Why Do We Save The Good Stuff?

Maybe it comes from our parents or grandparents. The good china that lived permanently behind glass. The towels nobody was allowed to use. The bottle of something lovely that stayed unopened for so long it eventually went off.

Or maybe somewhere along the way we picked up the idea that ordinary life isn’t quite important enough.

We’ll wear it when we go somewhere nice.

We’ll open it when someone comes over.

We’ll use it for a special occasion.

We’ll enjoy it… later.

But I wonder how much of life we accidentally put on hold while we’re waiting for later.

The special occasion problem

We tend to think of special occasions as the obvious things.

Birthdays. Weddings. Christmas. Holidays. Anniversaries.

But you woke up this morning.

Someone you love might make you laugh today.

You might sit outside with a cup of tea and feel the sun on your face.

You might have an entirely unremarkable Tuesday that, years from now, you would give absolutely anything to have back.

One of my daughters once said to me when she was little:

“We don’t know how many blinks we have left.”

It was one of those wonderfully strange things children say that makes you stop for a second.

Because she was right.

We don’t.

We don't usually recognise the precious bits while we're living them.

They just look like ordinary life.

And perhaps that's the point.

We do it with more than things

This isn't really about candles, is it?

We save the good clothes.

We save the nice food.

We save the expensive bottle of perfume.

But sometimes we save other things too.

The trip we'll take one day.

The hobby we'll start when life calms down.

The place we'll visit when we've got more money.

The thing we've always wanted to learn.

Even rest can become something we're going to allow ourselves once everything else is done.

And there is always something else to be done.

Sometimes we even save versions of ourselves.

I'll wear that when I've lost weight.

I'll go swimming when I feel more confident.

I'll have people over when the house is finished.

I'll take the photograph when I look better.

I'll start when I'm ready.

And slowly, without really noticing, we can start treating the life we're living now like the waiting room for the one we're eventually going to enjoy.

What are you waiting for?

I'm not suggesting we all abandon responsibility, empty the savings account and eat Christmas dinner on a Wednesday in April.

Although, frankly, I'm not entirely against the last one.

It's more about noticing the tiny ways we postpone pleasure because today doesn't feel important enough.

You don't need visitors to use the nice plates.

You don't need somewhere fancy to wear the earrings.

You don't need a celebration to light the candle.

And you certainly don't need to become a thinner, richer, more organised or more confident version of yourself before you're allowed to enjoy your own life.

There will always be reasons to wait.

But there are also reasons not to.

Before you go…

Have a look around.

Is there something you've been saving for best?

A candle you don't want to waste?

Clothes you're waiting for an occasion to wear?

Something lovely tucked away in a cupboard?

Use it.

Life doesn't become special because we save the good stuff for another day.

Sometimes the good stuff is what reminds us that today counts too.

Light the candle.

Wear the fancy earrings.

Today will do.