How to Spend it

Saving? Never heard of her

Last week I bought a bag. It was a nice bag. A very nice bag. It’s a big burgundy number and it can fit a laptop, several notebooks, a pint of milk, four Lidl pastries and a baby in it. This bag is going to change everything. It will transition me from maternity leave to girl boss. I will build the empire with this bag on my arm. She’s back! Look out world! And look at my bag!

I shop in three places. The first is M&S which we’ve talked about before at length. Jeans which fit, shop assistants called Pat, good quality t shirts and knickers which go on for days. Next is Vinted. God I love Vinted. Yes the kids clothes are next level but everything is on there. I bought a refill of eco deodorant yesterday for a fifth of the price. I bought my £8 face wash for £1.50. Brand new with tags! I’ll start my Christmas shopping there and I will finish the rest at lovely little independent shops.

In a world of Amazon and next day delivery (which I do use because I’m impatient) independent shops feel like fairyland. There is nothing in this world more beautiful than a darling little shop curated by a real life person who is probably standing behind the till. Every little thing on the shelves has been considered and arranged. A scarf hanging just so, bookmarks laid in a fan, cards on tiny pegs. What will you find? What will you fall in love with? What will you take home? You take your buried treasure to the counter where they wrap it in tissue, tie a ribbon around it and thank you for coming.

here’s a picture of me

A few weeks ago I was scrolling Kiti Cymru, a boutique women’s clothes shop in Cardiff. There I saw the bag. The bag I would conquer the world with. I was still thinking about it a week later and decided I couldn’t live without it a moment longer. But then, the unthinkable, sold out. Sold out everywhere. I emailed Kiti and got a lovely email back from Catrin who was genuinely upset for me.

Rather than seeing this as a message from the universe that this was perhaps not the bag after all, I became a bloodhound. I went deeper and deeper into the hunt. Google images, instagram, scouring the internet to find it. Hours into the evening, Jon asking ‘didn’t you say you were going to bed?’ Then, I found it. It was available from a charming clothes shop in Bath. 10% off your first order. Buy, buy, BUY!

But just as I was about to click Apple pay, I got a sticky feeling. Something wasn’t quite right. I wasn’t excited to buy it. Instead I was apprehensive. The fever had been in finding it but now I was about to buy it, nothing. Slight disappointment. But this was a quiet feeling and I was already in a loud shopping frenzy so of course I bulldozed over it and ordered the bag.

A few days later the postman delivered a large black box. I tore it open and there it was, the shiny deep red shopper. It wasn’t how I’d imagined. I picked it up and was surprised the handle was so small. It meant the whole thing sort of fell into itself. Not like the website pictures I’d poured over. I put it over my shoulder. It didn’t fit properly. I’ll make it fit! Like a wicked stepsister with a glass slipper. I extended the strap, then shortened it. I put it over this shoulder and that. I held it on my forearm and down by my side. It just wasn’t right. When I knew it had to go back I actually felt relieved.

I have always had difficult relationships with two things; food and money. Food we can talk about another time but money has been a mystery. As soon as I have it, I have to spend it. Get rid of it. As quickly as possible. Money hits my account and straight away I start thinking of things to buy. Don’t worry about making it last just spend spend spend. And this is where the buzz begins. The thrill of the idea, the search, the frenzy. The pressing add to basket. The confirmation email, thanks for your order! The height of it all is delivery day. The moment I open the parcel. After that it starts to fade and I need my next hit. My next purchase. It doesn’t have to be a handbag, it could be hoover bags or plant food. Anything for a fix.

This has been my story for as long as I can remember. Money comes in and it has to go. Almost like I’m not meant to have it. Because maybe, I’m not.

I always say there’s privilege and then there’s me. I am a middle class white woman, born in a leafy part of Leicestershire who then moved to an even leafier part of Cheshire. I am privately educated. I was able to do work experience for free and take radio jobs for next to nothing in order to begin my career. I wasn’t allowed to sit about and do nothing but I was given the space and luxury to ponder what I was going to do. I was helped on to the property ladder. I’m taken on fancy holidays. I have wanted for nothing.

