Why We Keep Consuming - Even When the Planet Can’t

 Blog 4 of the “Living in the Thoughtsphere” series



(This post follows Blog 3: Quietly Showing Up, where I reflected on small gestures and quiet participation in a time of collapse.)

There’s a weird kind of dissonance in scrolling through Amazon while thinking about climate collapse.

You know too much. You’ve read the reports. You’ve seen the images. And yet, you’re clicking through pages of things you don’t need. A new flashlight. A better phone stand. Some product you never thought about until just now.

And then, without thinking much, you buy it.

I’ve done this. Not once or twice — enough that I’ve stopped keeping track.

It usually happens when I’m tired, or frustrated, or vaguely uncomfortable in some way I can’t name. The purchase is a pressure valve. It doesn’t solve anything. It just gives me something to do with the discomfort.

At one point, I convinced myself I was being responsible. I switched to eco-friendly versions of things. I bought reusable bags, compostable packaging, stuff labeled “sustainable” or “ethical.” It felt better than doing nothing.

But over time, I started to see it for what it was:
An attempt to keep buying things, just with different branding.

The truth is, I wasn’t fixing anything. I was trying to escape the feeling that I was part of the problem.

I remember one afternoon, years ago, cleaning out a horse stall. I was working a job I didn’t love, in a place I couldn’t afford, surrounded by things I thought were supposed to make me happy. A boat. A big TV. Fancy vacations I couldn’t really afford. All of it carefully arranged to look like success.

What I felt instead was exhaustion. Not just physical, but mental. Emotional. Existential.

That was the first time I realized how much energy I was spending chasing something I didn’t even want. And how much money I was handing over to people who had no interest in whether I felt whole or not — just whether I kept spending.

I used to think the problem was bad consumption — cheap plastic, fast fashion, irresponsible packaging. Now I think the problem is the scale. The volume. The constant pull to get one more thing.

I’ve tried minimalism. Sometimes it helped. Sometimes it just turned into another project to manage. I got rid of things, then replaced them with slightly better versions. I read books about clutter. I made lists. I still bought more bins.

But something’s changed in the way I look at it now. I’ve stopped pretending the system is neutral. It’s not. It’s designed to make me feel restless, incomplete, and just a little bit behind — and then offer me something to fix it.

These days, I pause more often. Not always. But more.

I ask myself: Do I actually need this? Or am I just trying to avoid something I don’t want to feel?

That question doesn’t make me a better person. But it slows me down.

I still consume. Of course I do. I live in the same mess as everyone else. But I’m trying to do it with my eyes open.

That feels like a place to begins to treat

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