Cleaning Out My Closet

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There’s been a daunting task on my to do list, cleaning out my closet. This really is a two-fold task, so this one might get a ‘lil deep. Sigh.

In my journey to lose weight, I’ve been shrinking in sizes. My closet right now contains dresses and pants that range from a 14P-18 (yes, last weekend I bought a size 14 dress that I rock!) and shirts that are 14-16 and L or XL. I never imagined.  I pin all kinds of things I’d like to wear, but those things aren’t in my closet, so I try to make do. A trip to the thrift shop and Ross helped a lot last weekend, filling some of my pinning dreams. But, each morning, I struggle.


It’s a dirty obsession, but I just cannot get enough of Teen Mom (2). The unfortunate thing is that although I had my first child almost 10 years after many of the girls on the show had theirs’, I identify with them. On story line in particular hit me hard this past week–one about a DNA test. It shook some skeletons from my closet (that Greg knows about, but just didn’t need brought to light) and he talked hard questions about the future. The questions, the potential health magic key. It hurt, and I didn’t have words to say.


This morning, I worked on cleaning out my closet, trying to find the floor underneath strewn clothes, a result of my pursuit to try to find things that fit and or looked good (I can’t always have both). Sometimes I have OCD tendencies, and so I embarked on a journey to color coordinate t-shirts, work shirts, sweaters, and dresses. Frankly, an outsider would have been disgusted. I realized that my running/yoga clothes now occupy more than a drawer and that I actually had skinny jeans tucked away, gifts from a neighbor and friend who passed them down to me at the start of this journey.


Wednesday night, the night before love day, I went to bed with tears in my eyes. Anger at myself that I wasn’t the good person I had set myself out to be at the end of ’07-early ’08. I was a lost soul, trying to find light at the end of  a tunnel of four years of bad memories. Sadly, the skeletons that had been shaken while watching Teen Mom rekindled a sadness and anger that I thought I had cleaned out last summer when I sought counseling over what happened to me. I hoped that my husband really could love me, regardless of my past. I woke on Thursday morning to hugs and apologies, love from the man that truly sees past all my issues and loves our daughter probably more than I ever could (and I love this ‘lil girl a whole heck of a lot, regardless of how she came into our life). That’s quite a blessing when trying to clean out the junk.


This evening, my closet is nice and straight. The kids have been playing in there, a whole additional  6 square feet for them to pretend in. My suitcase from our trip to Myrtle Beach finally put away, our new bags finding a space too. Clothes cleaned out and a pile to give away created. Some missing items found, and new outfits determined.


My journey to health isn’t just the physical, it’s the mental, too. Cleaning out my closet hasn’t been an easy task, but this girl is working on it.

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