For the most part we aren’t crass consumers anymore.  By we I mostly mean me because I am pretty sure my husband would go hog wild on electronics if given the chance.  We weren’t always this way but we’ve made some great strides towards the whole less thing.  There was a time in my life where I had almost 100 pairs of shoes and enough clothing to make your eyes bulge out of your head when you got a glimpse of my closet.  In fact, I am pretty sure I am largely responsible for the economy crashing as I pretty abruptly buttoned up my spending.

I get off track so easily.  Back to my point.  I do have one.  I swear.

So anyway, I was bragging about being such responsible consumers.  Comparatively.  And since we’ve made these changes, I have felt better.  I’m not focused on amassing a bunch of crap that was likely manufactured in China by young children under horrible conditions.  I don’t stress out about not having the latest and greatest XYZ (again, this is my blog, not Scott’s.  he may well be stressed about the unconsumed electronics).  I am pretty sure that I used to be somewhat compulsive about consumption.  Not to get all Freud or whoever, but it wouldn’t be a big leap to say that I probably bought things to assuage some subconscious want or dissatisfaction with my life.

I am currently in the process of remodeling my home.  Before having kids and moving into Vermont, I was seriously into design and spent much of my free time perfecting my home in FL.  It feels good to feel energized about making my space in Vermont my own.  I don’t feel guilty about doing some consumption or spending my free time scouring the web for diy tutorials.

But I am occasionally finding that spoiled, over consuming, brat makes a guest appearance.  My intention is to do everything on the cheap–reusing, repurposing, and refinishing whenever possible.  But that damn brat pops up in attempt to derail my best efforts to be responsible–tempting me to make the flashy trendy purchase over the practical enduring purchase.  And if that is not bad enough, she even slips back into obsessing over consumption of this or that.  And sometimes I don’t even realize she is here until I catch her whining about wanting/having to have this or that.  And I’m disgusted.  But I haven’t known how to control her.

Until today.

I remembered that no matter how much I bought, I never felt fulfilled.  So I would keep looking and buying more.  Vicious cycle.  I wasn’t happy.  And gosh darn it, before I started thinking about amassing more crap, I was totally happy.

Holy shit.  I’m so obtuse.

What I really want, I have.

And when I stop focusing on the love– on my little sprites,  on our good fortune,  on our health.  The happiness–it fades.  And really when I am spending so much time wanting a couch instead of enjoying my beautiful life, I am unworthy of happiness.

It is so simple.  I feel like a fool for losing sight of it.