Consequently I never talk about money because I am not qualified to talk about money. I’ve worked, I’ve paid my tax, I have a mortgage and other debts but whilst my bank account is in its overdraft, I don’t know what’s it’s like to have nothing to fall back on. So I never say a word. Never mention it. It’s my biggest secret but as I’m telling you all my secrets these days, here we are.

However, the frenzied spending isn’t because I have a house full of designer shoes or jewellery boxes overflowing with diamonds. I don’t eat from silverware or use expensive face creams. I don’t drive a fancy car or shop at Net a Porter. The truth is I get rid of money because, if I had to, I have access to more. I’m not allowed to have money because other people don’t have what I have. Other people have real problems, my diamond shoes are too tight. And that’s why I have never talked about it. Because how dare I. Even writing this to you is making me feel a bit sick.

So why am I writing it to you? Because there’s healing to be done here. There is shame and the only way to heal shame is to drag it out in to the light. A manic, toxic relationship with anything can’t sustain. Emotional eating, frenzied buying, anything too quick and too fast. Mania is the opposite of peace. Fixation is the opposite of calm. Mindless spending or eating keeps us trapped in a vicious cycle. The high, the low, the restriction, the splurge, the binge, the feast, the regret, the self hatred, the promise to be better. And so it continues. In distracting exhaustion. But not anymore. I have to heal it for the sake of my nervous system. I don’t want to be ruled by food or spending. I want to be ruled by me. I want peace and joy and light and I have been looking in the wrong places for those for too long.

I emailed the shop I bought the bag from to explain it wasn’t quite right and I needed to return it. No reply. I emailed again and this time they said ‘oh send it back and we’ll sort it.’ I paid for tracked delivery, this time out of anxiety rather than the thrill of a purchase. It was delivered. I had a picture of it on the shop counter. I heard nothing. I started to panic, what if it was misplaced, what if I had to battle them. I emailed again, I got nothing back.

On Saturday morning, outside Nancy’s ballet class, I rang them. A lovely girl knew nothing about it but would check with the office and give me ‘a tinkle back.’ She didn’t call. I noticed their google reviews. At the top was a one star review with a story about returning jeans bought online and never receiving the money back. I started to panic again.

I rang again at teatime. The same girl answered the phone and told me it was all fine. I asked her when I could expect the money and she said, yes it’s on it’s way. No further details. Just like the google review. I started planning next steps. I could also leave a bad review. I would call every day if I needed to. Could I travel to Bath?

I worried for the rest of the evening then surrendered it back to the universe. She rolled her eyes and said she did try to warn me. The next day I had an email to say the money was on its way and this morning it arrived. I asked myself if it was worth it? The worry, the chasing, the high? Was this how I wanted to spend my days, orders and returns flying across the country? Manic spending to try and fill a void and distract me from a simple joyful life? No, no it was not.

It had been stressful, annoying and ridiculous. I don’t want to be like this with money anymore. What if instead, I could just sit still with money. Hold its hand. Know the spending will come in the right way and what a delight when it does. What if I could become friends with money and in turn, myself.

such a good bag

Yesterday I was passing one of those lovely little independent shops to get to the bus stop. I popped in. I smiled at the little Dracula mouse statues and smelt some of the candles. Then I saw a bag. A mint green bag hanging under the counter. It was in the sale. A third of the price of the red one. I picked it up and tried it on. It was nice. I left the shop thinking about it.

I got to the bus stop and saw I had 12 minutes to wait. I lingered, thinking about the bag. With 5 minutes before the bus, I went back and bought it. A girl wrapped it in tissue and popped it in a brown paper bag. She said she’d had her eye on it as well so was glad someone had bought it. I got on the bus with all my favourite things; supporting a small shop, a brown paper bag and best of all, sweet, delicious calm.