Lessons of a Shopaholic Part 1: A Personal Rehab Saga

I have a confession to make: My name is 3-Penny Princess, and I'm a Shopaholic.

["Hi, 3-Penny Princess."]

I officially entered shopping rehab and started my own 12-step program to get back to being a responsible citizen. My goals: 1) pay off my shopping debts, 2) cure my obsessive habit, 3) learn to shop in moderation, and 4) not use credits cards unless it's an emergency (and that Chloe bag that I've been eyeing for months finally going on sale for 60% off is not an emergency).

The truth is, it wasn't so long ago that I was a responsible citizen. The temptations were always there, but I found the strength to subdue them. For years I shopped in moderation, bought only what I could afford, and didn't even used credits cards (due to early abuse of my first credit cards in college, an error in judgement that ruined my credit for years). When I finally felt comfortable with the idea of using credit responsibly and learned to pay my credit card balance each month, I felt that I had triumphed as an adult.

Then, at some point -- between being pummeled with an unprecedented year of J.Crew discounts and signing up for every shopping email club on the planet -- I fell off the wagon. Oh, it didn't happen suddenly, mind you. I didn't take a fabulous trip to Europe and go on a shopping spree on the Champs Elysees. I didn't suddenly get the job of my dreams and revamp my entire wardrobe. I didn't even splurge on a brand new Louis Vuitton luggage set or even one single Tiffany diamond necklace. No, the road to depravity is paved with the most trivial of acts: a small indiscretion here, a harmless find there, a can't-miss sale everywhere...

It starts out innocently: you go out to buy one birthday present for your best friend, or a dress to wear to an upcoming wedding. But then you get dazzled by a radiant window display of new springwear that stops you in your tracks. The next thing you know, you're trying on outfits that look so fabulous, they make your pallid winter complexion glow like a Mediterranean goddess, not to mention the inches they subtract from your untoned abs. Besides, with the incredible discounts on top of the irresistible sale prices, it would be a crime not to buy a few things. Just to tide you over until you unpack your real spring wardrobe, which may not happen for a while (I mean, why does it always snow here in March?). The shopgirls buzz around you like worker bees, wrapping efficient little piles of your treasures in bright tissue all the while praising you for your excellent purchases.

Basking in the euphoria that ensues for the next 20 minutes to an hour, you mosey on toward your original goal with a spring in your step and a gleam in your eye, not even noticing when you get pulled in by the intoxicating aroma of tuberose wafting from an undisclosed corner of the perfume counter. Why, of course you deserve a new fragrance. Those overbearing caramelly-vanilla aromas simply won't do for spring! But wait, you gasp, as you make a determined run for the door to veer back to your shopping path -- are those not the most fetching coral beads hanging on that accessories rack next to the vivid new yellow and turquoise baubles? I'll bet they would be just the thing to liven up the new jacket you recently snagged at the end-of-season clearance. And with that steady supply of Macy's coupons that never runs out, the necklace costs almost nothing. It feels so good to find great bargains!

Until you realize that you've already spent $200 and you haven't even looked at what you came in to buy in the first place. Or, you rejoice that you just bought 3 pairs of pants (because we all know what a pain in the fanny it is to find well-fitting pants), but what you really needed were a couple of pairs of comfortable yet chic shoes for your upcoming trip. Or, you swore you wouldn't buy any more sweaters, but then the one you'd been drooling over since fall finally went down to an acceptable sale price and you would have cried if you didn't get it.

All of those very appropriate excuses, I concur, but you're left with one slight problem: you spent more than you expected, and now you have to find the money to buy the stuff you actually need. Like the present for your best friend or the dress to wear to that upcoming wedding. What to do? Looks like you'll have to "borrow" a bit and pay it off next month. And by borrow, I mean take it home today, pay some now, and pay some later. And later. And later. It was not until I was wallowing knee-deep in credit card debt that it occurred to me that I might have a problem.

