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wasn’t just lying to my family about these things—I was lying to myself, mostly about what all of it was doing to my physical and mental health.
For the next year, I wouldn’t be allowed to buy new clothes, shoes, accessories, books, magazines, electronics, or anything for around the house. I could buy consumables—things like groceries, toiletries, and gas for my car. I could purchase anything I outlined on my “approved shopping list,” which was a handful of items I could look into the immediate future and know I would need soon.
wanted to stop wasting money on things I thought I needed, only to come home and find I already had more than enough.
I wanted to get to a place where I only bought things I needed when I needed them.
One thing debt and clutter have in common is that as soon as you start letting it pile up, it can be harder and harder to see your way around it.
I emptied every closet, cupboard, and drawer in my apartment and dumped the contents onto the floor of each room. This was a few months before Marie Kondo’s The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up hit bookshelves in North America, but the method was essentially the same.
Each time I craved it, I had to stand in the moment, pay attention to what had triggered the craving, and change my reaction.
The toughest part of not being allowed to buy anything new wasn’t that I couldn’t buy anything new—it was having to physically confront my triggers and change my reaction to them.
More often, though, it was simply because that was what I had always done. In the past, whenever I wanted something, I bought
it—no questions asked, budget and savings goals be damned. To combat these impulses now, the only thing I could ever think to do was remember how much stuff I had gotten rid of and how much I still had at home. It was enough. I had enough.
This was going to be about more than just not spending money—I’d be changing the habits and routines I’d spent years perfecting.
I was a compulsive binge consumer of everything, really, including food and alcohol.
In three months I had pieced together my new life. I had an apartment filled with matching furniture, a closet full of new clothes, and a brand-new car. From the outside, it looked perfect—and it had only taken three months to create. I was finally free. Except I wasn’t free, because my new life had cost close to $20,000. It was all paid for with credit, the debt was mine, and I would carry the weight of it for many years. There was nothing free about that.
Why do we encourage each other to spend money, when we should all be saving more?
One lesson I’ve learned countless times over the years is that whenever you let go of something negative in your life, you make room for something positive.
Like the time I tried the diet where I had to restrict myself to 1,200 calories a day. It lasted all of four days before I convinced myself I could handle one piece of dark chocolate. But the one piece of dark chocolate quickly turned into the entire bar of dark chocolate. And who the heck was I kidding? I couldn’t do this stupid diet, so why stop there?
the difference is that guilt equals I did something bad, and shame equals I am bad.
There were books I thought smart Cait should read, clothes I thought professional Cait would wear, projects I thought creative Cait could tackle.
started with the books and asked myself a question I’d never considered the answer to before: Who are you buying this for: the person you are, or the person you want to be?
I had always assumed it would be more difficult for a young child to have parents separate, but I learned your age only changes the ways in which you are impacted. If you’re young enough to not remember your parents ever being together, it’s all you’ll ever know. But when you’re an adult (and practically a co-parent), and you grew up in a loving household, your parents’ divorce can feel like your own divorce. And there is a lot to let go of when you find out it’s over.
I could barely get out of bed—and not because bed was my sanctuary. There was nothing beautiful or peaceful about living under the covers in pajamas that hadn’t been washed in weeks. There was simply no better place to spend half the day in the fetal position.
wine. I live alone. No one will ever know. There it was again: the voice—my voice—trying to talk me into doing something bad.
His thought: Why stay in the continuous loop of talking about living with addiction when you could simply go out and live?
While many people treat themselves by buying things, I had always treated myself with food. So instead of picking up a bottle of wine, I picked up pizza. And chocolate. And ice cream. And some nights, I picked up pizza, chocolate, and ice cream.
There is something to be said about being totally self-aware and still choosing to do what you know is bad for you.
While the comfort food phase took only a couple of weeks to reverse, my newly rediscovered television addiction required a little more turnaround time—31 days, to be exact. What started as background noise that filled the silent void in my evenings had quickly become nonstop chatter. I had always loved living alone, but I did not love being alone now, and there was a big difference.
I’d been telling myself I “didn’t have time to do” for far too long. I did have the time, I had just chosen to spend it doing other things.
I still don’t understand why we are always so quick to push off the things we actually enjoy doing for the things that take just a little less effort.
But I wasn’t mindlessly consuming television for the sake of avoiding the uncomfortable silence anymore.
As I became more mindful about what I was putting into my body and mind, I started noticing I had become a lot more mindful about my spending, specifically when it came to things I was allowed to purchase.
It was the first one I could see myself wearing often, the first one I could imagine spending money on, and it took me nine months to find it. There was nothing impulsive about that decision.
I had never truly felt a need for something, because I had always purchased things to fill future needs that might come up.
The truth, I was learning, was that we couldn’t actually discover what we needed until we lived without it.
I decided to also set a stretch goal for myself.
Before the shopping ban, the most I was saving was 10 percent of my income each month, which meant I’d been spending the other 90 percent.
If you’re wondering why you can’t save money, stop buying stuff you
don’t need! And trust me, you probably don’t need anything in here!
I had also always been stuck in the consumerism cycle. I thought I needed to earn more money each year, so I could have more of what I wanted. That cycle meant I was constantly spending the extra money I was earning, rather than saving it, and I still wanted more on top of that.
When you want less, you consume less—and you also need less money.
Aside from being proud of her, I was jealous of her courage.
One of the best things about budgeting and keeping a record of where your money goes is that it gives you the tools to map out a plan for the big stuff—like quitting your job.
I was spending almost the exact same amount of money on living expenses every month—and it was less than ever before.
I started my blog to document my debt-repayment journey. It was an accountability tool, and a way to connect with people who were dealing with similar situations.
If you want more stuff, you need to earn more money. If you want less, you need less—and are then able to calculate how much money you actually need to earn.
When I hit the 10-month mark of the shopping ban, I was surprised to find I couldn’t remember the last time I had thought about buying something I didn’t need.
I felt content with what I had, and was confident I could coast to the finish line on that emotion.
The way she could switch from talking in a meeting about six-figure deals to asking if you’d seen the latest episode of a reality show proved you should never take yourself too seriously.
she exemplified how important it was to ask for help.
I wasn’t challenged and I wasn’t learning, and, therefore, I wasn’t growing.
I should have known by now that anything was possible if I made it a priority.
