I was seven or eight when I went to Center Point Sabah for the first time with my two elder sisters. It was December; the mall was packed with people, too crowded that I felt claustrophobic. My sisters were fine; they were not bothered with the crowd. Hand in hand, all three of us walked among the crowd, led by my eldest sister who seemed to know everything about the shopping mall.
We entered a shop with a big SALE sign on its entrance, and inside was more crowded than outside. Everyone seemed occupied or rather possessed, with garments dangling on their shoulders and arms, hunting for more clothes. What’s so special about these clothes? I’d asked myself. Then in a split second, my two sisters left me—they were gone from my sight, dissolved in the crowd.
I had fifty-ringgit in my pocket, but I had no idea what to get, and all I could think of was to go back home. The crowd and the noise made me dizzy and anxious, so I sat at a corner, waiting for my sisters to find me. And from that moment on, shopping was not something I do for pleasure. However, to some people, shopping is an essential activity to express their tensions, to be lost in the catharsis of self-indulgence, and a way of rewarding themselves after working hard, earning their cash. Indeed, shopping can be beneficial psychologically speaking, but like chocolate, too much of it can be harmful (and chocolate can be expensive too!).
Chuck Palahniuk wrote in his novel, Fight Club, “the things you own end up owning you.” And I see shopping as an activity that could end up owning me (not to mention the materials we purchased). Despite hating crowded malls, I still shop—and there’s a sense of satisfaction I felt every time I walk out a store with the items in my hands, and it makes me happy. At times, I would feel guilty for spending money I don’t have, especially when buying things I don’t need. And then I would ask myself why? I realized that most of the time when I buy things I don’t need (but I want), I was merely want to impress people around me, especially the ones I dislike—this is pure vanity because in reality no one cares (except the ones who are drowned in materialism).
So, dear ones, have you ever asked yourself what shopping means to you and how materials have influenced your life? To me it’s like eating chocolate; it’s sweet and satisfying, but there’s always a risk of glutting it to the point of harming myself. Hence, balance is what I always strive for.
Think about it, and remember, don’t let the things you own, own you.
This piece was published in Breeze Magazine, November Issue.