To be sure, I'm far from the only gal with a *slight* shopping addiction. As exemplified gloriously by the ravishing redhead Isla Fisher in "Confessions of a Shopaholic" -- which helped make our February J.Crew Aficionada outing a major hit -- it's almost expected that a fashionable girl with a flair for the dramatic will have an overflowing closet with an equally overflowing credit card bill. Surely I wasn't the only one who felt an instant kinship with the main character in that movie. Why, beautifully clad mannequins speak to me all the time, beckoning me to enter their dangerous albeit stunningly outfitted boutiques. And who hasn't thrown caution to the wind to take an extra long power-shopping lunch, especially when there's an important sample sale at your favorite store? A fierce shopping habit is nothing to be ashamed of -- it's something to be proud of, like excelling at a hobby or creating artistic masterpieces. It's hard work to create an award-winning wardrobe and to churn out ensemble after killer ensemble, n'est-ce pas?

Why, then, did I feel a slight twinge of guilt after the movie finished? Like many, I had actually applauded the feel-good ending which culminated in a sensational sell-off of the heroine's beloved clothes and accessories. I thought to myself, "Hmmm... maybe she's onto something. Maybe I don't need to shop constantly to be happy." I even plotted ways to re-create the momentous feat in my very own closet. I would simply ferret out as much as possible, sell it off, pay off my sizable credit card debt, and not shop again for a very long time. I mean, surely I could live off a couple dozen pieces and perhaps a modest 5 pairs of shoes, maybe 1-2 bags?

Well, that short burst of motivation lasted for about 2 hours. Then I made it home, checked my email, refreshed the news on my blogs, and came across the latest J.Crew 20% discount. Needless to say, my guilty conscience didn't stand a chance. In no time, I was placing my next order and counting down the days till the package arrived at my doorstep, relishing the sweet feeling of success while at the same time gambling nervously on not being caught again.

But busted I was. As my husband opened the door and stepped out for his early morning cigarette -- mind you, on the one completely unforeseen day that he decided to work from home -- what should fall onto my floor but a fresh, promising J.Crew package, hot off the first delivery truck of the morning? (Damn that early UPS delivery! When the package says it will come tomorrow, why can't it come tomorrow? And for the love of God, why pick this one day to deliver a package at 8:00 in the morning when I usually sit around all afternoon waiting for J.Crew packages to arrive?)

This on the heels of a severe tongue lashing just 2 weeks prior when my husband came home to find an order containing yet another coat plus a skirt, with a not-so-discreetly packed invoice for $300? To really hammer the last nail into my coffin, a second package arrived in the mail the same afternoon with, of course, more J.Crew items, this time snagged off the JCA Weekly Exchange.

That's it, I thought. I'm really toast now. My husband is surely going to take away my credit cards, block all shopping sites from my computer, possibly move us out to the remote country, and force me to give up shopping permanently (or at least until I break out and make a run for the nearest mall). Sure, our marriage is built on the premise that we each have our vices, but there comes a point when enough is enough. And my recent overshopping "incident" in November (for gifts, I swear!) had turned into a habit that was threatening to overtake me for the fourth month in a row. Bracing myself for maximum impact, I sought to appease the gods of domesticity by offering to make an award-winning dinner. Which got turned down, adding to my anxiety about what was to come.

Instead of being served divorce papers or a surprise intervention, something else happened. The next day, my wise better half emailed me a questionnaire from one of his favorite blogs, The Consumerist, entitled "Addicted To Debt? Take Our 15 Question Quiz." He pleaded in the email, "Be honest." So, like the good wife that I am, I faithfully clicked on the link, read the article, and took the test. "Awesome!" I exclaimed after I was finished. According to the test, I'm not even close to addicted to debt. I made haste to reassure my beloved that he needn't worry -- I had no such ailment plaguing me.

And yet, a different feeling gnawed at me. The feeling that something was definitely wrong. Was it shame for blowing off the last incident without nearly enough remorse? Was it the guilty relief that I get when I find out that I'm not in as much trouble as I thought? Or was it something less specific, a mysterious void that fills my head every so often when I can't figure out something? What was really troubling me?

