Okay, let’s get real—am I guilty of seeing the delivery guy in front of my door practically every week? Yep, I’m raising my hand. With a brand-new apartment and way too much stuff to unbox, I ended 2024 with a shopping spree… and an empty bank account. Was it worth it? I mean, yes, I love everything I bought, but the danger came when I started with bigger expenses” like furniture. You know how it goes: I spent $500 on a closet, so what’s another $50 for pillowcases? And $30 for cool book holders? Oh, and definitely need those $20 cute socks! It all seemed so small in the moment. But then I took a good, hard look at my finances and realized that all those little “necessities” had added up. Spoiler alert: my savings account wasn’t looking so hot.

Here’s the thing: my consumption habits had become… well, mindless. Amazon and I had become best friends, and I convinced myself that things like a vitamin dispenser, an electric cleaning brush, a face roller, dried flowers, and teacup holders were absolute necessities in my life. I was totally aware of the short-term joy I felt with every purchase, but it also kind of freaked me out. It made me realize how good marketers are at triggering the pleasure centers in our brains every time we buy something. I mean, I’m reading “The Myth of Normal” by Gabor Maté, and he quotes, “Neuromarketing is a strategic invasion of human consciousness, consciously aimed at the hyperactivation and constant agitation of the dopamine/endorphin functions of the brain.” (Maté, 2022). Yeah, that’s some deep stuff, but basically, companies are really good at making us feel like we need something to be happy—seriously, there are whole teams of neuroscienstists, psychologists and marketeers behind that—when in reality, that happiness (or, let’s be real, it’s more of a fleeting pleasure) fades, and we just want more.

It’s a dangerous cycle. In fact, Maté also says, “The more people value materialistic aspiration as goals, the lower their happiness and life satisfaction and the fewer pleasant emotions they experience day to day.” (Maté, 2022). Um, yeah. Let that sink in.

So, what did I do? I decided it was time to hit pause on my spending habits. I challenged myself to not buy anything for a month (besides groceries, of course). This wasn’t just about trying to save money, but also about stepping back to observe how it would feel. No online shopping, no mindless purchases, no new things. And honestly? Unlike my sugar-free January challenge, I had almost no withdrawal symptoms. Sure, at the start, I found myself eyeing stuff online, wondering how I could resist that cute donut vase for my apartment (seriously, it was calling to me). But after a couple of days, I stopped looking. And that’s when something clicked.

I started to look around my apartment, and for the first time, I realized: I have enough. I genuinely appreciated everything I owned. I even looked through my closet and found clothes I’d barely worn. Why do I always want more clothes when I have so many already? It made me realize how ridiculous it is that I get tired of outfits so quickly.

And here’s the kicker: I didn’t feel stressed or overwhelmed by this constant desire for more. I realized how much of our consumer-driven society feeds this “need” to always have the latest, greatest things. It’s exhausting, right? Telling your brain to be on the lookout for new stuff, convincing you that you’re lacking, that you need more, do more, be more. It’s no wonder everyone feels anxious! But when I took a step back, it felt like I had cracked the code. I was rebelling against the system that wants me to always want more, and I felt content.

Instead of scrolling through Amazon or Zalando, I found myself focused on meditation, yoga, and reflecting. By the end of the month, not only did I feel zen, but my bank account actually looked pretty good too. I was proud of myself for making it through the month and not spending on unnecessary stuff.

So, what’s the takeaway here? I made a promise to myself: the next time I really want something, I’m going to wait. If, after a few days, I still feel like I need it, I’ll ask myself if it’s something I truly need—not just something I want. I’m not saying I’m going full-on minimalist, but I do want to consume more mindfully from here on out.

And as a little treat to myself? I bought that donut vase. And guess what? I did need it. 😉