"Regrets sur ma vieille robe de chambre"

Diderot penned his ever-relevant "Regrets for My Old Dressing Gown"in 1768. The essay explores the discord of a space or a life when one simple item is exchanged for a luxurious version of itself. To my curious mind I'm unsure how much of it is hyperbolic metaphor and how much of it is real, but I do know Diderot literally bought his way into debt pursuing finer things in life (insert The Office (US) gif here). His spree began with a new robe--one purchased, the bright scarlet robe stood out in his abode like a red flag to all the worn, well-loved, and still-useful-but-dull items all around him. The armoire was perceived to be unsuitable; the handmaid art of a known friend (who had repaired said art when needed) was pushed aside for some new, more "impressive" art; the empty wall suddenly needed to be covered with a fancy clock. He goes through a litany of household items he either relegates to more hidden parts of his place as he replaces them or entirely new purchases.

Upon waking he dons his beautiful new gown, stares around at the beautiful new art, and gets up to begin his day when he comes upon the last bit of "original mediocrity" in his house: a simple rug. He feels it at odds with everything else he's thrown into his place.

While he goes on to explore more of the psychology of what he has, what matters, and what he can never have but cherishes still, the overview I shared above is the crux of the "Diderot effect." The Diderot effect is where acquiring a new possession starts a cycle of further purchases, as the new item makes existing possessions seem inadequate. The end of the cycle is debt, incurred by increasing purchases of non-necessities beyond one's means and general over-consumption.

In reflecting on my annual goals and hopes for the year, I found myself checking off things I had done and adding little indicators next to new line items for things I did that supported the general sentiments for goal areas but hadn't planned on doing. One of my biggest wishes was to tackle redoing my fireplace. I will admit a combination of fear and dread contributed to this--I want to build something up to code, but for costs' sake need to DIY it. But carrying the volume of stone I'd need for a proper hearth is... not a realistic goal given I'm on a second-floor walkup. And then there are elements like considering a bigger firebox, how I'd want to adjust electrical for the entertainment unit above it, finding salvage or reclaimed materials to reduce my environmental impact and save my money.

Instead, I wound up adding new things like some necessary (and some unnecessary) appliance replacements, refinishing an upgraded bookcase and reorganizing my books, refinishing various pieces of furniture, and investing my remaining mental energy into things I'd planned on doing, but for which I didn't properly budget myself. I told myself to get back into therapy and did so right at the onset of a peak season of turmoil. I made a huge life change just a few months into it.

Most importantly, I really found myself in a position where I had to trust in God. As I kicked my summer off in a Knowing God study, I was often reminded of lessons learned when I'd started a Trusting God study some years ago with my church's women's ministry. These lessons were amplified by my foray into Johnny Ardavanis' Consider the Lillies and John Mark Comer's The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry, both of which I have yet to finish...

But I did finish at least 24 novels, so that was fun. And I spent time sewing this year, after gifting myself a cheap machine from the Joann's closeout sales: I mended one dress, hemmed one dress and two pairs of pants (flared yoga pants and denim), sewed four berets for my nieces for Christmas (far from perfect, as I made two too small and then two too large, but hey, they're kids!), and a dress from scratch (going straight to the dress up bin for my nieces... lesson learned: ALWAYS start with a mock!).

I also did check of long-standing items on my list, like painting a mural in my bedroom, getting more seating for my living room (which I proceeded to make my absolute NEST and it's now the #2 spot to fall asleep in my condo). I put some trim on my front windows, I redid my headboard, got into Pilates (though now that I'm without gainful employment, will probably need to pause that membership...), got some new rugs for my living and dining room, thrifted more, installed shelves and organized the guest room and coat closets, and went to Europe (finally!) again.

And yet, I look around feeling a sense of "___ should be changed/improved/redone/better." I lay awake at night wondering if I should have done more around my house, at my job, socially, general reflection and introspection. Here I think I find myself struggling with a second application derived from the Diderot effect.

Sure, I struggle with the Diderot effect most literally because now that I've got this huge provincial, aged, wood bookcase, I really don't like my West Elm Mid Century Dining Table set I got on Facebook marketplace. My new oversized, cloudy, and velvety chaise lounge makes me look at the cold leather couch (a couch I desired for MONTHS before I pulled the plug!) with a sour taste in my mouth... cold cognac leather?! Get me my wool blanket and down throw pillow, please.

In my years' long cycle of burnout, depression, and recovery, I've found myself trying various activities to help manage dopamine supply while being alone (to build energy as an introvert and give myself room to think). Unfortunately, retail therapy/compulsive shopping is such a reliable source of dopamine. This year, I found I was priding myself on thrifting and antiquing as I was doing it in a more economical and sustainable way. But I was still buying things I didn't need and have yet to put to use (sure, a digital store to resell curated thrifted finds sounds fun, but I know it'll be a lot more squeeze than the juice is worth, probably).

But the Diderot effect speaks to general longing and dissatisfaction. While his essay explores desire of physical things, I've found myself hungry for more and more internal growth. Jumping into therapy I found myself thinking "I should be over this!" despite knowing that trauma is like walking on the shore--feelings and reminders come in waves and tides, not wading in a kiddie pool. Identifying negative patterns and changing my engagement to establish a first-ever boundary still left me longing, sad, and wishing I didn't have to do so. Like the elder prodigal son, I find myself struggling with pride for patience and obedience... near envious when someone who has "done less" is blessed by the Lord.

The more I try to grow in godliness, the more I realize 'tis a Sisyphean task and find myself displeased with my progress.

And yet, God is good. God is and has been and will be more than enough for me, and His ways and Truth will allow me to grow anyways. I cannot be displeased at His timing, for He knows all things. This coming year I want to remind myself that:

1. I can take the next step

2. He will make my paths straight (Proverbs 3:5-6)

3. I am to listen to the word

4. But also be a doer of the word (James 1:19-25).

I have set up a whole little plan and reflection for myself including a "phrase" for the year grounded in scripture, explicated what that Scripture means for my identity, documented where I saw God working this year, what I'll be bringing into the next year, and my focus for 2026 (from faith, health, and character perspectives).

While the dreamer in me will always, always want more...

...I know that God will always, always be more than enough. One day, I'll never want for anything. What a blessing and joy that will be!