Retail Therapy

     

       I've long enjoyed shopping as an outlet. A time away from home, searching with a purpose or wandering "just looking," shopping has been a way to pass time for me when I have it to spare. Even when I am rushed though I have found that I look forward to hunting for deals, planning ahead for gifts and bringing home purchases to sort.
     After Griffin died there was not much of anything I enjoyed, least of all shopping. In Grief, simple pleasures were replaced by complacency, as I was much better suited to sitting home wallowing than I was to be pushing a cart walking through a store. The fun of life was lost for a time and I found myself disinterested in the everyday needs of the house- milk and bread and pullups and toilet paper- as well as anything fun such as a looming 2nd birthday for our youngest daughter.
       There were sparks of my old self attempting to light a fire within me, days I would begin to find the joy I once knew under the fluorescent lighting of a store. It just wasn't easy to be motivated to appear in public that way, with the same energy and to endure small triggers for Grief sitting on shelves all around.
       The first time I went was to look for funeral attire. I took the whole family, spent an hour in a fitting room trying on dresses but hiding really from the bustle that surrounded me, the world spinning too quickly for me to hold on. Grief was much too raw to be seen like this, without makeup on my puffy face, empty arms crossed around a poochy-postpartum belly. I bought too many dresses, lugging the bags home and staring at things in my full-length mirror before stuffing them all in the plastic to return to the store unworn and unwanted.
      The next few times were familiar places, favorites even, but again without that inner desire to shop I struggled. Racks loomed long and meaningless, I shifted the hangers and went on my way empty-handed many times. Slowly now it has come back to me, this coupon-clipping urge and ad-reading mentality. Silly as it might be to say it, I have been missing my retail therapy.
      A grocery store stock-up trip turned the corner for me, some great deal to be had on boxes of dinosaur oatmeal or bacon. Next I found myself quickening my step to a drug store for a buy-one get-one on wipes and pull ups, the one item we always need, aside from milk. Before I knew it I was feeling the want to look again and being drawn to places for the fun of it.
       Yesterday was such a day. In search of a dress to wear at a wedding next month, I slipped into a corner department store. There I stumbled into a dizzying high that saw me bringing home six shopping bags of baptism, birthday, holiday, baby shower gifts and a few things for me, just because. It was therapy alright! I was back in business with the best of them- calculating prices in my head, busting out the coupons and rewards to make it the cheapest I could. It seemed a race by the end, trying to take the hangers off the items as quickly as the cashier was ringing and stuffing them into bags.
       I don't say 'high' lightly. I was running on a caffeine buzz and had shopped over my lunch, giving me jittery hands and palpitations. I felt a little like a junkie, all greedy and bug-eyed over the binge I was clearly on. And it felt so good, good to be excited about something I used to enjoy. Good to be able to look at little boy clothes without tearing up. Good to be able to plan ahead for my girls, for our lives, without being mired at home, dwelling on the past.
       A deal always feels good to me. Not exactly the same when it comes to my husband but he dutifully helped carry in and did not make one peep as I sat and sorted sizes and gender, kids from adults. Smart one he is, or maybe well trained, knows that he shouldn't interrupt when I'm in a good mood, even if it comes from a dubious drug.