I went a little crazy at Black Friday sales this year.

On one hand, they were very convenient for Christmas shopping deals, and I picked up a new vacuum I had my eye on for a song, which was great.

But also, this week I had to make a little spreadsheet of incoming packages so I could track them all, and while I was setting it up I realized: this is too much.

The problem is that I am more susceptible than I would like to admit to Instagram ads. It’s easy for me to scroll past it the first time, the second time, the fifth time. But by the tenth time, I’m starting to think, “DO I need compression socks?” and by the 15th time I’m thinking, “They say they would be good for long flights, and I do take long flights sometimes,” and by the 20th time I’m thinking, “I’ll just click this link to take a look” and next thing I know, it’s in my cart because it’s 20% off and I just want to see how much shipping will be, and then it’s just one more click to confirm with Google Pay or Shop Pay, and BAM, another thing to add to the spreadsheet.

I remember when I was in my 20s, my father-in-law sometimes bought things off the shopping channel on TV. He enjoyed watching it and maybe once a month would actually pick up the phone to buy. I was so full of hubris then; I thought he was a sucker at best and irresponsible at managing his money at worst. You’d never find me shopping from the shopping channel! I could never be seduced by those heavily made up women with their shrill enthusiasm, those chit-chatty men with their endless stream of nonsense patter! I was smart, savvy, cool.

And now here we are. I have realized, thanks to my Black Friday spreadsheet, I have arrived at the modern day same place.

Just as I was already having these thoughts, this interesting article popped up on my Twitter feed (of course, because my phone always knows what I’m thinking) about how social media has become a marketplace. Not only are we as consumers constantly bombarded with ads, but those who create content on those platforms are under pressure to constantly showcase new products, new things they have purchased, reviews of stuff you can buy, because that’s where the majority of engagement comes from. If you want to make a career out of being an influencer, your job is one of consumption, constant consumption, glorification of shopping above all. It’s messy and kind of ugly on both sides.

I remember when my kids first got Instagram and we talked a lot about how to protect your personal information, but one thing that surprised me was that they didn’t really care about The All-Knowing Algorithm – because they wanted to see ads that were relevant to them. They wanted to know about the latest video game and latest toys and latest fashions from their fave brands. They didn’t want to see ads for vacuums or comfy bras or compression socks. And at first, I agreed with them; Instagram and Facebook and Twitter and TikTok always seemed to know just want I wanted to buy. The perfect thing! Thanks, social media!

But now I realize: I don’t actually need most of that stuff. And even if I do, it’s just way too easy to impulse buy with a click-click, easy to justify as it’s on sale or two-for-one or limited time only.

It takes active choice to say no. It takes a lot of self-awareness to not buy stuff out of boredom. It takes intentionality to set aside any wants and make sure they are needs.

So this is my goal for 2026. Don’t suggest I spend less time on social media, as I know myself, and that isn’t going to happen. But for this coming year, at least, I promise to surf with intention, to pause before buying, to put away the spreadsheet because it won’t be needed. I shall fight back against the worst sides of capitalism, I shall engage only with personal posts made with sincerity.

(I will, however, also get lot of joy out of vacuuming.)

This is my word of 2026: intention. Not just for online shopping and social media, but for how I spend my personal time, my money, my thoughts, my energy. With planning, with care, and with deliberate goals.

What’s your word of the year?