I have difficulty with scarcity. Scarcity is not my friend and I am not sure what the basis is. It isn’t clear to me where the trauma lies in my life that has made me as sensitive to scarcity as I am. I don’t think that I have a strong desire or concern to acquire much beyond what I have. I don’t rush out to get new things. But I am anxious about running out of things that I routinely use. One of those things I normally rely on is the kind of food I eat.
This is on my mind today because I made my first early morning trip to Cub since the beginning of March. Two items that are part of my routine are distilled water for my CPAP and imitation crab for salads. I like to have them available and neither of these items are carried by Trader Joe’s, the one grocery store I go to once a month.
I am very aware of their scarcity. Every morning when I refill the reservoir on my CPAP machine, I think about how much distilled water I have left. I feel the sensation of scarcity in my body. My mind goes to a quick review of how much is left in the container. A friend of mine has consistently gotten two gallons of distilled water for me when she goes to Cub and I request a refill. She is a reliable supplier. Yet,I have a deep concern about my scarce distilled water.
I haven’t figured it out, but there is a deep unease about being dependent on others to make adequate distilled water available to me. The feeling of scarcity has a deep hold on me, and I cannot see the roots of it all. Today, my solution was to give myself permission to venture out into the COVID world and visit Cub early in the morning. I brought home four gallons of distilled water. Those four gallons are strangely reassuring to me, but it is more reassuring to know that I was able to do it, and can do it again sometime in the weeks to come.
I also brought home a good supply of imitation crab and an assortment of other items it is nice to have in my pantry should I need them. But none had the same hold on me as being able to bring home the scarce distilled water. Nothing else motivated me, almost irrationally, to show up at Cub at 7:15 this morning.
The roots for this anxiety about scarcity are not at all clear to me. My family was poor and we lived a life of scarcity, but there was nothing I would call painful want or need. We had an adequate supply of food. While I learned not to waste food or anything else, it hardly seems like I experienced anything traumatic because of our normal experience of scarcity.
So I think about my current, on-going relationship with scarcity. I try to keep a moderate supply of items, particularly food, that I want to have on a regular basis. I am a little surprised about the satisfaction I feel about my adequate supply of food. I am grateful that I have the option of maintaining an adequate supply. But I am still far from becoming a friend of scarcity.