up the Wednesday and Thursday slack before payday. The danger comes from being able to cash out all earnings, minus tips, directly to my bank card. It’s a Godsend when I need groceries, gas, the last minute things at the end of the week; but on a normal day, the temptation to stop at the Dollar Tree on the way home and blow the rest of what I made is difficult to avoid.
Dollar Tree is my vice. I get a lot of our household supplies and toiletries there, now; they also carry decent coconut oil and La Croix, as well as the cotton pads I like. It should be in and out of the place every time… But, because everything is only a dollar, it gives me a false sense of being able to afford a daily shopping spree. So what, if I spent $40 at Dollar Tree? I got 40 things! I could have gone to Walmart and only gotten, like, eight things. I could have gone to the mall and gotten, like, one thing and lunch. So much value!
Or, I could have just gone home and not spent $40 on any things, but that’s not exactly how the brain works when hampered with an addiction.
So, here I am in the Dollar Store, $17 the richer from an Instacart run, and feeling justified in another small shopping trip. In truth, there was $3 worth of things I actually did need; but at $1 per item, what does it matter how many other things end up in there, too?
$3 quickly turned into $14. Not the worst thing, but pretty typical. Then I went to grab my money card, and…
“…Uh… Where is it… Where is it??? Um, heeeeeeey, can you hold this stuff while I run back to my house real quick…?”
*insert sheepish, anxiety-riddled smile*
*que eye roll from the one cashier on duty in the store* “I’ll have to void it.”
“That’s fine, my house is 2 minutes away. I’ll be back in 15 minutes!”
And with that, I took the stroll of shame back to my car, drove back to my house, and tore the place apart, looking for the card.
And as I did so, it got me to thinking…
I don’t NEED any of that stuff. Even the stuff I was walking in there for in the first place. I can do without it all.
And now, a good 30 minutes later, I have no intention of heading back for the stuff I felt so compelled to buy before. I can’t even bring myself to feel guilty or socially awkward for not coming back as I said. Just a while ago, I felt like I had to return, because I had said I would. It felt like I had promised it. Having not only caught myself, but settled into the relief and freedom of telling my addiction NO, feels better than following through and a pretend social obligation.
In spite of the small panic attack that always come with misplacing a money card, I’m glad that card was momentarily missing. It was what I needed to snap out of it. It got me home, where all the STUFF I already have is, where there is an impatient cat always waiting to remind me to pay more attention to the small, simple, free things.
Thank goodness.
