Words to hang onto: Instinct

A few weeks ago, I got the internal nudge to go through my entire closet. And what made this effort different was that I tried on every single item.

No matter if I wore it the previous week, three months ago, or a year ago, each item had to prove itself. The item had to still fit my body well, and just as importantly, it had to fit where I see myself going.

A suit jacket I hadn't touched in over several years passed the first test easily. It still fit fine. But I realized if I needed a jacket like that again, I'd rather buy one that felt like me now, not keep this one "just in case.”

Some pieces surprised me. I mean, I’ve done this exercise before but not really like this. There were a couple of pieces where the cut was perfect, but the color was just a little too bright or a little dark, and I didn’t realize how much they were minimizing “me” because the piece was getting the attention. I also realized that I had more white or black tops than I really needed, so rather than have many, I’d rather keep the few I love and that belong.

By the end of four hours I spent on my closet edit, about half of the clothes were donated, not thrown away. And I was happy knowing those items could be part of someone else's closet now, instead of a "maybe someday" in mine. Still, I felt relief and grief at the same time. Relief because I trusted my instinct enough to follow it all the way through, and I could feel space opening up for what's next. Grief because some of what I let go of had quietly stopped working a while ago, and I hadn't let myself notice.

Have you ever cleared something out, not because it stopped working, but because it stopped being who you're becoming?

That's instinct. It rarely explains itself in the moment. It just knows before you do.