Was it the simple fact that I had overspent my shopping budget in the past 6 months (by about $5,000)? If so, that was easily fixable. Not easily, mind you, but nothing that a dedicated year of diligent payments couldn't alleviate. Or, was it the relative apathy that I felt about my current financial situation -- the situation being that I now routinely overspend and don't think the slightest thing of it? What was wrong with me that I no longer cared about my carefully constructed budget and was content to constantly swipe my card to bring home the next coveted thing?

Maybe it was my utter lack of self-discipline that ultimately prevented me from restraining myself anymore? Had my female hormones finally taken over to the point where my mind was driven entirely by thoughts of shoes, bags, coats, sweaters, and shiny objects?

I shuddered at the thought. I was always one of those girls who kept a budget. Of course my shopping budget was generous, but at least I knew it from the start, so as long as I kept to it each month, I could at least justify my spending habits. And sure, I believed in the occasional splurge that warranted a big dent in my credit: a new quality timepiece (after the old workhorse wore out) that I could pass on to my children, a fabulous well-constructed coat that transcended the seasons, a timeless leather bag that brought together my entire wardrobe and resisted trends, or new furniture for the rec room that we could use for at least a decade. Those are all good investments, no one can argue.

The problem was, one couldn't go and make too many "investments" all at once, could one? Once a year, maybe, and only if I paid off the full damage before the next big "investment."

Another thought entered my mind: what was motivating me to suddenly start "investing" in so many material goods? Was it the recession psychology that prompted me to put my money into things that I could see and touch rather than frittering my money on on goods or activities that didn't? Perhaps it was a sudden paralysis about investing in the uncertain or intangible, like real estate or stocks. If anything, the fear of an economic downturn should prompt me to stop spending, not spend more. And yet, restless anxiety was combining with some animalistic urge to overpower my logic and constantly erase memories of previous purchases, forcing me to think that I needed more stuff. It was like a medicine that my old boss's dog used to take that made him think he was always hungry even though he had just eaten.

Besides, a rather high number of purchases of the past year could hardly be considered "investments" at all. Endless cashmere sweaters, bought just because I loved the colors. Beautiful coats in all shapes and colors, because we show so much of our exterior to the public. Pair after pair of lovely heels, because a girl can never have too many shoes. And now, bauble after pretty bauble that really added flair to the aforementioned coats and sweaters, especially at such bargains. Even my jean collection had exploded after having suffered too long from ill-fitting styles and constantly shrinking pairs.

And was it good? Of course, it was all very good! I could now go an entire month without taking my clothes to the cleaners. I had so many amazing outfits for every possible occasion, there were literally not enough occasions. I felt glamorous and stylish almost no matter what I did or where I went. So yes, mission accomplished!

But then, the act of shopping began to take precedence over the fruits of my shopping labor. I wanted, needed, breathed shopping each day. I couldn't get enough of it. I sought it in online buys. I sought it in store purchases. I read about it when I wasn't doing it. I talked about it after I did it. Shopping had become much more than an enjoyment -- a wildly exciting hobby that I happened to be good at. No, shopping had become my primary occupation, something I felt that I needed to accomplish every day. The dishes could wait. Dinner could come in another hour. My work could resume after lunch. I needed to shop now!!!

That, my friends, started my descent into belly of the shopping underworld, along with the the lying, hiding, and sheer desperation that drove me daily. It was world that knew no end to the aching shopping hunger. A world where all my sound logic (or my husband's desperate warnings) couldn't compete against the power of a new purchase. Yes, even a world where I lied to the people I loved about where I'd been, what I'd been doing, and how much I'd spent.

Suddenly, it wasn't enough for me to shop a few times a month. It became a weekly activity. But soon enough, even a week wasn't enough time to wait between purchases. Twelve hours wouldn't go by without a sufficient examination of the day's deals, new arrivals, and hot-off-the-press coupons.

And that's when the cold, hard truth hit me, not unlike the sting of icy water on your face on a dark winter morning when you realize that the hot water heater went out: I think I may actually be addicted to shopping! Not addicted in the fun, carefree, social way, like when you and your friends just love to get together and shop. But addicted in the unpleasant, chemically-dependent way, like when you only shop alone because you don't want any social interaction getting in the way of your fix. Nor do you want others to know how much you actually shop.

