The Lamp: Reflections on the Self
Ever since I broke up with my girlfriend and moved into my own apartment, it's taken me a long time to get back on my feet. I kept guilt-tripping myself for not unpacking all the boxes, for having a mattress on the floor, for not hanging pictures on my walls. Steadily, however, I've been making my apartment my own.
When I first moved, I slept on an air mattress for several months. Now, I own a queen-sized bed, with a down pillow and comforter. When I first moved in, my walls were barren, but the other week C helped me hang some pictures. It felt quiet and unsexy, but it made my space that much more comfortable.
Because I process things slowly, it took me a long time to realize the guilt I felt about my living room was the same guilt that had stopped me from fully moving in. I kept telling myself that this guilt would eventually propel me to āownā my space, when in actuality, I wasnāt honoring the difficult, heartbroken feelings I associated with those boxes.
The Lamp
Yesterday, I decided to take a trip to IKEA. I walked through the store bit by bit, waddling between sections while repeatedly forgetting where I left my cart. Iāve been practicing intentionality, so when I saw an item I liked, I paused, held it, and considered whether I wanted to buy it. In the end, I bought only five or six items: a bowl whose deep-green color calmed me, a little blue bowl that felt good to hold in my palm, some long tea spoons, a potato masher, a rubber spatula, and, most exciting of all, a tray tableāor, as IKEA calls it, āGLADOM.ā
After loitering in IKEAās exit food court and eating not one but two hot dogs (one with onions), plus a yogurt ice cream, I decided to visit a nearby upscale shopping and dining centerāa place I used to visit often with my girlfriend. I had lived in the area once, and for months afterward found it impossible to come back.
I walked around the block, looked at the shops and the big Christmas tree, and noticed a store that hadnāt been open when I lived there: World Market. I decided to peer inside. I did a loop or two around the store, and the one item that caught my eye was a brass-looking floor lamp.
Itās difficult to explain, but for some reason I kept circling back to this lamp. I sat on a chair, looked away, then back at it, reassessing over and overātrying to interrogate myself. Do I like it? What do I like about it? What keeps drawing my eye to it?
I walked up to the lamp and checked the price tag. It was $120. Maybe because Iād just been at IKEA, but it seemed surprisingly reasonableāsomething Iād gladly pay for an object I genuinely liked.
I even talked it through with ChatGPT, trying to figure out what this conflicted feeling was. From what I could tell, itās difficult for me to buy something purely for the sake of it, with no strings attached. In my life, I tend to assign meaning to myself through my actions, though even that is selective.
It wasnāt really about the lamp. It was about whether I could buyāor not buyāsomething without it meaning anything at all. I knew, logically, that buying the lampāor notāwas not a referendum on my identity. Emotionally, however, I was stuck. Still, I noticed that I liked the lamp, and even that simple truth was difficult for me to accept.
Feeling frozen by indecision, I decided to walk around the area once more. I figured that putting some distance between me and the object might bring clarity. I walked a bit more and ultimately decided to drive home.
The Aftermath
The truth is, I was a little disappointed that I didnāt buy the lamp. The uncomfortable truth for my brain is that you can both like something and not buy it. There had only been one lamp in the store, so the stakes felt higher than they needed to be. On my drive home, I kept imagining it being sold, checking online, and calling myself stupid for not buying it then and there.
That evening, as I assembled my new GLADOM while watching The Princess Bride, I felt okay. I placed my Monstera plant on top of it and stepped back, admiring my handiwork.
Sitting on the ground, eating my Trader Joeās flatbread and watching the movie, my eye kept wandering to the leftāto the Monstera, and to what it represented to me. My space felt a little calmer, a little nicer, and I was the one who had done that. I felt glad.
I know now that it isnāt about getting or not getting the thing you want, but about learning not to assign it unnecessary meaning. Itās something Iāll continue to practice, lamp or not.
Written by me, tightened up/grammar fixed with the help of ChatGPT. Thank you for reading.