Happy Holidays vs Unhappy Habits

Though my business has dropped 85% since September, I still yearn to go Christmas shopping, even though I know intellectually that spending money on anything other than necessities at this point would be completely self-destructive.

Why so much inner conflict? I was born in Southern California in the late 1950s. I was programmed to shop.

When I was 4, my mother asked me what I wanted for Christmas. The truth was, I had no idea that I wanted anything. But having spent countless hours in front of the TV - even by that tender age - the programming was well entrenched. "Gaylord the Dog!" I declared. I didn't really care much about this mechanized walking dog, but my TV set told me I wanted it, so who was I to argue?

I got the plastic dog, which crawled forward - or backward - when you pulled on its leash. The novelty wore off in a matter of seconds. I'm not guesstimating - I've seen the home movies of that Christmas morning, and I can tell by the expression on my face that my interest in the toy lasted all of 3 minutes.

Still, being the sole recipient of the albeit uninspiring Gaylord the Dog on my suburban cul-de-sac, I was the envy of my peers. That lesson wasn't lost on me. Half of the stuff I coveted should be purchased not for my own enjoyment, but to impress others!

I just revisited Annie Leonard's video "The Story of Stuff", and it reminded me how indoctrinated I was - and still am. It's hard to shed years of consumer programming even though I know my habits work against my general welfare.

46 years later, I still want all that bright, new shiny stuff! Even when I stroll through BigBoxVille, knowing intellectually that all the crap on the shelves is made in China, is designed to break within days and is toxic in some way or another; even though the crap on the shelves no longer compels me, because it's no longer designed by Americans who understand our sense of shelf appeal; (most products I see these days are less attractive to me, because they are designed by Asians who don't get our sense of style.); even though experience tells me that once I buy the stuff and get it home, my interest will last about as long as it did for Gaylord the Dog; even though I am aware of all these things, I have to fight to resist the neuro trigger that prompts my arm to grab things from the shelves and throw them in my cart.

Even though I know intellectually that this consumer tango is anything but fulfilling, I feel even less fulfilled as I avoid shopping for anything beyond basic necessities. And, though I am learning (thanks to my resourceful fianceé), to frequent the secondhand stores for what I need, I end up feeling dissatisfied because these recycled items aren't as bright and shiny, nor are they packaged as cleverly, so these sensible purchases don't satisfy my consumer impulses, and my more intelligent behavior still leaves me feeling deprived, and "less than".

The frustrating thing is, I know better! I'm a graphic designer for cryin' out loud! I understand all the devious tricks employed by marketeers. Sadly, even though I'm well aware that psychologists toil endlessly to determine the precise formula that will manipulate me into buying more unnecessary stuff, even though I know how insidious and predatory this system is, I miss it so much! For the love of gawd*, I miss it!!

I miss entering that shiny, fantasy consumer world where I can pretend that all my needs will be satisfied if only I toss the right combination of products into my cart and whisk them home. It doesn't seem like Christmas without the shopping ritual. In my twisted little brain, Christmas equals the usual trappings of tree, lights, festivities, friends and family, cold weather, etc., but the Christmas I crave includes shopping, crowds, traffic, more shopping, hauling a trunk full of crap into the house and wrapping it, even more shopping, bills, and most of all, STRESS. In my mind, I don't call it stress. I call it "the festive hustle and bustle", and for decades, it's been a necessary component that makes the season feel right. Whatever I call it, I'll bet it has already whittled years off my life.

So this year, despite my pre-programmed proclivities, I am making a determined effort to modify my behavior, and the hardest urge to resist is this desperate feeling that I'm missing the Christmas experience. I feel the compulsion to join my cart-wielding comrades in a furious dash through the store, trampling a door greeter or two as we go, all making a seething, futile grasp for the false promise of consumer contentment. So far, I'm resisting the temptation, despite the gnawing sense of void growing in my solar plexus.

I have to keep reminding myself: 'tis the season to reinvent myself, and that task includes reinventing Christmas. Christmas could be a relaxing time filled with peace and warmth, filled with the joy of rekindling friendships as we all gather together (in a non-retail establishment!), during these dark, cold days and remind each other that warmer, sunnier days will return (literally and figuratively). Again, I know all this intellectually, but I don't yet feel it in my guts.

So, Santa, if you're listening: what I really want for Christmas is the strength to rise above decades of consumer programming and change my behavior, even though this sinking, empty feeling will linger awhile as I strive to break my deep-seated, unsustainable habits. And while I struggle to make these changes, please help me remember that if I succeed in breaking free from the bonds of consumer culture, I can finally start living a richer, more fulfilling life.


*Yes, I meant to write "gawd" as in "gawdy", not "god".