Wikipedia states that "The term "addiction" is used in many contexts to describe an obsession, compulsion, or excessive physical dependence or psychological dependence." It can also be "used to describe a recurring compulsion by an individual to engage in some specific activity, despite harmful consequences to the individual's health, mental state or social life."

But how does one know if they really have an addiction or just really just love to shop?The Recovery Group offers some valuable insight:

"Compulsive shopping and spending are defined as inappropriate, excessive, and out of control," says Donald Black, MD, professor of psychiatry at the University of Iowa College of Medicine. "Like other addictions, it basically has to do with impulsiveness and lack of control over one's impulses. In America, shopping is embedded in our culture; so often, the impulsiveness comes out as excessive shopping." Sometimes referred to as "shopoholism," shopping addiction can wreak havoc on a person's life, family, and finances...

While the origin of addictions remains uncertain, why addicts continue their destructive behaviors is better understood.

"Individuals will get some kind of high from an addictive behavior like shopping," says Engs. "Meaning that endorphins and dopamine, naturally occurring opiate receptor sites in the brain, get switched on, and the person feels good, and if it feels good they are more likely to do it -- it's reinforced."

So what are the telltale signs that shopping has crossed the line and become an addiction?

"There are certainly a lot of commonalities among shopoholics and other addicts," says Engs. "For instance, while alcoholics will hide their bottles, shopoholics will hide their purchases."
What else should a concerned family member or friend look out for when they think shopping has become a problem?

SPENDING OVER BUDGET: "Often times a person will spend over their budget and get into deep financial trouble, spending well above their income," says Engs. "The normal person will say, 'Oops, I can't afford to buy this or that.' But not someone who has an addiction," explains Engs -- he or she will not recognize the boundaries of a budget.

COMPULSIVE BUYING: "When a person with a shopping addiction goes shopping, they often compulsively buy, meaning they go for one pair of shoes and come out with 10."

ITS A CHRONIC PROBLEM: "A shopping addiction is a continuous problem," says Engs. "It's more than two or three months of the year, and more than a once-a-year Christmas spree."

HIDING THE PROBLEM: "Shopoholics will hide their purchases because they don't want their significant other to know they bought it because they'll be criticized," says Engs. "They may have secret credit card accounts, too. Because this problem affects mostly women, as alcoholism affects mostly men, husbands will all of sudden be told their wife is $20,000-$30,000 in debt and they are responsible, and many times, this comes out in divorce."

A VICIOUS CIRCLE "Some people will take their purchases back because they feel guilty," says Engs. "That guilt can trigger another shopping spree, so it's a vicious circle." And in these people, debt may not be an issue because they're consistently returning clothes out of guilt -- but a problem still exists.

IMPAIRED RELATIONSHIPS: . "It is not uncommon for us to see impairments in relationships from excessive spending or shopping," says Rick Zehr, vice president of addiction and behavioral services at Proctor Hospital at the Illinois Institute for Addiction Recovery. "Impairment can occur because the person spends time away from home to shop, covers up debt with deception, and emotionally and physically starts to isolate themselves from others as they become preoccupied with their behavior."

CLEAR CONSEQUENCES: "It's just like any other addiction -- it has nothing to do with how much a person shops or spends, and everything to do with consequences," says Zehr. "We often get the question around the holidays that because a person spent more money than she intended, does this make her an addict? The answer is no. However, if there is a pattern or a trend or consequences that occur with excessive shopping then the person may be a problem spender -- the hallmark is still loss of control. If they are no longer in control of their shopping but their shopping is in control of them, they've crossed the line."

Um, check, check, check, double check, check... It's not looking good for me so far...

According to Zehr, these behaviors can also signal a serious problem:

- Shopping or spending money as a result of feeling angry, depressed, anxious, or lonely
- Having arguments with others about one's shopping habits
- Feeling lost without credit cards -- actually going into withdrawal without them
- Buying items on credit, rather than with cash
- Describing a rush or a feeling of euphoria with spending
- Feeling guilty, ashamed, or embarrassed after a spending spree
- Lying about how much money was spent. For instance, owning up to buying something, but lying about how much it actually cost.
- Thinking obsessively about money
- Spending a lot of time juggling accounts or bills to accommodate spending

"If someone identifies four or more of any of these behaviors, there may be a problem," Zehr explains to WebMD.

