Are You Saving or Savoring?

I grew up in the era of fine china saved for occasions that never came, and formal living rooms no one was allowed to sit in — a whole generation preparing for a party that never quite happened.

Turns out I never outgrew asking why. In this Nudge episode, I follow that question somewhere I didn't expect — from the stuff in our closets to the beliefs and dreams we've quietly packed away and stopped looking at altogether.

What are you saving instead of savoring? I have a hunch, by the end of this episode, you'll have some unexpected answers, too.

www.annmarieboyle.com

Music from Uppbeat (https://uppbeat.io/t/soundroll/to-the-top), License code BC9SEN3G6PMABOA

Transcript

0:02

Welcome to I Used to Be Fun, the podcast about remembering who you were before life got so serious. I'm Annmarie Boyle, author, creativity instigator, and recovering overachiever, and each week we explore how reconnecting to creativity and play helps us feel more alive, inspired, and like ourselves again. So set down the to-do list, grab a cup of coffee, and let's go find some fun.

Annmarie 0:39

I am smack dab in the middle of Gen X, which means my formative years encompassed the entire decade of the '80s. I grew up with Cabbage Patch Kids, the Thriller album, Trapper Keepers, the launch of the Rubik's Cube, and a high school locker area that smelled vaguely of Aquanet because no one wanted all that hair teasing to go flat by fourth period. It also means I grew up in a time of fine china that was being saved for special occasions that never seemed to materialize, and formal living rooms that no one was actually allowed to sit in. Maybe you also remember vacuuming the carpet into those perfect little lines, straightening the pillows, and then closing the door, or wondering about those towels no one was supposed to dry their hands on. Did you also have fancy soaps shaped like seashells that apparently only existed to be admired? I mean, looking back, it feels like an entire generation was preparing for a party that never quite happened. And while parachute pants are, thankfully, mostly in the rearview mirror, one thing I did carry with me was the conviction that life is too short to own things that never get enjoyed, which constantly makes me wonder, what else in our lives are we saving instead of savoring? Years ago, I had a brief stint as a professional organizer. Side note: this is also proof that not everything you're good at needs to become a business I had two rules during that foray that I almost never bent. The first one was this: if you pack something in a box and you haven't opened that box in over a year, there's a pretty good chance you don't need whatever's inside. The second rule was even more non-negotiable. If something is packed away where you can never see it or use it, it deserves a decision, because the things that we bring into our lives are meant to be part of our lives. So during this time, I framed concert T-shirts instead of letting them yellow in storage bins. I created beautiful displays from collections of shells gathered over decades of family beach vacations. And I also helped people say goodbye to things they insisted they couldn't possibly part with, even though those treasures had been living in damp cardboard boxes in spider-filled basements for over 15 years. Turns out we can become oddly sentimental about things we don't actually have a relationship with anymore. And here's the thing, I still live by those rules. Now, before anybody starts giving me the buts, and you know the buts I'm talking about, the, "But I was gonna use that someday," or, "But my kids or grandkids might want that." I'm not talking about the Christmas dishes that come out every December. Mine do too. Or the photo albums you pull out only once every few years. I'm talking about the plastic storage bin under that guest bed that you open and immediately think, "Wait, why do I even have this?" Those are very different things. But once I started noticing this pattern in people's homes, I couldn't stop seeing it everywhere. You know what I'm talking about. We save the expensive notebook because we haven't thought of the perfect thing to write in it. We save the nice candles, the fancy bottle of wine, the beautiful stationery, the art supplies, the jacket we'll wear when we lose 20 pounds, or the vacation we'll take once things calm down. Sometimes I think we even save joy until we've convinced ourselves we've earned it. And I don't know about you, but that feels like a terrible investment strategy. And the more I think about it, the more I realize this isn't just about stuff. It's about all the invisible things we keep tucked away, too. Things like beliefs and dreams and ideas and versions of ourselves And about those beliefs, some of them are basically the mental equivalent of that mystery storage box. We've packed them away years ago, and we've been hauling them from house to house ever since. Things like, wait for it, you're gonna recognize some of these. I'm not creative. I'm too old. That's one of my favorites. I've missed my chance. People don't like me because... We don't even remember where some of those beliefs came from. We've just gotten so used to carrying them around. And then there are the dreams, the ones like you're gonna learn that language. You're gonna take guitar lessons. There's that pottery class you've always wanted to take, or how about that garden you dug out and then never planted? And you didn't get to any of these things because you necessarily changed your mind. It just felt like life kept asking you to wait a little longer. And I wonder how many parts of ourselves ended up in storage that way, not because we wanted them there, but because we got busy becoming responsible. Now, if you've been listening to this podcast for any length of time, you know I'm not interested in blowing up perfectly good lives, and most of us already have those good lives. I'm simply interested in asking the kind of questions that help us inhabit our lives a little more fully. So I hope this is one of those questions that will help you do that. What are you saving instead of savoring? Maybe it is something physical. Maybe it's something emotional. Likely, it's both, because maybe it's the yarn sitting in your craft room from that knitting phase that lasted exactly three Saturdays. By the way, if that's you, today is a great day to either pick up the knitting needles or donate the yarn to someone who'll make something beautiful with it. My mother's next-door neighbor crochets hats for women who've lost their hair in the chemo process. She would gladly take your yarn. And here in Minneapolis, there's a place called The Textile Center, and they have a great creative reuse shop where donated supplies are sold to fund their classes and community programs. It's a great idea, and by giving your yarn to something like that, something you thought you'd use can become the beginning of someone else's creative adventure. And I'm willing to bet there's a place like that somewhere near you as well. Or maybe it isn't yarn or something physical at all. Maybe it's the belief that you're not creative. And I wonder what would happen if you simply changed the question. Instead of asking, "Am I creative?" What if you asked, "What did I create this week?" Because maybe you baked bread. Maybe you designed a spreadsheet that made your team's life easier at work. Or maybe you figured out how to get a toddler to eat broccoli without negotiations worthy of an international peace treaty. Creation has always been so much bigger than paintbrushes. Or maybe the thing you're saving is a younger version of yourself. That 20-year-old body, the energy she had, the knees that didn't make strange noises every time she stood up. Trust me, I understand. Neck wattle is not for the faint of heart. But I also wonder, what if instead of comparing ourselves to who we were, we thank that younger version of ourselves? Thank you for carrying me this far. And then we turn toward the woman we are now with just a little more wonder, because this version has weathered things that 20-year-old couldn't even imagine. So maybe savoring isn't always about doing something extraordinary. Maybe it's simply paying attention and using the things that we have that bring us joy, like pulling out the dishes, lighting the candle, using the good watercolor paper, putting on the earrings that have been waiting for the, quote, "right occasion," or calling the friend, taking the walk. Creativity has never really been about making masterpieces anyway. Sometimes it's just choosing to participate in your own life instead of waiting for a better version of it to begin. So today, I'm not leaving you with homework, just one question: Is there something in your life that you're saving for someday when maybe it's meant to be savored today? Now., I don't know what came to mind for you while we were talking. Maybe it was a thing, an idea, or a version of yourself. But whatever it was, I just want you to get curious enough to pull it out into the light, because I have a really deep feeling that most of us aren't actually lacking joy. We've just accidentally put some of it into storage.