If You're Trying to Find Yourself, Check Your Closet

What I learned about life from visiting my past.

As much as I despise the act and swore I wouldn’t do it again for at least another twenty years — I’m moving. Our house is on the market and I’ve procrastinated as long as I could before tackling one of my most dreaded tasks:

Going through my bedroom closet.

To me, packing is like childbirth; I tend to forget the traumatic event and find myself going through the agony again and again.

Although the process is tedious, it has also been quite emotional as many of the previously stored boxes contain memories from my four and a half decades of life. In the past, I've only moved the boxes from place to place without going through the contents, believing the universe had a grand plan in which I was to open them at an exact moment in time for some life-altering revelation.

“Cue closet box opening…ready…and… NOW!

The following are some of the things I’ve learned about myself — and life in general — while rummaging through items in an 8x5 space with my Spotify playlist.

I have way too much shit

Let’s just start with the obvious. None of us realize how much we’ve accumulated until we have to move. Before I started actually opening boxes that had been stored in the bottom of my closet and high up on the shelves, I decided to first tackle what was hanging in front of me. The items that I supposedly used or wore frequently.

That was bullshit.

I had a walk-in closet full of dresses and coats and clothing and purses and shoes. First of all, I’m a healthcare worker. I wear scrubs pretty much day and night. I hardly ever go out other than to eat with friends and family and it’s usually right after work when I’m wearing…

Yes, scrubs.

I also typically use the same purse until someone notices it’s barely holding together at the seems and tells me to get a new one out of sheer embarrassment — theirs, not mine.

So why the hell was I keeping all of this? Time had proven that I wasn’t going to use/wear it “one day” because most of those days have come and gone. And if I did have the occasion to wear any of it, I’d probably think everything made me look fat and go buy something new anyway.

According to the Environmental Protection Agency in 2017, 11.2 million tons of textile waste ended up in landfills, and the main source was clothing.

My daughter recently educated me on the Fast Fashion Environmental Crisis and I now feel I need to do my part. Not only am I trying my best to find new homes for my clothing, but I intend to make smarter decisions in the future on what is considered necessary to survive and try to lessen any future impact on the environment.

So, seven filled donation boxes later, and we’re on our way.

I’ve gone through many phases in life

Another thing I’ve noticed about the clothing and the accessories I’ve acquired through the years is that there is no consistency. I have sundresses and cute gold sandals and wedges from my “suburban girlfriends” phase that I purchased when I first bought my house. It’s in an affluent neighborhood, and because I was able to purchase the house for a steal since it needed so much updating, I never felt that I actually belonged here.

Growing up in Miami, my attitude and mindset were more of an urban vibe; I was a bit too edgy for the likes of the conservative North Georgia suburbs, but I gave it a shot to try and fit in for my kids’ sake. Weekend mornings didn’t count though. We still walked the dogs in our pajamas carrying our cups of coffee — or something stronger if it was a “hair of the dog” kind of day.

I also have the cringe-worthy, conservative business attire that I wore for a very short time during my year as a real estate agent when I had decided to take a break from the healthcare field after twelve years. My son died in an accident the weekend before my last week at the hospital and I spent several months in bed.

Despite my grieving state, I eventually took the class and somehow passed the test to obtain my license which turned out to be a much-needed distraction. I was only able to sell one house for a friend before I decided my heart wasn’t into dealing with the often cut-throat environment and maximalism mentality of the business, especially after my loss.

I also missed my scrubs.

Then there are my boxes of running attire and race t-shirts, clothing that I hated but couldn’t give away because they were gifts, and my all-time favorite — overalls. I’ve worn them since I was a kid. They’re my go-to, comfy babies that I mostly wear when I’m doing what makes me the happiest — being creative. I usually combine them with a colorful pair of dingy Chucks, braids, and a huge cup of nostalgia.

As I narrowed down my wardrobe to just the essentials and loaded the rest into boxes for the next Goodwill run, I realized just how much I struggled to find my place in life. The crazy part has been how I ended up right back where I started.

Never deny your true self. It took me a while to discover that who I was supposed to be was the person I was all along, but I needed to go through each of those phases to figure it out.

I missed out on much of my kids’ childhoods, and so did they

As I went through boxes I found an old planner from 2009. At the time, I had four kids between the ages of 8 and 18 and was in between husbands as a single mom. I was also working 2–3 jobs hustling to make ends meet.

