I am a shopaholic. I have always spent more money than I had, even when I was a child. My parents fed this habit in multiple ways, but now it’s a source of fighting between my mom and I. A few weeks ago I confronted her about it, and told her she taught me to be this way. She just said, “Well, I’m unteaching you.” as if it were as easy as a one-sentence fix. I guess she can’t understand that it’s not selfishness, it’s psychological.
It really came to a head when I was fifteen and my parents were fighting and Mom started planning for divorce. Stuffed animals were my comfort – if it was soft and cuddly, I had to have it.
After the divorce, it skyrocketed out of control and grew to include fluffy blankets and soft pillows…anything that was remotely comforting and made me feel safe. It has since transferred to other items, but there’s always a hole in me that no amount of fuzzy pajama pants or colorful trinkets can fill.
I have gotten much better in the past year, partially through willpower and partially because of circumstance. Shopping used to give me a sort of high, but eventually the depression over my debt became stronger than the high. Nowadays I can’t even get to the check-out line before the guilt and depression hits. Shopping, along with so many other things in my life, has lost its joy and its potency. Unfortunately, the hole is still there, and the urges don’t ever stop.
And Daddy’s answer…
My confession is to my Baby. In truth, I think you already know this, but I wanted to say it anyways. You, what we have, this love, and this relationship scares the everlovin’ fucking SHIT out of me. I’m pretty sure it scares you too. That is not to say I want to leave, you know I don’t. And I don’t want you to leave, you know that too. I do think you are very good for me, and I for you. However, that doesn’t mean this is easy. It’s not. It’s TERRIFYING. I’ve liked people before, and I’ve been in love once or twice. But the depth of what we have, the vulnerability, the openness, and the trust… it all makes things very easy to be hurt. I do trust you, and I know you trust me. But again, that doesn’t make things less scary, it makes them MORE. It’s beautiful in a frightening way. So that is my confession. I love you deeply and dearly, and you have SIGNIFICANT power to hurt me. I’m trusting you to do your best not to.