When my depression started, I did not even realise I was depressed. I was confused more than anything else. I just felt emotionally exhausted, disconnected from myself, and uncomfortable in my own life.
Before that, I loved classic feminine clothes — knee-length Lindy Bop dresses, paperbag trousers, and soft sweaters. Nothing revealing at all. But I started feeling uncomfortable and wanted to hide myself from the world.
I began buying long-sleeved floor-length dresses, very modest clothing, even abayas and hijabs. I convinced myself that if I covered myself more, I would finally feel calmer and safer.
At the same time, I was shopping constantly. Not only clothes. I bought piles of self-help books promising confidence and happiness, crystals, essential oils, fairy lights, cute mugs, and things for my cat he never even liked. Looking back now, I realise I was not really buying objects. I was buying comfort, identity, hope, and the feeling that life might finally improve.
Some of the self-help books I bought made things worse too. They presented “perfect healing lifestyles”, aesthetic bedrooms, peaceful routines, wellness products, and endless messages suggesting you could buy a better version of yourself. It is very easy to fall into that trap when you already feel emotionally lost. Honestly, I am glad I never had social media during that time. I can only imagine how much worse it could have become.
Modern shopping culture feeds on emotional vulnerability. Fast fashion, boredom scrolling, dopamine shopping, “main character” aesthetics, and online trends constantly encourage people to reinvent themselves through buying more.
But none of it truly helped me. My wardrobe became cluttered, my bank account became emptier, and I still felt emotionally exhausted.
When I started feeling better, I realised something important: I did not need a completely new identity. I needed to feel like myself again.
I donated bags of things to the charity shop, cleared the clutter, and slowly rebuilt a wardrobe with clothes I genuinely loved. My favourite HOBBS and Lindy Bop dresses came back into my life again — but this time from a healthier place, not from fear. Now my wardrobe is simple and feminine again, and strangely, that simplicity brings me far more peace than all the “healing” purchases ever did.
Real healing turned out to be much quieter than self-help books promised. Sometimes it was simply making tea, tidying a shelf, sitting in sunlight, walking without my phone, repairing something instead of replacing it, wearing clothes I already loved in a different way, or spending quiet time with my cat.
Small things that still bring comfort often matter more than another emotional purchase.
If you recognise yourself in parts of this story, you are not weak or shallow. Emotional shopping often has very little to do with the actual objects. Sometimes we are trying to buy comfort, safety, identity, hope, or simply a temporary escape from emotional exhaustion.
When you are struggling mentally, you do not always realise what is happening. Sometimes depression looks less like sadness and more like confusion, emotional numbness, identity changes, or constantly searching for something that might finally make you feel better.
Real healing is often much quieter than the internet or self-help industry promises. It can begin with very small things: opening a window, tidying one shelf, sitting in sunlight, wearing clothes that genuinely feel like you, making tea, going for a walk without your phone, making the room feel calmer, or spending calm time with people and animals you love.
You do not need to build a completely new version of yourself to deserve peace. Sometimes healing is simply returning to the person you already were before the world became too heavy.
Related reading: