Last month I was reorganizing my closet and found a candle that I had completely forgotten about. It was expensive and beautifully packaged – the kind you get as a gift and immediately think, “I’m saving this for something special.” According to the missing receipt still in the box, I’ve had it for four years.
In the current year, the collection of dust, to smell it had weakened and the wax was starting to turn yellow. I haven’t had a chance to clarify it yet.
This discovery led to others. As I continued to clean, I found 2019 stationery still wrapped in cellophane, a bottle of wine someone brought to a dinner party I barely remember, and a silk scarf with tags still attached, waiting for an outfit or event that apparently never happened. I stood there holding the candle, feeling a little silly and wondering what exactly I was waiting for.
Why do we save good things?
I half-jokingly told a few friends about it, and each of them had their own version. A friend shared that she had “guest towels” that no guest had touched. My sister owns china plates that she has used twice in 30 years. I know people who have bottles of perfume that they’ve been using since college and were convinced that some future event would finally justify their use.
I understand the logic. These things are finite and there is something about using them that feels like losing them. We hold back because we tell ourselves we’ll admit it when the moment is right. The problem is that the right moment has not arrived, and in the meantime the candles are extinguished, the wine returns, and we are years past the things that used to bring joy.
The psychology behind expectation
Psychologists offer several explanations for why we do this.
One factor is loss aversion. Kahneman and Tversky research on decision making revealed that we feel losses twice as much as equal gains (1979). Lighting a candle means losing it and using stationery means having less of it. Although the use of these things gives us pleasure, the expected loss is more severe, leading us to an indefinite delay.
Another factor is what researchers call scarcity thinking. Mullainathan and Shafir’s (2013) work on scarcity suggests that when we perceive something as limited, we become vigilant in protecting it, sometimes to the point of never using it. The candle becomes a source of storage and we forget that it is meant to burn.
And then there’s a third explanation that’s a little more troubling. Terrorism management theorydeveloped by Greenberg, Solomon, and Pyszczynski (1986) suggests that reminders of our own mortality can induce dieting behavior. An elusive candle is not just a candle. It’s a way to freeze time. As long as it sits there unused, I don’t have to face it as my days go by. If I never turn it on, I pretend I have unlimited tomorrows to turn it on.
What we really say
What I’ve learned is that every time I put a nice candle in the closet, I’m making a decision about today. I decide that it doesn’t count that I haven’t gotten the good stuff yet and that my special holiday is still somewhere in the future.
Over time, this message becomes a habit and we live in a state of constant procrastination, waiting for the next version of our life that finally deserves good things.
And here’s what’s hard to say out loud: this future is not guaranteed. We know it because we write it on condolence cards and say it at funerals, but we don’t always live to believe it. A candle doesn’t last forever whether I light it or not, and the question is, will I find joy in it before it’s gone?
Important readings for decision making
Today is a special day
I don’t recommend burning everything we have by the end of the week. Some things are really worth saving up for a specific event, and I’m keeping the first edition book to give to my daughter when she graduates because it’s just right.
What I question is “someday” savings – the kind that ordinary life will never match. A quiet Tuesday morning with a cup of tea can become a special occasion if we let it. A casual Saturday meal with someone you love is considered a celebration.
The life you are living now is the life you have been saving up for.
Put joy into practice today
Since the candle incident, I’ve tried a few things.
1. Use one saved item each week. Pick what you have in it and actually use it. Last week I finally unpacked the stationery and this week it’s a napkin that’s been sitting on tissue paper for two years. One thing you’ve been saving that might come off the shelf this week?
2. Ask what you expect. When you catch yourself saving something, stop and ask: what am I waiting for? I started this with a bottle of expensive lotion that I had been consuming for months. When I couldn’t name what I was expecting, I used it daily. If your answer is “I don’t know, just… something,” that’s a sign that it’s time to stop waiting.
3. Redefine what counts as special. I used to think special meant a holiday or milestone. Dinner at home can be special if we put it on Chinese plates. You don’t need external validation or a calendar event to enjoy what you have. What if ordinary moments deserve good things?
And I’ve noticed that having less “precious” stuff really helps. When everything in the closet is too good to touch, nothing gets used, and I’d rather have a smaller collection of things I actually enjoy than a larger collection I’m afraid to open.
A lit candle, finally
That 4 year old candle? I had it on last Tuesday while reading and the smell wasn’t what it used to be but it was still lovely. The morning felt different, slower, more present.
I don’t know what I was waiting for all those years, but my wait is over. Sitting there with a lighted candle in the morning felt enough. Always was.
