Waxing Lyrical: Free Wheatpaste Therapy
chronically-self-reflecting woman writes a whole lot of nothing about the capitalist life she actively chooses to partake in everyday because of a sticker
On my walk to my local food shop I am often haunted by a tiny wheatpaste poster that says “what you own ends up owning you” which you will know to be true if you have ever had to move house. And because cities like to punish those without a car or a driver’s license, I have to walk past it a lot if I want to keep my fridge full.
This past week the only thing I could think about was shopping. And not because I had to buy food for once. Instead, for clothes and makeup and shoes and skincare and things to have and to hold. I think this is otherwise known as a shopping addiction. However, I don’t really have the means to act on such an addiction, probably because of said addiction. Which is also why I don’t have a driver’s license. But I’d rather shop than drive, which may be the addiction speaking. This strong want to shop that has possessed me, and does at least once a month, had to be channelled elsewhere for the sake of my bank balance. So I turned it into a moment of *self-reflection*. Can you tell that I’m an eldest daughter with a hyper-independence issue? (I say issue because it often manifests as crippling super-loneliness). Basically, I sat myself down and asked her why she’s so obsessed with things. Why I feel possessed to possess. And that stupid little poster popped into my mind. At first I thought it was a blah-blah-fluffy-facebook-mum-pinterest-inspo quote á la live laugh love. But when it showed up in that moment, I had to sigh for fear that it may have read me and my habits (see: addictions) to filth.
I could sit here and blame social media for its borderline harassment through ads and affiliates for stuff I definitely don’t need, like a 1kg paint pot of concealer and a gym jacket that will make me look like I either don’t really need to use the gym, or in fact live at the gym. I could also blame my *very cool* parents for their hoarder-adjacent attitude towards their books, clothes, shoes, art etc. But I can’t blame them really. Their stuff is dowsed in taste, quality and memory. I envy that they can relive past lives through things thanks to pre-2010s high production value. Unfortunately a jumper from my early teens hasn’t made it far enough to remind me of the good old days crying over maths homework at the kitchen table. But such trauma will live on in your bones whether you like it or not.
If I had to pinpoint it, I would put a wanting of things down to money scarcity mindset; the idea that I have to spend money or it’ll leave me anyway but I'll have nothing to show for it. Something to take to therapy and not Substack, probably. I would also say it originates from the human longing for permanent joy and happiness. And that dopamine hit from something shiny and new fills that void. Albeit for 2 minutes, before the buyer’s guilt kicks in. Overconsumption is a club I’ve found myself unknowingly subscribed to after the 7-day free trial. It crept up on me. TikTok made me think it was normal and we were all doing it. We kind of all are. And now that I’ve seen the subscription cost to this club (a cycle of debt in order to keep up), I want out. And I imagine you do too.
On the plus side, I don’t feel compelled to gently peel the wheatpaste poster down from its spot on the wall in the middle of town. That is something I don’t want to own and in turn have it own me. I would’ve loved to have reached this point of my newsletter and now present you some solutions for our learned overconsumption, but I haven’t figured that out yet. The best I can present you is taking some time off of those apps, using the “not interested” tool to filter the algorithm’s materialist encouragement and really refining what it is you actually like. And maybe get a hobby.
The latter is something I am currently working on/reconnecting to. Because I’m pretty sure one of the biggest factors for my shopping addiction is sheer and utter boredom with my life. And so I live through my things. And unfortunately, they do end up owning me. Can’t say I ever expected to be therapised by a minuscule wheatpaste poster on the street. But here I am.
This would be an incredible time to now present you with some visual depictions of things I’ve been loving this week! The irony would be both comedic and worrying. So I’ll spare you. Here’s a photo I love instead. Right now, you can’t own it or anything in it, it’s merely for viewing purposes. Take a minute to enjoy it/despise it - whatever your taste permits.
If you made it to here, please send me some of your focus.
As always, lots of love.
And thank you for the support of Kind of cool. I really love writing these.
Love this post 😍