The weather is perfect right now. It's stormy and cold, perfect for snuggling with a little boy and some chai tea. Perfect for a laundryfest and Nikita marathon- which is what inspired today's post. As I was going through my laundry, I realized I was washing the clothes I wear on a regular basis- two pairs of jeans, a handful of shirts, a dress or two. Minimal, simple clothing. And yet this is what my closet looks like:
This is my deepest shame. And I'm posting it on the internet. These are the skeletons in my closet.
And when I say skeletons I'm not exaggerating. After the fires I coped in many ways, all of them unhealthy. One of these ways, was shopping. I have amassed hundreds, and hundreds of different pieces of clothing over the last five years, most of them in the first year alone. This was uncharacteristic of me, especially since I literally wore the same five shirts throughout all four years of high school. Those shirts were the only things I had after my house burned down, and so shirts, and clothing, became my comfort. It's silly and ridiculous, but I can't bring myself to get rid of them. They have so many memories, the reveal secrets about my life I'm not yet ready to pass on.
The rest of it, the rest of the things I can't donate or toss are going into plastic bins. There are sentimental clothes, business casual clothes, and mostly clothes I have no hope in fitting into right now. While I'm happy I'm below my pre pregnancy weight, I'm not below my pre Paul weight. Combine that with the fact that my body has changed so much since I had Anthony, I have little hope in fitting into most of the things in these bins. I feel like if I donate them, I will be giving up on the possibility of being a smaller size, like I'll be admitting defeat. So for now they will sit in bins in the closet, until I get there, give up, or move on.
I'm not done though. This project is going to continue to another day. I've gotten most of the clothes out of the closet, but there are clothes every where. Anthony's room, our bedroom, our laundry pile... I hope to be able to post shots of the floor tomorrow, and bags and bags of clothing I have the gumption to give up. I keep telling myself they're just clothes. But they're not. They're memories. They're hope.
My mom used to tell my I was a pack rat, a lifetime ago. I kept every paper, every note, ever book. I had boxes and boxes full of pictures, of scraps of my life. But I lost all that, and filled that hole with something else. I hope that some day I can post about how I filled myself with Lord instead.
Fittingly, God gave me this reminder today. His promise. There is no beauty, like the beauty of creation.