When Did I Become So Predictable?
Self deprivation for the sake of regularity.
I came to the realization that I embodied predictability when I refused to buy cinnamon dolce coffee creamer.
It was Fall of 2020, the year when time seemed to snail along and the seasons blended together. Each time an unusually high or low temperature would creep into the forecast, I could hear my coworkers echoing the same sentiment over and over, “Wasn’t it summer last week?” or “It can’t be spring yet!”
The year 2020 was both fast and slow, divisive and boring. At the time, I was about to graduate and coffee had become more of a necessity than a desire. Too cash-strapped to afford grocery pickup, my partner and I braved the aisles of a rather small grocery store near our home. Grocery shopping was akin to attending the funeral of a person whom you did not particularly know well.
No one made eye contact anymore. If I accidentally locked eyes with another human being who was not someone I was familiar with, I forced a smile and hoped the corners of my eyes would convey some sort of old-world politeness that had been forgotten.
The sea of shopping carts moved slowly. Arrows on the floor attempted to guide socially-distance traffic, but folks hardly noticed they existed. We finally made it to the dairy section after navigating the vast crowd.
I grabbed the vanilla creamer — like I was supposed to do. We got it every time. Same brand and same flavor. I placed it carefully into the back of the cart.
“It’s fall!” My partner said, “Why not try something different? There’s a cinnamon dolce flavor that looks pretty good. We should get that instead.”
“No, we always get the vanilla,” I responded, almost mechanically. It was the standard, average creamer. It did the job. Why change it? Why wish for anything but vanilla creamer?
My partner flattened their smile into a disappointed frown. I had picked up the vanilla creamer and inspected the label as though it would give me some answers. The contents of my shopping cart reflected the plainness I had always clung to for safety. Plain Lays chips. Regular Oreos — not double stuffed, Pillsbury crescent rolls (original, of course).
The dairy aisle was full of bold, fun flavors. Canned pumpkin spice cinnamon rolls with sweet cream cheese, sugar cookies tubes with orange and black sprinkles, and dozens of fall-themed milks and creamers.
For so long I had programmed my brain to be happy with the basics. I was more predictable than the weather. Trying something new or different meant there was a possibility of not liking it. But, in my unwillingness to try anything new, I had quit indulging myself.
I don’t mean indulging as in gorging but depriving myself of simple joys for the sake of remaining basic. Basicness was safe. It was all I had come to know. I couldn’t remember the last time I tried a new brand or a new flavor of a product that I buy regularly.
That evening I did indulge. I indulged. We got enough snacks to last us weeks. Everything was a different flavor or a new brand.
It’s easy to fall into a pattern of normalness and complacency. Even something as simple as grocery shopping can become programmed into our brain. We deny ourselves little pockets of joy and/or comfort because “it’s always been this way” or “that’s what my mom always did.”
I have skipped taking a hot bath on a Tuesday because a shower is quicker. I have passed the snack machine as my stomach growls because I don’t want to be judged for buying a honey bun. I even cut out the whipped cream atop my lattes because I didn’t see the other “adults” around me topping their drinks with it.
Forgoing self-care and comfort wins no prizes. I never missed the tiny bit of extra time I gained from not relaxing in a warm bubble bath. I was still hungry when I passed on the snack machine. I never lost any weight from skipping whipped cream.
I am graduating from a creature of habit to a creature of wholesome hedonism. Each day, we are reminded that tomorrow is not promised. Disrupt the norm. Buy the seasonal creamer. Out with depriving ourselves of the little things that make life special and in with practicing kindness for ourselves.
I think we could all use a little seasonal creamer right now.
Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to read my story! I appreciate all comments, questions, and constructive criticism. Do you find yourself skipping out on little pleasure a lot? Please share your stories in the comment section! I would love to hear your take.
