May Baskets, Money, and Meaning

I saw my therapist last week and found myself talking about something that has been on my mind a lot lately—my spending. More specifically, the way I sometimes use spending as a coping skill.  I told her I’m starting to see it for what it can be: a maladaptive coping mechanism. Even though I often frame it as something good—thrifting for others, picking up little things to brighten someone’s day—there are times when it crosses a line. And if I’m honest, I can feel when it does.  

So I challenged myself.

I took a week and vowed not to spend. No stopping at my favorite Goodwill. No wandering through Dollar Tree (or as I recently heard an influencer call it—the “five quarter store,” which honestly feels about right these days). Just a pause from the extra, the unnecessary.

And I did it.

Nothing bad happened. Truly. It was okay. And I felt proud of myself for showing that I do have self-control.  

During my session, I shared that my latest thrifting finds have been books. As a therapist, I use bibliotherapy with clients who find reading to be soothing. So I find myself in the book section of Goodwill, looking for those meaningful reads—the ones that have gotten me through hard seasons or that I often recommend to others. At this point, I have a tote full of multiple copies of some of my top books.  My long-term dream is to create a little mental health library in my office. A place where someone can pick up a book, read it, bring it back—or pass it on to someone else who needs it. The full vision isn’t quite there yet, but I can feel it forming. And if I’m being really honest, part of my thrifting lately has been searching for the perfect shelf to bring it all to life.

My therapist encouraged me and reminded me of something I say to my own clients all the time: awareness is the first step, and it’s a good sign. I know what I’m doing. I can acknowledge when it becomes a problem or gets in my way. And I’ve proven to myself that I do have self-control.  I shared with her that my “ah-ha” moment came after I spent a large sum of money at Dollar Tree. She simply asked, “What did you buy?”  And I kind of sheepishly said… May basket supplies.

It might sound silly, and I know not everyone will understand, but May baskets hold some of my brightest childhood memories. I remember making them in school, making them with my mom. I remember her receiving them from the preschoolers she taught over the years. I remember making them with my own kids and watching their excitement as they shared them with others.  So yes—I spent. And spent. And spent all the dollars on making May baskets.  And just like I predicted, it brought me so much joy.  It also started conversations with people who had those same sweet memories. It created connection. It felt meaningful.

My therapist smiled and shared that she once told her adult kids no more Easter baskets—maybe trying to tighten the budget a bit—but that only lasted a year. She realized how much joy it brought her and went right back to it.  I smiled, because my kids are in their 20s and I still do Easter baskets. And stockings. And May baskets. And yes, we still believe in the magic of Santa.

Then she reminded me of something important—something I needed to hear that day and probably for many days to come:  I need to give myself grace.  Not just in the moments where I’m trying to have more self-control, but also in the moments where I choose joy. Because this isn’t as simple as “spending is bad.” There are times it becomes a coping skill that gets in my way—but there are also times it’s tied to connection, tradition, generosity, and love.  I think the real work for me is learning the difference.  And maybe holding space for both.  

Awareness and joy.  

Discipline and grace.  

Both can exist. And I’m learning how to live in that balance.