The Trouble with Retail Therapy

I'm going to be straight with you.  

Right now, I want to go to the mall.  I want to walk in Forever21 and by the first sparkly thing I see.  I want to go into J.Crew and buy something, anything.  I want to hit up H&hipsterM and buy flowy long sleeved shirts or retro-patterned sweaters, potentially with elbow patches.  I'd like to just go blow some money on a watch at Charming Charlie's, maybe some crafty stuff at JoAnn's Fabrics, The Call by Os Guiness, some Toms Botas, some songs on iTunes. 

Will I?  No, it's 8 o'clock at night, and it's January, so it's remotely close to cold outside.  Instead I snarfed down my dinner, ate a few tortilla chips and served myself a bowl of ice cream.  The latter I ate while Pinterest surfing other people's dream closets, dream weddings, and dream workouts.  Fifteen minutes later, I emerged from my image/sugar-induced stupor and put the dishes away before ambling back to my bedroom to blog about this very phenomenon. 

It's been a hard week.  [I mean the word "hard" in a comparative-to-my-life sense, not that I actually have a hard life.]  One of my mentors is with Jesus now.  I haven't had an abundance of sleep.  The kids were crazy, I got a new student mid-morning, I sent a kid to the office, I had a relationally productive/emotionally challenging meeting.  There's more, but I won't bore you with the minutiae.  I was sitting in my classroom grading math homework just wanting to walk out the door and go shopping, go eat chocolate, go to Starbucks, go sit and cry, go get an office job. 

Granted, I knew spending money on sequin-ridden poly-blends, consuming large amounts of complex carbohydrates or gazing at someone else's dream haircut would not fix the issue.  Sure, they would serve as a cognitive diversion and a sort of emotional medication from what the real problem was, but they wouldn't encourage any sort of growth or healing or progress. 

Somehow I find it easier to just do fun things or "get over it" instead of dealing with whatever is bothering me.  In the case of school, I get frustrated and discouraged, then try to shrug it off instead of honestly assessing the things I need to work on and making an action plan for how I'm going to address them.  In the case of my mentor, I try not to think about it too much because I might end up with my face buried in the carpet in tears again. 

Feeling empty, feeling pain, feeling hunger, feeling loss are things I'm not accustomed to.  Looking criticism in the face and letting it humble me instead of harden me is not something that comes naturally.  This whole business of...

"Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness."

and

"Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you.  But rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed."

...is not my first response when life throws a curve ball.  Instead, I tend to want to pacify myself with stuff, pout, wallow, or quit.  I don't really want to sit and think about exactly why today was a bad day at school.  I don't really want to spend time getting carpet burn on my forehead crying out for God's comfort.  I don't really want to find a place to just be quiet - a Pinterest-less, social media-less, quiet place where I can think about how I'm spending my time or my money. 

What happens when my bank account is empty, my closet is full of boots, hipster sweaters, ochre colored jeans, and navy infinity scarves?  When my brain is so caffeine wired that I can't go a day without Starbucks or Dutch Bros or Coffee Bean?  When I have to have whatever it is - dark chocolate, cinnamon ice cream, a Diet Coke?  I'm left with all the problems I started with and have added being broke and sucrose-dependent. 

Insert your favorite kind of self-centered therapy here _________.  Whatever it is, it will leave you empty.  There is one Life-giver, one hope, one love.  His name is Jesus, and He came to save His people from their screwed up, broken, inward focused, self-gratifying, empty lives.

I am not sentenced to a life of futility and caffeinated retail therapy.  Tonight, my dinner prayer over my chicken pasta salad (thanks, mom) went something like this: Oh help.  That's as articulate as it got.  And I think that's all it takes. 

Love,

Little Miss Sunshine