This planner was slammed full from month to month. Between working PRN (as needed) at my hospital job as an x-ray tech and trying to keep up with the days I worked, doctor’s appointments, girl/cub-scout events, sports, horse-back riding lessons, and whatever else was happening at the time, there was barely any time to breathe.

So many of us give in to the productivity culture and miss out on what we’re actually here to do — live. The life I lead a decade ago in trying to accomplish so much was in stark contrast compared to the Gen-X life I grew up in where we were essentially left to our own devices to make memories and learn our life lessons. Our imaginations were wild and our parents weren’t nearly as exhausted.

Instead of happy memories, looking through the planner evoked much guilt and sadness. I know I was there, but I felt like I missed it.

When did Ben play the trumpet?

Mother of the decade here. Thank God I kept that planner.

I’m thankful that the current generation of parents is making more of an effort not to over-schedule and under-appreciate their kids and their very few years of childhood. The controversial free-range parenting movement is making waves and — although extreme to many— could help start a conversation and bring a balance to getting back to basics and allowing our kids to be kids. Parenting is hard enough without the anxiety and stress of trying to fill up every hour of their day.

While listening to my kids speak of their childhood memories, their best are usually the ones they made on their own that Mom never knew about anyway. Much to my surprise and gasps of astonishment, they make for some rather hysterical and eventful dinner conversations.

All my exes made me one hell of a woman

As I sat on my closet floor going through my boxes, I found one with only pictures. They weren’t organized in any kind of chronological order, but strewn around in the box. I picked up a handful and noticed that they were of different husbands and phases in my life.

I’ve been married three times. I’ve had children with different husbands and these different husbands would then become step-fathers and then Mom’s ex.

I would abandon one life for another. Previously framed family pictures were switched out for the next. The old pictures tossed in a box that I would attempt to hide away as if only the new life had existed all along. This isn’t something I’m particularly proud of, but it’s a fact of my life nonetheless.

When I saw each chapter of my life (categorized by which husband I was with at the time) held together in my hands, I was overcome with a feeling of gratitude. Memories that had been boxed away for years in an attempt to erase their existence for a new one, suddenly revealed parts of me that I had long since abandoned.

Each person that exists in our lives brings out different parts of our personalities — good and bad; each experience teaches us more about who we are or who we don’t want to be. That day, I realized each of those relationships brought something different to the table and made me the tough, versatile woman I am today.

I was exposed to different lifestyles and took away at least one skill from each. Despite the reasons for our divorce, there was no denying that I had a love for them at one time for reasons enough to marry them, and at that moment, I whispered a thank you to each one.

Don’t ever regret your past. No matter how difficult, it was a necessary part of your journey.

Simplicity is liberating

I’m selling my home because I’ve had enough. Enough of consumerism and the loss of community destroyed by judgment and societal expectations. I no longer wish to be a slave to the superficial and base my worth on what I’ve acquired and where I live.

I want my existence to be judged by what I was able to offer others.

This purging of possessions is based on my decision to live with intention. There was a time when I wanted a home big enough for huge family gatherings, and yes, maybe to prove to others that I could have what they had. I fell prey to expectations of what it meant to be successful, and left my creative soul behind for the life I thought I needed to live.

The last four years since losing my son have given my life a much-needed change in perspective to be who I should have been all along. To live my decades-long dream of travel, adventure, and art.

I want to set the example for my children that anything is possible as long as we’re willing to let go of other’s expectations and the fear of failure.

Michelle Cappetto in an abstract for OhioLink says, “Minimalism aids in the elimination of life’s excess and allows for focus on the essentials, happiness, fulfillment, and freedom.”

I may have been comatose for most of their busy young lives, but this is the best gift I could ever leave my kids.

My best years are yet to come

Looking through my accumulations from all my phases, husbands, pursuits, and skills I tried to learn but lost interest in, all add up show me who I do and don’t want to be — the hats I’ve tried on that just didn’t fit.

It may have taken me half my life to figure out, but through the process of elimination, I know who I am, and I’m ready to take on these last few acts being my genuine self — in overalls.

That Universal cue was right on time.

“I think a part of growing up us learning how to sit down on the floor with all your things and figuring out what to take with you and what to leave behind” ~Hannah Brencher