Consumerism; I’ve been on both extremes in my lifetime. In my teens and I would read all of the fashion magazines, gazing longingly at the “it purse” or pair of jeans, or embroidered boots of the season. I even went on to intern at InStyle magazine in New York City in my early twenties. My mother bought me a pair of Manolo Blahniks for my birthday that year. The same style Carrie Bradshaw wore in an episode of Sex and the City. I coveted them. Typing this now, I feel confused. Why did I covet “stuff” so much? Why do most people? Is it status or respect that we think we’ll earn if we wear this or drive that?

I don’t remember what shifted inside of me. Sometime after interning at InStyle, I changed. In New York City I would take my lunch breaks at brand name stores, spending the money I didn’t have. Maybe it was an article I read or a documentary I watched that spurred my shift, I can’t quite remember now. I started going down the rabbit hole of research learning about the true cost of fashion. The toxic dye runoff polluting rivers and oceans, the unsafe working conditions bordering on slavery, the lack of regulation in the industry of producing fashion, and other types of manufacturing. The more I researched, the more appalled I became. Why didn’t they teach this in my Textile Science or Business classes at college? Why doesn’t everyone know the true cost of fashion, of consumerism in general? We all know the answer: money. Nobody would buy a pair of jeans if they knew they were potentially linked to the suffering of another human or the death of animals. Okay, okay, some people still would, but not as many.

Just one year after living in Manhattan, my thoughts around consumerism shifted drastically. I even opened an eco-friendly and fair trade gift shop. For the decade I owned Green Envy I bought less and less for myself. My self worth stopped depending on what I owned or how I looked. It got so extreme that my heart wasn’t in selling eco-friendly products anymore. Even if a necklace is made from compostable materials, does anyone really need it? I like to say “I crossed the hippie line”. I learned about the zero waste movement. There are people who can fit their trash from a full year into a mason jar, people who haven’t used plastic in years, people who grow every bit of food they eat... and they’re happy fulfilled people. My mind was blown. This way of life was so new to me, even after owning an eco-boutique for 10 years.

I closed my shop and dove into the zero waste movement. For about 2 years I didn’t buy anything new except underwear and food. I’m serious, every tangible item I brought into my life was from a secondhand store, eBay, or my local Buy Nothing Group. While I will always recommend buying secondhand, it got a little too out of hand for me. I took it to the extreme. Extremes work for some people, it fulfills them. However, it brought me an unmanageable amount of eco-guilt. I would go months without an item that would really make my life easier because I wasn’t finding it secondhand. Every day my mind would swirl with thoughts like “If I drive 30 miles to pick up this used item or visit that thrift shop, does that cancel out the benefit of buying used?”. I would wake up and scan every Facebook group and marketplace I was in to try and find the item I needed. I would do this for hour every day. It was too much.

Finally it dawned on me. I’ve been educating people about how to make eco-changes in their lives in a fun, easy, and stress-free way, yet I was not doing this myself. Living in a more sustainable way consumed me, and not in a good way. I was swimming in guilt and anxiety. I was soothing other peoples’ eco-guilt by telling them small changes makes a difference, slip ups are okay, just do what you can without feeling overwhelmed. Yet I did not live by my own advice. It would be the end of the world for me to use one disposable cup. A story that makes me chuckle is, a friend put together a birthday beach picnic for me and brought solo cups for beverages. Instead of using one, I drank my cocktail out of a dive mask. While these experiences can be fun, I felt anxiety about using a solo cup, like it was directly going to kill every whale in the sea.

Another realization occurred to me, the old adage “You can’t pour from an empty cup.”. I needed to take more care of myself. The amount of time I was spending on anxious thoughts could be spent educating people about the methods I know can bring sustainability into their lives in a healthy and fun way. I needed to take my own advice. I hope that one day I’ll be as amazing as people like The Plastic Free Mermaid who not have used single use plastics for over 10 years, but for right now, I’m doing the best I can.

The moral of this story is that balance is necessary. Even if your intentions are the best they possibly can be, if you’re living your life out of fear, it’s not okay. Treat yourself kindly, you’re doing great.

Another realization occurred to me, the old adage “You can’t pour from an empty cup.”. I needed to take more care of myself. The amount of time I was spending on anxious thoughts could be spent educating people about the methods I know can bring sustainability into their lives in a healthy and fun way. I needed to take my own advice. I hope that one day I’ll be as amazing as people like The Plastic Free Mermaid and not have used single use plastics for over 10 years, but for right now, I’m doing the best I can.