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| The Basics | 5 ways to stop the urge to shop
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If you can still pay your bills, you might not think you have a problem. I didn't think I had a problem, either -- until I asked myself why buying shoes felt so good.
By MP Dunleavey
I just finished reading a new book called "Confessions of a Shopaholic" by Sophie Kinsella. It's about a financial writer who simply can't stop shopping.
Sounds oddly familiar, doesn't it?
Not that I have a shopping problem. At least, I don't think I have a shopping problem. I mean, I certainly enjoy shopping. Does that make it a problem?
This question has become rather pressing ever since I stopped working at home and rented office space downtown. I liked working at home. The retail options were limited. The fridge was a short walk from my desk. Banana Republic was not. This is not true at my new office, which happens to be a great deal but is sneezing distance from SoHo, shopping capital of the known universe.
A moment of truth
The change in my shopping habits -- simply due to the sudden proximity of a ridiculous number of retail opportunities -- has alarmed me. Not that I've gone hog wild. But my sense of restraint is in a coma.
What is my so-called financial sanity worth if it can only be practiced in the safety of my own home? Am I a sham? Or do I have a problem with spending that goes deeper than I'm willing to admit?
I got what may have been a sign the other day. I was in Ann Taylor Loft, admiring a little red skirt, when my thumb got stuck in the hanger. No, I don't know how that happened. But it was really stuck. I twisted. I pulled. I felt like Inspector Clouseau. It was so embarrassing. Finally, I yanked my thumb free, and the metal skirt clasp sliced my finger open. Blood and everything.
As the saleswoman bandaged my wound, I decided in shame that God was punishing me for my frivolous materialism.
Of course, that didn't stop me from going back the next day and buying the damned skirt. By then, I'd had a chance to calm down. There was nothing wrong with shopping, per se, I reminded myself. Or with the two pairs of shoes I bought on sale last week. Hello, it's fall.
When shopping becomes a problem
After all, I don't have any of the classic symptoms of overspending, which include lying about or hiding your purchases or never using what you've bought. (See Related Sites at the top of the left-hand column for more information.)
I even took a test, which assured me that I wasn't a compulsive shopper. And when I spoke to a few people with more direct experience, I felt like a lightweight.
Gabe is married to a compulsive shopper who is a fanatic about coupons. (He asked that I not reveal his last name, as did others I interviewed for this column.) "She knows how to work the system," he says, describing how his wife once came home with 112 boxes of brand-name cereal, which she'd managed to buy for about 28 cents each. The fact that his family will never eat it all is beside the point for her.
For most compulsive shoppers, it's not the items that are meaningful, says April Lane Benson, Ph.D., a psychotherapist in New York and editor of "I Shop Therefore I Am: Compulsive Buying and the Search for Self."
"For some the motivation is the moment of purchase, the rush of purchase," she says. For others it's the quest, the challenge, the "getting more for less" -- even while going into debt.
Shopping instead of living
"I needed quantity, that was the thrill," says Barbara, a paralegal and recovering compulsive shopper. "If I was feeling depressed on a Sunday, I would hit a consignment store and come home with bags and bags of clothes."
Her closets were stuffed, she was carrying $15,000 in credit card debt. When she started using her debit card, she'd be so careless that checks she wrote would bounce.
The cyclical nature of addiction dictates that whatever "drug" you choose is ultimately a poor substitute for what's missing or needed in life. It will never fill that hole. And so the empty feeling (or angry, sad, frustrated, bored or hopeless feeling) persists. And yet the addict returns to the drug because it delivers a brief moment of relief or pleasure -- however false and fleeting it turns out to be. As Barbara said, "You can't find love at the mall."
Barbara started attending Debtors Anonymous, a little-known 12-step program modeled after Alcoholics Anonymous, for people who spend and shop themselves into deep trouble. With the support of other group members, she learned to address longstanding feelings of rage and sorrow that were rooted in her abusive childhood, to cope with them rather than run to the nearest sale and shop, shop, shop.
"I didn't know that talking could keep me out of the mall," she said, "but I learned." (For tips on how to cope with compulsive spending, click here.)
