At the juxtaposition of life, I felt the crossroads on my back. The money slipped through my fingers and I felt heavy with remorse. Pieces of paper, green in color, felt dark upon my heart.
Shopping while in the throes of emotion, was a battle I chose to fight, but knew that it was one I would ultimately lose. I felt my moods dictate my direction, my limits… my wallet.
Bad days and credit cards were a harsh mix, and I played a dangerous game of roulette. Red or black… Even or odd… I went for it. I spun that wheel and teetered on the edge.
And I didn’t care.
Emotional shopping was a wound that continued to fester. There wasn’t a bandage large enough, to cover my openness. This wound that continued to make me sick, no matter what I bought, just would not heal.
I would come home from my whirlwind of plastic euphoria, and there would be nothing but emptiness. What was in these bags that I just dropped on the floor? What did I buy?
What did that receipt say?
Shopping while wearing your heart on your sleeve is dangerous.
I learned this lesson the hard way, and I paid for it bitterly.
Credit card companies don’t care that you bought two pairs of shoes because you had a bad day. They don’t care that you studied your behind off and your professor gave you a bad grade anyway, so a trip to the mall was in order. They don’t care that your job sucks, and you have thought about quitting for the umpteenth time, so instead you went to the MAC counter at the department store, and lost your mind.
They don’t freaking care.
Emotional shopping is like a bad hangover that won’t go away. Until I gave up that proverbial bottle and stopped imbibing on plastic dreams, I did not realize that I was strong. I did not realize that below the surface, I was capable of conquering the “shopping while emotional” demons.
I fought it. I refused to give in. Though there have many a time I have been tempted, I will not be defined by the chaos that comes with the carnival of emotional shopping.
I am a fighter.