Did ADHD Cause My Shopping Addiction?
For many, the word 'addiction' conjures images of substance abuse or other taboo behaviours. It's not a term we readily apply to our everyday actions, like shopping. The Cambridge Dictionary defines addiction as 'an inability to stop doing or using something, especially harmful'. Years ago, I would have scoffed at the idea that my shopping habits could be characterised as causing harm. Then I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder, and I realised just how harmful a little retail therapy can be.
In 2012, I had just turned 18 and was on the brink of finishing college after two years of emotional and academic struggle. My inability to concentrate and make friends had been a recurring theme in my school reports since primary school. I completed my International Baccalaureate course, but my university offers were rescinded due to poor grades in my chosen subjects. I left college with only my certificate and Facebook photo albums to remember the names of the people I studied with. Before results day, I had been working a zero-hour waitressing job all summer, earning a substantial amount of money for the first time. The physical demands of the job were intense, but being able to use my hard-earned cash to treat myself helped to keep my anxiety in check. While I enjoyed a night out like any other girl my age, I found more joy in something else: shopping.
Choosing shopping as a way to feel better instead of building friendships may seem desperate, but I've always found it hard to make friends. There has always been something that didn't quite click. It wasn't necessarily something they'd say, but I'd pick up on the subtle behaviours that told me everything. It would be how they'd appear disinterested while talking to you, looking past you instead of making eye contact as if they were searching for a way out. They would smile patronisingly, perhaps when I would get too excited and talk too fast (or too honestly). Social interactions made me paranoid and depleted, but going through bullying at every school I attended and being left out of groups my whole life can do that to a person.
I found comfort in shopping at Asos, PLT, Zara, and H&M. They were my replacement friends, and we kept in touch frequently. They sent me mail (that I ordered, but still) and regular emails (newsletters). I downloaded their apps and followed them on social media, but of course, the relationship felt somewhat one-sided. Luckily, the friendship benefits were enough to keep me happy. When my plans for University fell through, I was so low and had no one to talk to about it. Miraculously, I found a new path to pursue my desired career. I started an apprenticeship at a veterinary clinic to train as a nurse. It was even a better outcome than if I had gone to University. After a string of shitty events, I went into this new chapter strangely optimistic. I thought that my anxiety would have to take a back seat. Little did I know that working there would feel like being back in school, just with taxes and scrubs.
The treatment I received at that clinic made me feel like I was back in secondary school, though the perpetrators being adults made it impossible to digest. Over the three years, I worked and studied there, I hit new lows - mentally, I was in the gutter. I lost the ability to stand up for myself and started believing the unfair criticism thrown at me. It wasn't long before I turned to retail therapy again to chase the high of dopamine. If the head nurse shouted at me, I'd hit up Asos. If my boss made me cry in front of everyone, I'd head to Zara. Shit got real when I discovered my colleagues gossiping about me using the clinic mobile phone; I rewarded myself for getting through the day with a trip to Westfield.
At that time, I obtained my first credit card and overdraft. It was a slippery slope, but I told myself that I could be doing much worse. Predictably, the pleasure I felt from buying clothes was always short-lived, but the items were so cheap that I saw no reason to stop. I knew each shopping spree was a temporary fix, and I would have to repeatedly buy more items to feel satisfied and functional. Sometimes, I would even purchase things I didn't even want just to get excited about the notification that my package was out for delivery (unless it was Hermes). As cash access increased, so did my spending. Since I was living at home, it didn't take long before my mom started noticing and questioning my expanding wardrobe. My excuses and justifications became weaker and weaker - why does a girl who spends six days of the week in scrubs need so many clothes?
Living the dream, but paying for it!
I quickly became deceptive about my spending with my family and myself. Thankfully, witnessing family members struggle with debt prevented me from getting into major financial trouble, and I managed to pay my bills every month. However, I still faced some financial difficulties. As a veterinary nurse, I wasn't making much money, so living paycheck to paycheck while staying at home with minimal expenses made me feel like a failure. I should've been making the most of my situation instead of pouring it down the drain. Unfortunately, the thrill of buying new clothes overpowered my anxiety about money. The way I saw it, these were my "little treats", and they weren't hurting anyone. The notion of regulating my spending never crossed my mind. It subsided for a while when I changed jobs, but the old habit resurfaced quickly. There's nothing inherently wrong with the "little treat" concept; it's natural to want to cheer ourselves up after a hard day or reward ourselves for a job well done. The real question is when does it transform from a harmless treat to addiction?
In 2020, during the pandemic, I had to look hard at myself. Without the distraction of work and spending a lot of time at home, I noticed some patterns in my behaviour that I hadn't picked up on before in the work environment. I decided to talk to my doctor and then a psychiatrist, and I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD). I found out that the symptoms of this condition can look like depression and anxiety. As I read more, I discovered a theory about a lack of dopamine in people with ADD. While there's insufficient evidence to prove this, there appears to be a connection. People with ADD often seek out a dopamine boost to compensate; it might manifest as drugs, alcohol, food or, in my case, shopping. The puzzle really started to come together when I learned that those who have ADH/D suffer from emotional dysregulation. We may experience emotions more intensely, leading to behaviours, not in line with a 'typical' response. I will never invalidate my trauma, but this had me reflecting on the deep depressive episodes that followed every incident I experienced.
My shopping addiction is a shining example of how I struggle with impulsive behaviour, another key trait of ADHD. While I haven't completely lost control, resisting the urge has been more challenging than most people understand. It's even been difficult writing this post, knowing that many people would assume that my lack of restraint was a choice rather than a compulsion. Over the past few years, I've been working to understand and address my emotional and behavioural responses. Excessive retail therapy is not unique to those with this condition. A study published in the 2014 Journal of Consumer Psychology found that sadness often derives from a sense of being controlled by circumstances rather than being in control of them. In other words, we may try to regain a sense of autonomy amidst a chaotic or emotionally distressing period by shopping. We get to make all the decisions and choices, controlling the outcome of a series of events. Is the act of getting ourselves a "little treat" when we're sad engrained in us?
Whilst it can be argued that this shared experience proves we're all acting on an intuitive level, self-soothing to alleviate depression. It doesn't absolve us of the individual and collective responsibility we share for this harmful practice. Although I've been lucky enough to avoid debt, it could be easily gotten out of hand, and I still regret the money wasted over the years. I regret a lot of my actions that came about from my addiction, the lies and things I missed out on to obsessively scroll a feed of polyester. After my diagnosis, I learned new skills to cope with my condition, including curbing my shopping obsession. Here were some of my first steps:
Slowing down my consumption has benefitted my wallet, personal style and mental state.
I audited my wardrobe. Anything I hadn't worn in a year or didn't want was sold or donated. I was incredibly harsh.
I deleted shopping apps from my phone and unsubscribed from their newsletters and social media pages. Temptation had to go.
I stopped following/muted influencers who tended to post new outfits regularly, especially when they bought their clothes from fast fashion sites and the high street. I couldn't let myself be influenced anywhere.
I educated myself on the ethical and sustainable impacts of the fashion industry. Guilt is a great motivator.
If I felt tempted to browse the latest trends, I'd allow myself to browse and fill the basket. However, I would never check out because a) no fast fashion, obviously, b) the price would be ridiculous, and c) I weirdly still got satisfaction planning the outfits in my head and adding them to the basket. It was as if I had tricked my brain into thinking I had something new on the way, and it left me satisfied.
I embraced thrifting, clothes swaps, renting and borrowing clothes. Whilst it means consuming, it's on a more circular level.
It was a shock when I calculated how much money I had wasted on clothes I didn't keep for long or never wore. I still think about it to this day.
