My closet is one place where I am stuck. I championed a move from a home with a view of the Gulf to a Texas track house that overlooks limestone boulders in mere months. I am putting myself through a rigorous professional program that isn't absolutely necessary. I have a healthier diet and am more fit than ever. But I cannot seem to find the energy and willpower to confront my closet.
I have watched Mission Organization as if it were a sage revealing the meaning of life. California Closets has installed shelves and drawers and baskets to contain my stuff in an orderly manner. I have various sizes of plastic containers to neatly hold swimsuits, winter gloves, hosiery, handbags, sweaters and bulky items and hats. Blouses are separate from casual shirts, with both hung like a rainbow from white to black with solids coming first, patterns second. Dresses are hung above, suits, pants and jackets are below. Organization is not my problem.
My problem is what I am hanging onto, literally and figuratively. There are items that are out of style. Others are worn out. Some are purchase mistakes. Most do not fit anymore. A few are remainders of a little retail therapy.
My clothes represent thousands of dollars I have invested to present certain images to the world. Despite that many of these images are plainly irrelevant today, there they hang. The suits seem to be there to remind me of earlier times when I was a leader in my profession and community, when I made important decisions, when I made more money. The collection of swimsuits takes me to the beaches of St. Augustine, Amelia Island, Key West, Naples, Cancun, Grand Cayman and Kauai. There are elegant dresses whispering about galas, charitable affairs and being photographed for lifestyle magazines. My closet has become a memorial that forces me to pay my respects every time I want to get dressed!
Somewhere next to all those belongings of the women I used to be, lay the few pieces that are telling the story of who I am becoming. A whole drawer is dedicated to black unitards; skintight, one piece suits that are the uniform of my Pilates-Fletcher work. Low-rise, long legged jeans are folded and stacked high in one cube, indicating more time is spent at Starbucks than in boardrooms these days. Next to the bull nose heels that I could walk around in all day long sit sexier, 4 inch heels in black and red patent leather.
April will bring my final testing in the first level of my Pilates certification, taking me still further away from the days as a Style Team or Board member and the owner of a company. With Spring's arrival comes a beckoning for rebirth and renewal. It is time to summon the courage to leave the past in the past, remove the obstacles to my abundance and embrace my future. I am in need of a closet intervention!