I don't think self-control is on anyone's list of favorite words. Personally, I prefer the word "boundaries".
Between the two concepts—self-control and boundaries—the latter is more helpful to me. Self-control suggests sheer willpower, successfully harnessed (or not) in a moment of temptation. Boundaries, meanwhile, suggests protective lines that can be drawn before that temptation happens.
I tend to have better self-control when clear boundaries are already set.
Having accountability helps too. If I want to bend a rule I discuss it with my husband first, and that extra step discourages me from making too many exceptions.
When it comes to Lego, I've set 4 types of boundaries.
And when considering what to buy, I also ask myself 4 questions
(further below).
The four boundaries
1) Money
Funds for Lego come from my leisure allowance, which I used to spend solely on books and video games. My monthly allowance is 3,000 yen (~USD 22). This budget might be too low
for most Lego hobbyists, but it fits my circumstances.
I'm motivated to wait for a sale because less money spent on Lego means extra wiggle room for books or games.
Because
I avoid buying things at full price, I let myself purchase something
early if it's on sale and have nearly enough funds. Ideally, no more than one month short on allowance.
When I'm tempted to buy much earlier and there isn't a
worthy sale, I tell myself, "Remember you don't like being in debt.
Remember you love the feeling of having saved up enough. It's a sweet
feeling when you have legitimate funds and a discount!"
2) Space
I've challenged myself to stick to just one display cabinet and two storage
boxes this year.
The cabinet's dimensions are 31 x 36 x 38 cm, just right for a medium-large set like the Treehouse.
The storage boxes are roughly
54 x 37 x 30 cm each. I don't keep original Lego packaging in
there; I flatten the cardboard and store them in a closet.
It's a very small space allowance, partly because I live in
Japan (tight spaces) and have a young child (grabby hands) but also
because I want to curb my spending.
So no Rivendell or Ninjago City for me! (though they are
precioussssly beautiful, and I'm vacillating on Rivendell)
3) Theme
I'm aiming loosely for "rustic/outdoor" and "medieval" themes. Ideally, the sets I buy
should look compatible with each other.
I won't be strict on
this policy, though, because having a little diversity in Lego parts
will be good for creating my own designs later.
But no more Star Wars! I like the franchise too much to travel down that rabbit hole. But I might make an exception for one or two minifigures.
4) Time
This is the one I'm struggling with. I spend too much time surfing Lego-related stuff online. So I try to reduce that on Thursdays.
Thursdays
are my weekly day off from work and social appointments. Sometimes I
take a break from activities I love but feel I've been overdoing to the exclusion of other good activities.
Taking a break from online surfing isn't just about saying "no" to it, but also saying "yes" to a better activity.
A final word on boundaries
When
I tell myself "no," I might feel a bit sad but also a sense of
freedom. That's the funny thing about boundaries. Rather than hedge you
in, good boundaries can free you. They help you to say
"yes" to something better. More on that later.
The four questions
1) "Can I live without it?"
I decide which category it falls into: (A) "Nice to look at,
but I don't have to own it." (B) "I really want it!" (C) "I must have it."
For
example, Ninjago City sets are category A. They're impressive and cool but they don't tug
at the strings of my wallet's heart. The new Rivendell (10316) is trickier, and I vacillate between putting it in categories A
and B.
2) "Why do I want this?"
What am I expecting from this purchase? Will it definitely meet my expectations? Might it, in fact, pose any problems or challenges?
Let's
take Rivendell as an example again. It's a
beautiful display piece. It's a way of interacting with a beloved
franchise (Lord of the Rings). I like the Gimli and hobbit minifigures.
I'm looking for a long and fun building experience. I get more excited about the set when I hear people ooh and aah over it.
But will Rivendell meet my expectations? While I'm sure it will look great and be fun to build, I'll have trouble displaying the entire, gigantic set properly. Even I could display the set in one piece (instead of broken up into 3 dioramas), it might not be dust-proof or child-proof. Either way, I'm likely to dismantle it soon, to make space for something else. Or, sell it to recoup cash. We all know that novelty wears off quickly.
The bigger problem is that it costs 63,000 yen; I can
kiss 2 years of allowance goodbye! It would mean paying almost USD 500 to
display the set for only a brief time. Not bad if I can recoup the cash, but is it worth sacrificing 2 years of allowance? Verdict: Probably not worth it, in my case.
3) "Is there a cheaper or better alternative?"
Next, I ask if there's a different way to achieve what I want.
For
example, if I'm most attracted to the minifigures in Rivendell, how
about simply buying 1 or 2 minifigures instead of the whole set? Or if I'm wanting a long, fun build, surely there are other sets that provide that experience. I could buy three great sets for the price of one Rivendell.
I ask this question mainly in terms of time investment. When I get into a hobby, like video gaming, I tend to spend a lot of time reading, thinking, and writing about it. It's fun to enjoy my hobbies so much, but I tend to neglect other interests and goals.
For example, I've often stayed up late reading Lego news, browsing MOCs (fan-made designs), and surveying the value of Lego on secondhand markets (to see if I can flip sets or minifigures for a profit). None of this is bad except the late nights, which are detrimental to my energy, time, and mood the next day.
By asking this final question, I try to clear headspace and re-engage with other areas of life and the world at large.
Saying no to say yes
Saying "no" to something addictive is hard if you're not also saying "yes" to something appealing. One way to fill the void is to intentionally enjoy something you already have. And that leads me to my next post, on contentment and balance.