Spring cleaning

I bought some new summer clothes yesterday and found I had no room for them in my rather small closet. Today, I took some time getting rid of clothes that either don't fit or are out of style. Considering I wear mostly jeans and LL Bean-type clothing, that's not a lot.

My closet, as I said, is quite small so clothes are really jammed in there. I normally reach for the same old things and wear them to death. But as I was moving the hangers to expose each piece of clothing, I found things I forgot I had. It was then that I started to get serious about what would fill that large black trash bag on my bed. 

Some of the clothes were no-brainers. I'd keep them because they were in good shape, they fit, and I wear them all the time. It was when I got to the part of the closet that is not easily reached that I started feeling torn.

There was the shirt that my uncle Phil gave me the Christmas before he died at 45. A heartbreaking death for me. He wasn't much older than me and we were more friends than relatives. I haven't worn the shirt since 1999 but still can't bear to throw it out. So there it stays.

I found old company logo shirts from miscellaneous projects I worked on. I kept one from each company and tossed the rest. I know the chances of my wearing those remaining golf shirts again is next to nil, but I worked hard at those companies and, with the exception of my resume and the friends I made there, these were my only tangible reminders.

There were the shirts that I bought either on or for vacation trips. Each one held fond memories. I kept the ones that still fit and put the rest in the bag. I've got pictures and stories from all those trips that can replace the clothing.

The pants were another story. The sizes were all over the map. I thought about my weight struggles over the years as I pitched all of the pants that were more than one size away from my current size. All the while feeling ambivalent because I know my history and wondered if I was throwing away things that may fit, unfortunately, a year from now. In the end, it made me feel empowered to toss those size 16 and 18 jeans - a good incentive to keep my weight off.

As I tied up the bag stuffed with old clothes, I reflected on the thought process I just went through. Deciding on what to keep and what to let go is something we do every day. It could be facts we collect on our jobs that ultimately don't become part of the final result, or people we meet that we feel are fine as acquaintances but don't click with enough to count as good friends. 

But it was the sentimental piece of the process that I found the most enlightening. What memories do we value? How much do we hold onto even though it doesn't fit who we are anymore?

Memories are powerful forces in our lives. Forces that nudge both smiles and tears. There are times I wish I could clean out my mind like I do my closet. It should be easier to get rid of moments that are yesterday's bad fashion statements and keep only what makes me feel good about myself when I look in the mirror.

I came to the conclusion that, although convenient and tidy, I don't want to treat my memories like my closet. I am me because of everything that was given to me or chosen by me - even if it no longer fits.