The magic of things
I didn't exactly identify with Barbara's experience, but I decided to attend a couple of DA meetings anyway. At first I was depressed and discouraged by what seemed to be everyone's despair about money. ("Hi, I'm Jack, and I'm a debtor and underearner.") But as I listened to people share their emotional struggles, the struggles that become triggers for irresponsible financial behavior, I felt a connection. I realized that there are many more of us on the continuum of compulsive spending than we'd like to admit.
With alcoholism or even eating disorders, there are physically negative and often obvious side effects. Those are a little harder to spot with addictive materialism. We all need food and clothes and CDs and shoes. And there's a vast gray area of healthy -- now patriotic! -- consumerism that supports and encourages our spending. Never mind Costco.
I spoke to Andrea, 29, who has always been a shopper. Now she thinks she may have a problem. She'd routinely buy 10 pairs of shoes at a time. But she was careful to buy them on sale, and she never got into debt.
She was forced to cut back when she got laid off for a few months. But her sister called one Saturday from the DSW shoe outlet and den of iniquity (I know it well) to suggest they meet there. "I said no," Andrea recalls, "but when I hung up, I found myself pacing back and forth, trying to decide if I should go anyway. Then it hit me: These are just SHOES! That's when I decided I have a problem."
Thomas Hine, a historian of cultural materialism and author of "I Want That!: How We All Became Shoppers," points out the paradox that Andrea and many of us are up against. "You define a problem shopper as someone who can't pay his or her bills," he says, "but as long as the person shops and pays their bills, they're just a good customer."
I may not be a bona fide shopaholic, but like Andrea, I sometimes feel something is amiss. My friend Val, a marvel of frugality, often says, "I hate spending money." I feel both envious and baffled when she says that. I love spending money. On anything. Even a package of Q-tips is satisfying.
But what do I think I'm satisfying when I spend? For the first time I'm realizing that maybe I seek some kind of emotional kick when I go shopping. Maybe, just maybe, I'm looking for something else, and hoping the new skirt (or Q-tips) will provide it. Which, duh, on an intellectual level I know is fruitless. But is the thrill of buying a gorgeous new pair of shoes rational?
This idea puts me on pause whenever I think of shopping now. On one level, I may indeed need to buy paper towels or a new answering machine. On another level, I have to ask myself: Am I looking for something else -- distraction, entertainment, a boost for my mood? That, I notice, causes me to think twice, which is a good deterrent. But until I've figured things out, it can't hurt to consider working in a retail-free zone again.
Ways to cope with compulsive spending
If you're worried that you may have a problem with compulsive spending or shopping, psychotherapist April Benson suggests five ways you can start to cope. (If you're deeply in debt or your spending habits are causing conflict with your loved ones, seek professional counsel or consider going to a Debtors Anonymous meeting.)
1. Admit something's wrong. If you can't open any of your closets, your credit cards are maxed out, or you cover up crazy spending behavior, you probably have a problem with shopping. "The first thing you need to do is face up to the issue and admit that you need some kind of intervention," says Benson.
2. Examine the problem. Every compulsive spender is different. Do you spend only occasionally but in big splurges? Or are you on a constant spend-a-thon, moving from one credit card to the next? Do you go nuts for a particular commodity -- electronics, food, jewelry? In order to get a grip, says Benson, "You need to admit the particular nature of your problem."
3. Name the feelings. Benson suggests asking: "What are you shopping for?" To boost your ego? Relieve depression? Get back at your spouse? Is it a creative outlet or a form of self-expression? Does being at the mall ease loneliness? "If so, see if you can find other ways to meet those needs."
4. Look at your time. Compulsive spenders face more than financial losses, Benson points out. Ask yourself how much time you spend browsing on the Internet or stalking some great deal. How else could you spend your time in ways that would truly improve your quality of life?
5. Open your horizons. When hearing about shopper Andrea's passion for fashion, Benson wondered if she could volunteer as a consultant with Dress for Success, a program that helps disadvantaged women find jobs. "You have to have a rich life." Benson says. "True wealth isn't 500 pairs of shoes, it's things that feed your soul."
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