It’s easy to make new year’s resolutions, but we tend to quit when it gets hard. In years past, I was not one to make any, realizing the futility. However, in honour of my ongoing recovery from addiction, primarily from sex and unhealthy relationships with men, I am more inclined to resolve to set clear boundaries, goals, or “bottom lines” (a 12-step term) these past few years. Because I have a supportive network and a program of recovery that I practice on a daily basis, I am better able to stick to my self-determined bottom lines, or, in this case, my new year’s resolutions.
Bottom lines are behaviours that we aim to completely avoid for a period of time, or forever. One such example of a permanent bottom line for me is watching pornography. I don’t do it, and I don’t plan to return to it, as I find it unhealthy and ultimately damaging to my sexuality and overall sense of well-being. Many of my bottom lines, however, are only in place for a period of time.
For me, when romance and sex are absent from my life, as they are now, I automatically turn instead to shopping. I like to buy clothes, furniture, household items, hair products, and all manner of things that I don’t usually need. Shopping is not something I want to stop now and forever more, so I have added it to my bottom lines for a period of three months. This amount of time is likely to create a lasting change in how I think and feel about, and behave with, shopping.
To begin, I set clear boundaries for what I can and cannot buy. For example, I can buy groceries, but not clothes. I can buy cleaning products, but no new ones, only refills. The novelty of a new and different item can be addictive, even an item as unfun as a cleaning product.
Next, I state the bottom line—no non-essential shopping for three months—to my recovery network and other people I am close to. I create accountability for myself. To test my own level of seriousness I agreed to a deal with my cousin, who I live with. If I break my bottom line, I have to do all the dishes for an entire year. I know I am ready to let go of shopping, otherwise I would not have made the deal, and I am willing to live with the consequences should I fail.
I am clear and open to others about what I am doing, I have created accountability, and I have a strong deterrent from breaking this bottom line.
Perhaps most importantly, however, I have compelling reasons to stop compulsive shopping: I don’t want to feel powerless over how I spend money. I want to save money and one day spend it consciously, on, for example, a house. I also want to be more aware and thoughtful in my day-to-day spending so I don’t contribute to things like animal testing for cosmetics and child labour.
At the end of the day, I’m doing this because I want to recover from addiction in all its various forms—not because I have to, but because I know the value of recovery. When we are addicted, we are enslaved. We suffer and we contribute to the suffering of others in one way or another. Freedom can be ours if we are willing.