The chill crisp in the air that is making me want to do a Breakfast Club-style freeze frame fist pump, is also giving me insane anxiety. And no, it’s not the oh so familiar, “back-to-school anxiety” that looms every September, even though I’ve been out of school for six years now (I’m beginning to feel like this will forever exist in my life). 

Instead I’m staring at my closet door (where I store my off-season clothing), in fear and loathing. All of my summer clothes are hanging pleasantly on my clothing rack, yet I know any day now, I will have to open that closet door filled with my fall/winter clothing from last season and transition them back into my life. And dear good … I mine as well be in the Delorean gunning it back to a time I just want to forget.

I know I probably sound like a lunatic right now (when do I not), but when you had some pretty bad shit happen in the past season, your clothes from back then are stained with those memories.

“Ohh hey, shirt I got dumped in.”

“Wow … long slouchy sweater, I haven’t thought about the day I got laid off whilst wearing you in a few weeks. Thanks for the reminder, dick.”

Yeah. Hence why that closet door stays CLOSED. TIGHTLY. 

The problem is, I adore a lot of my clothes from last winter. They are good. REAL good. There is nothing wrong with them besides my emotional issues (perhaps I should go talk to someone about this … hmm). Yet every time I pick them up, I get awful, soap opera-style flashbacks from all the bad nonsense that happened during that season. And that is when I put them back on the rack, back away slowly, and remind myself, “self, you need new clothes.” 

So as much as it hurts me to part with these pieces (because like I said, they are GOOD), I must. Figurative emotional stains are just as hard to get out as real life mustard stains. And who knows, maybe someone, a person who needs them much more than I, will shake out the good times in these pieces. 

I bet you’re wondering, why don’t you keep them? Well … I usually do. In the past I would keep them and just let them hang, lifelessly in my closet … and every time I would reach for the piece I would be all, “hmm yeah … I want to have a good day today … soooo you’re going to stay here.” That’s not normal, kids. I don’t have a Kardashian closet to be this silly with space, okay. Mama needs the space.

Look, you shouldn’t need a box of tissues, a bottle of wine, and a Xanex to go through your closet. Your closet should be your sanctuary, no matter how small or unorganized. While we cannot erase the bad shit that happened in the past, we can remove the reminders, even if they happen to be fantastic pieces you collected over the previous season. Sigh. 

But hey, I’m looking at it like a new blank canvas to fill with awesome, more positive pieces. And more glorious space.

What I’m saying is, I can’t wait to buy more black clothes. I just can’t wait.