No, this picture doesn’t look anything like my closet. But it would be fabulous to have something so neat and organized, even though I would need only about 5% of that space.
I have quite a few clothes and shoes that I haven’t worn for a few years. I used to dress quite femininely, and I wore heels much of the time. Now, the closer clothing is to pyjamas the better. I have some boots with a low chunky heel that I’ll occasionally wear in the winter, but other than that, heels are a thing of the past.
Yet my closet still contains items from pre-treatment-resistant days. Some have already been discarded or donated because it doesn’t fit anymore, but other items still remain. I’m not running out of space, so that’s not an issue, but I’m someone who likes to have a minimal amount of stuff. If I can get rid of things, that’s always a positive.
The issue in this case, though, is it’s not so much the stuff itself and closet thinning, and more about identity thinning. I’m hesitant to get rid of as the possibility that I might turn back into the person who wore that stuff. A person who liked to dress up and liked that wearing heels made me carry myself with a more confident posture.
Right now, I have zero desire to do either of those things, which is why the clothes and shoes haven’t been worn for a couple of years. They continue to sit there, as a tribute to what I used to be, or at least what I used to do. That’s just not what depression looks like.
It’s funny the stories our clothes can tell about our lives. And as time moves on, more closet and identity thinning will be required.