Saving the Best for Now

Breaking my scarcity mentality one small act at a time

Twice yearly, I swap out my closet. Sometime in April, the sweaters, thick pants, and boots get packed away in large plastic bins. Shorts, sundresses, and sandals take their place in my closet, which is more of a “step-in” than “walk-in” (yes, this is a first-world problem). Then in October, the process gets reversed.

The great thing about this is that I have a short memory for the clothes that are packed away. Invariably, I unpack and am delighted to rediscover some cherished article that I forgot I had. It’s like going on a shopping spree in my own house. In fact, I have to put off any shopping for a new season until I unpack my bins to see what I have, what fits, and what I actually need. Otherwise, I’ll end up doing something silly like buying the same dress in the same color that I already own.

It also gives me the opportunity to notice what I wear, or perhaps more accurately, what I own and do not wear. There’s always something that I’ve held onto that I haven’t worn. Maybe it’s unflattering or no longer fits (my body or my needs). Those capri pants that I wore during all the pandemic Zoom classes and meetings got no love once I actually had to leave my house.

But there’s another category of clothes that often get little wear: items that I adore and want to hold onto for as long as possible. Sometimes these are “special occasion” clothes, like the yellow pleated satin skirt set that I got from Banana Republic two years ago, thinking I’d wear it for my anniversary or birthday. They can also be more casual clothing, like the peach Athleta racerback maxi dress that feels like a cold drink of water on a hot day, but that seems too fancy for errands and too plain for a night out. Every April, I promise myself that I’ll find an occasion to wear them this season. Then October rolls around and they’re going back in the bin, having been worn maybe once or twice, if at all.

For the past two months, I’ve been working through Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way. I bought the book six years ago. For six years, it was on my “priority reading” bookshelf, but I didn’t get around to it (there’s a pattern here, isn’t there?). In April, I decided that it was really time. At its basic level, the book is about nurturing creativity. It’s also about working through the hindrances that keep us from claiming our creativity as a priority, including beliefs about scarcity and abundance. I had no idea that a book on deepening my creative flow would help me confront my own scarcity mentality.

I tend to save things that I consider special: clothing, candles that people have gifted to me, the fine china we got for our wedding, the set of silver handed down from my great-grandmother. I even do it with food. But sometimes my intention to savor something backfires. The hard-to-find gluten-free cookies go stale when I keep them too long, scared that I might have a hard time replacing them. The sparkly shoes break down not from wear, but from time as they languish in my closet for years waiting for me to find the right occasion.

It’s the product of a childhood of scarcity, when things often couldn’t be replaced if they were worn out or damaged, when there was a very real likelihood that I might never get something again once I used it, and when I made my Christmas wishlist based upon what I could get the most use out of rather than what brought me joy.

Not to mention there’s a peculiar form of sadomasochism in activist circles where people derive a sense of self-satisfaction from depriving themselves of material goods and criticizing those enjoy such goods. It’s one of the problems with “privilege” language. We think that until “all God’s children got shoes,” none of us are supposed to have shoes. Or at least we aren’t supposed to enjoy the shoes we have. Our justice frameworks are all sackcloth and ashes, heavy on grief and self-denial but light on joy. The world needs more joy-based justice.

For the past few years, I’ve realized that it’s not enough to learn to care for myself. I also need to learn to celebrate myself. That means doing something special to mark special events or accomplishments, like getting tenure or getting a new book deal or turning fifty. But it also means allowing myself small pleasures on a daily basis. So this week, I lit candles while doing yoga, ate two cookies everyday, and wore the peach dress even when I had no plans to go anywhere. I’m no longer saving my best for last. I’m giving myself my best now.

When was the last time that you did something special just because? What’s one small thing you can do for yourself this week to combat the scarcity mentality and to celebrate God’s abundance?