Some weeks ago I was chatting with a friend about the horrific economy. He lives in San Francisco and unlike most gay men does not have one domestic bone in his body. He eats out every day and doesn’t believe in cleaning. Well, like ever. We were on the phone and he said, “I just got back from Trader Joe’s. I know I know … I went grocery shopping!” To which I replied, “Whhuuuuutt?” He said, “Yeah, I’m worried about The Depression.” I said, “Seasonal Affective Disorder sinking in already? Gloomy skies in San Francisco makes you want to grocery shop for the first time in 10 years? I’m not following.” He explained, “No. The Depression. You know, the economy. I’m trying to watch my spending.”
It is not as though I don’t realize the horrible state of affairs here in America. Even if I didn’t witness poverty every day living in a city riddled with those without, the news is quick to point out how shitty things are. He asked, “Do you think it’s affecting you?” I had to sit back and think about this for a minute.
Living alone on a salary that is not as large as my looming school debt means I am well-aware of every cent I spend. I live in a SFAH for pete’s sake. I only buy enough groceries that I can carry at a time and choose very wisely between fruits and veggies, proteins and very, very few snacks (those Trader Joe’s Peppermint Jo Joes were an exception, obvi). During these abysmal times, I am deeply grateful for my job and my health insurance. I am grateful to have my bus pass paid for and my utilities included in my amazing $600 rent. But when a girl wants to add pita chips to her Thanksgiving salad and sees they cost $5/bag (WTF?), I can’t help but notice that things are bleak.
For years I have watched those around me live well beyond their means. The use of the word “need” surrounding the description of a new pair of shoes or the latest MAC eye shadow or even a new car is not something I have ever understood. I have never been a frivolous spender. In my working days in San Francisco, well before the reality of living on loans in grad school kicked in, I certainly went shopping on my lunch hour more than any girl needed to. But now … I don’t know if my spending habits are a product of my poverty, or a product of reality. As trivial as it sounds, living with so little in New Orleans and being surrounded by those with NOTHING (forget ‘living with less’ … those people have NOTHING) provided me a deep sense of understanding and appreciation for the word ‘need’. Now I go to work and see patients suffering from grave illness due to poor health choices, not disconnected from their economic state of affairs. I understand living without. For years as I saw my friends buying homes with u-shaped driveways and living in a constant state of ‘keeping up with the Joneses’, I never, ever understood it.
My sister’s constant spending is a very glaring need to fill the emotional vacancies in her life. I, thankfully, find ‘emotional deposits’ in relationships, time spent with friends, introspection and personal growth. “Things” have never ever satiated my internal needs and for that, I am truly grateful. I am not an emotional shoppper, and thankfully not an emotional eater.
Of the million things I am grateful for this harvest season, I am deeply thankful to have a good head on my shoulders. A fairly adjusted sense of self. A whole sense of being that transcends my spending, my grocery bill and thankfully my waistline. Sure, the economy is in the crapper. But each one of us chooses how we spend, on what. How we teach our children to seek approval and desires through toys that last a season. Through a trendy pair of jeans that won’t fit in a year.
I have all I need. Sometimes a sparse fridge with tortillas and peperjack cheese. A dwindling shoe collection that this recovering Imelda Marcos-in training never, ever thought she’d see. Maybe all of us can use these times to reflect on how we spend our money and why. Look within my dear friends. Instead of feeding the instant need for now, the right-this-minute craving for the new Wii game, get your ass out and volunteer for people really living without. I promise you that that investment will last for years to come. Beyond the next style season.