Looks like I've got a clear-cut case of the shopaholic blues. I was definitely in trouble! I answered an emphatic "yes" to most of the above questions. Now I was starting to understand a little bit about the psychology of addiction. But what about the physiological effects?

Scientists say the reason we overeat is because our brain recognizes that we're full long after our stomachs. There can be a 20-minute gap between the time we finally feel satiated and the time we are physically full. The "happy" chemicals only kick in after it's too late. This results in a whole lot of unintentional shoveling of food into our mouths, which ultimately results in either an overfilled gut or an incessant guilt over not being able to drop those extra 5-10 pounds. Naturally, the generous portions at many restaurants do nothing to prevent an epidemic of overeating. Add to that the mental need to clean off our plates -- even plates that are purposely oversized -- and you're fighting an uphill battle. That's why nutritionists recommend chewing each morsel of food slowly, to both digest better and to really savor the taste of each bite.

The same with shopping. When you don't shop much, every little thing you buy and each little act of shopping pleases you enormously. When I used to shop a few times a month, I derived a good deal of delicious pleasure from the act. I knew it was a my well-deserved treat that I had budgeted for, and I treated it accordingly.

But I found that the more I shopped, the less time that supreme feeling of joy seemed to linger. At first, the endorphis surge through your body and you're dancing on air from the rush of excitement over scoring that fabulous find. Following the royal treatment you receive from your favorite store as you're paraded to the door by a bevvy of associates carrying your shopping bags, you feel like a queen as you transport your new gems from your car into your eagerly awaiting closet. The anticipation of wearing your new purchases as soon as possible combined with the sense of accomplishment over finally having found the perfect piece... these feelings make you feel like million bucks.

Inevitably though, like a caffiene-stimulated high, you find yourself crashing hard. The sweater that just joined your collection last week is already mixed in with your older, less exciting sweaters -- sweaters that once screamed "Wear me!" and made you giddy with happiness. You wonder if maybe you shouldn't have bought a new jacket to go with the new pencil skirt that still sits untested from 4 weeks ago. You're itching to hunt down that to-die-for pair of tall boots that you could have sworn you saw at Nordstrom... or was it Lord & Taylor? Suddenly, you're hit with the insatiable craving to shop. The only cure is another fix. And so the cycle repteats. Day after day, week after week, month after month.

Apparently, I'm not alone. Scientific evidence suggests that shopping begets more shopping. Get Rich Slowly points to marketing research done by Uzma Khan of Stanford, Ravi Dhar of Yale, and Joel Huber of Duke University, which measured consumers' shopping behavior:

"Setting up a series of tests of purchasing behavior, they found that for most people buying that fateful first — and often innocent — item seems to open the purchasing floodgates... These researchers indicate that shopping is a two-stage process.

First, a consumer deliberates over the need to purchase an initial item, weighing the pros and cons. Once this initial “deliberation phase” has ended — once a consumer has decided to buy one thing — the consumer deliberates less about subsequent items.

Essentially, once a person decides to buy one thing, this creates “shopping momentum”, increasing the likelihood that he will buy additional items. If you pick up an impulse item (like a magazine or candy bar) as you enter a store, this can serve as a trigger to encourage you to buy more."

Granted, there can occasionally be too much of a good thing. I'm not talking about the economics of shopping, either. I'm talking about the physical act of going out to stores for long periods of time, looking at tons of stuff, and actually experiencing an over-saturation of the activity. You know, that that exhausted, worn-out feeling, the telltale "shop till you drop" syndrome. The fatigue can be physical from just being pooped, or, it can be mental from having taken in way too much visual imagery during your shopping adventures. That's when you just want to pop in for a pampering pedicure, a cool drink, and a hearty meal.

