habits

Thinking  more about what I wrote the other day. I see that I have been relieved (!) of many of the activities that have often soothed (or seemed to soothe) my anxiety, loneliness, and self-doubt: I no longer have recourse to shopping, whether for clothes, or cosmetics, or for household goods; I drink far less often; I see fewer friends; I cannot treat myself to a fancy coffee or a piece of pie as  little pick me up. I see, too, that my increased sugar consumption is very likely related to the loss of all those things. Also that my new exercise habit and my recent hunger for fiction are other, healthier responses to the loss of old self-soothing activities. 

It is good to lose shopping and alcohol and sugar as means for alleviating the anxiety of growing up. Seeing my habits and behaviors and tics and tendencies in this way, I see that there is more room for improvement: I plan to give up trimming my cuticles. Now that I see why I have been eating sweets more frequently, I can look for non-food and non-sugary food replacements. (I envision an upcoming mild obsession with sweet potatoes.)  I appreciate the exercise and the fiction-reading more: these are strong, healthy, good things. I can keep including them as part of my daily routines.

I also see that, as I have been paring my life down--paring my activities down--I am taking somewhat better care of myself: I do the dishes and the laundry more frequently. I have not run out of toilet paper or cat litter in months. I don't even remember having made the bed many days but I look over my shoulder to check and it has been made. The laundry doesn't pile up. My pantry is well stocked. I find I have time to make steel cut oats in the mornings and soup on the weekends. This does help to relieve some of the anxiety about the little daily chores that never go away.

And I see it that way: I am paring down my life. How much can be eliminated? How much is necessary? What is it I need and what is it I want and at what point can I tell the difference?

I keep looking for things to eliminate. Not activities or people, but things. I've purged my bookshelves recently; now I see that I can do so again. There are clothes to eliminate. Some furniture (my filing cabinet is a source of pure stress). And I would like to have some new things; in particular, I dream of crisp ivory bedding to replace worn duvet covers and sheets. In general, however, this seems to be a time in which to grow lean. A time that leans away from activity, community, luxury, decadence. A time that is full of time, and time is just the thing I need: there is an enormous amount of writing and reading and research to be done and this requires uncluttered time. This is a time to strengthen the muscles of my body with exercise and a time to stretch my imagination with fiction; this is a time in which to sink into research and make my mind supple by writing.

I wrote the other day that I am annoyed with myself and vexed to be unable to avoid myself. As I pare my life smaller and smaller, I am finding it more and more difficult to hide from myself and that might be the source of my annoyance. What is it, really, that I am afraid of? What is it I've hidden or scooted to the side by shopping my way through anger and sadness? What is it that I numb with sugar and with obsessive cuticle trimming? What is it about pushing my body to do a few more pushups or a few more squats that brings me to tears--not from physical pain but from sudden emotional rawness?

Peeling away habits of destructive coping rituals leaves me feeling exposed and undersupported. The new and healthy habits I am developing don't seem to obscure the fear and anger from which I have been trying to escape. Instead, they lead me back to them even while providing some kind of support for me while I learn to look clearly at myself.

There will be enough

Since the advent of the new budget, I have had to learn to use things up, make do with things I have, and do without things I otherwise might have bought. Not a bad lesson to learn, certainly. I have been learning that I resist using things or using them up because I worry that there will not be enough—that I will be caught unprepared. 

I have been learning to tell myself that there will be enough. It is okay to use the last box of broth because there can be more (whether I make or buy it). It is okay to open the last bag of pasta because I can get more. I don't need to buy a new bar of shampoo until this one is mostly gone; there will be more. 

And sometimes things work out in spite of my planning or lack thereof. A friend sent lovely handmade soaps and now I have enough. The sub shop down the street unexpectedly brought a box full of mini subs for the office and now I have lunch. 

I tend to worry more than I ought. Reminding myself that there will be enough and finding that it is indeed the case that there will be enough might become a strong antidote to fear and worry and rumination.

a small measure of success

The philosophotarian kept to her budget this month. One down, forever to go...!

I have been desperately desiring a new tube of lipstick. The intensity of this desire is a little embarrassing, really. I have visited Sephora.com countless times, filling my online shopping basket and then closing the window just before purchasing. 

This month, I have been throwing away all catalogs as I receive them, not even allowing myself to look. I have unsubscribed to every email shopping alert I've received. I've planned out all my cash, stuck to my budget, turned down fun, cancelled plans for which I had no funds; I've seriously downgraded my coffee, made pantry stew (rather tasty), and cashed in gift cards. 

And I have been dying for a new lipstick. Ideally, it would be something swanky in lovely packaging--a Tom Ford or a Dolce and Gabbana piece of art. I broke down yesterday. I took my "beauty/grooming" envelope and headed to the CVS, where I spent a little bit of the money I had already set aside for the haircut I'll need at the end of the month. After much looking and comparing, I found one. A drugstore lipstick. I haven't had one of those in ages. But this seems to be exactly what I wanted: not too shiny; no pearl or metallic element; not matte, either; just a bit more than the natural color of my lips and it doesn't smell too bad. And it was under ten dollars. 

I shouldn't get quite so much pleasure out of something so frivolous. I know this. It does make me feel more confident and hopeful about this budget as I prepare for month 2.