There is even such a thing as being overwhelmed by too much online shopping. You know, when you've had about 12 windows open in your browser for days, spent hours hunting for that perfect item, comparing prices, and finally, trying to make a decision. There is a certain feeling of peace after you've finally chosen THE ONE, like a huge weight has been lifted from your shoulders. All of a sudden, you want nothing more than to close all the windows in your browser, kiss your significant other, play with your pet, and catch up on some non-materialistic reading.

I used to say to my husband after one of these episodes, "That's it. I'm all shopped out!" To which he would reply, "Don't lie, now." But I would assure him, "Really, that's it. I don't need anything else. I've found the perfect (fill in the blank)." And he would just sort of smirk, roll his eyes, and wait. For a week, two weeks, as long (or short) as it would take for me to decide that there was "just one more thing" that I needed. But after one of those episodes, I would make an earnest effort to avoid all manner of behavior that could lead me to shopping. Moreover, I genuinely wanted a break from the act. My body was tired. My mind was overwhelmed. I wanted to finally spend quality time with my family after being absent for so many lost hours, days, and weeks.

But like all addictive behavior, it's only a matter of time before the urge strikes again. No sooner had I picked up my car from the service shop the Friday evening before last -- after paying a hefty (and unexpected) $1,000 repair bill -- when, the next day, I embarked on the most awesome whirlwind of a bargain shopping tour in months. I finally hit the outlets with the full force of my recently paid-down credits cards (after which I had patted myself on the back and sent myself out for a "treat"). No longer able to resist the siren call of ridiculously cheap Coach, Kate Spade, Cole Haan, Burberry, and J.Crew goods, I sped out on the highway, barely avoiding several speed traps and not a few number of road hazards.

Coming home with several bags bursting with unbelievable bargains, you can imagine my raging endorphins and sheer exuberance over my incredible finds. I began to plot the ideal occasion at which to debut all my newest additions. I felt ecstatic about how inexpensive everything was. Surely I could justify all these purchases even in a stagnating economy. Heck, I was so good, I even picked up a brand new Coach wallet for my beloved -- a present I had been promising for a year but never came through with.

They say that recognizing you have a problem is the first step toward a cure. My first major sign was a big clue: not a full 8 hours after my massive spree, I shuddered in horror at the thought that I "forgot" I also needed to buy something else. After all the overstuffed shopping bags I had carried, the hours of tiresome walking outside, the 2 hours of driving, and all the lines I had stood in, not to mention all newly done damage to my poor credits cards -- I already felt the need to buy more! With all the willpower I could muster, I barely managed to fight down that urge.

But then I was filled with guilt. Had I not just spent several hours far from home, away from my family, against the wishes of my loving husband who kept calling me to come home so we could actually hang out on a Saturday night? Not to mention the huge chunk of change that had so easily slid away when I had slid my credit card through repeatedly without so much as an afterthought?

Then the shame kicked in. What on earth could I possibly do with 4 new purses when I already didn't use (or find room) for the other purses in my closet? And how could I have considered it a good bargain to spend $140 on a few small trinkets at the J.Crew outlet that I didn't even need, when I had been holding off on spending $100 on work clothes that I actually needed? Even worse, how could I keep looking my husband in the eye and telling him that we couldn't afford a new computer or TV right now when I had just bought the equivalent of both in the last 3 months alone?

Finally, I felt depressed. What was wrong with me that I couldn't shut off the switch in my brain that told it was time to shop? I was perfectly capable of making sound financial decisions in other aspects of my life. My job required me to help other people make important financial decisions . I should be more than capable of controlling my obsessive urges. I felt even worse because my religious guilt kicked in the next day as I found myself unable to face God at church. Were people not starving and going without clothes and shoes all over the world? How could I justify buying more and more and more while my fellow brothers and sisters suffered?

This time, I vowed to do something about my destructive behavior. Looking to the approaching period of Lent circled prominently on my desk calendar, I decided to do what I've often promised but never actually succeeded in doing: I would give up shopping for Lent. Placing my "shopping fast" in the hands of the divine, I felt a wave of solace wash over me as I solemnly swore an oath to not shop for 40 days.

What follows is a personal saga that chronicles my 40 days of non-shopping. Read my next post for a day-to-day account of my trials and tribulations on the road to recovery.