Letting Go Isn’t Giving Up

What a closet full of clothes taught me about shame, self-worth, and starting over.

After publishing this week’s blog post on The Well Dressed Life — What to Do With Clothes That No Longer Fit Hanging in Your Closet — I heard from so many of you.

The comments, messages, and emails poured in. Some said it was exactly what they needed. Others said it made them cry. A few shared they were finally ready to face what was hanging in their own closets — and what it represented.

I wasn’t surprised the post resonated, but I was struck by how deeply it did.

For most of us, the clothes that no longer fit aren’t just clutter. They’re holding our shame. Our guilt. Our grief. They represent the version of ourselves we think we should get back to, even if that version was never truly at peace.

So today, I wanted to go a little deeper — to share the full story behind that post. The emotional spiral that filled my closet. The moment I realized I didn’t even want to get back to the person I used to be. And how letting go of a pile of clothes became the first step in finally showing up for myself again.

How I Got There

When I look back on that chapter — when I was gaining weight quickly — it’s obvious now that I was in a terrible place. Everything felt out of control, like I’d been spun around too fast and then set loose, stumbling through a kind of emotional dizziness. (Does that make sense? Because that’s how it felt.)

My closet slowly filled with reminders of that spiral, and every time I tried to get dressed, I felt worse. Less like myself. More like someone I didn’t recognize. And I was furious about the series of events that got me there — some the result of my own decisions, and others just dropped in my lap.

And listen, I was gaining weight from emotional distress and midlife body changes — it was a recipe for disaster. My hormones were shifting, my stress was maxed out, and my coping mechanisms weren’t great. The physical changes were real, but the emotional toll was even heavier.

In the beginning, I still tried to force it. Not willing to accept reality. Literally. I would physically push my body into clothes that were wildly too small — jeans that cut into my stomach, sweaters that pulled across my chest. It was so unkind. So devastating. Every morning became a fresh reminder of the chaos I was living in.

And then one day, after a breathless try-on session — you know the kind that leaves you red-faced, sweaty, and actually out of breath — I had two realizations that changed everything:

First, that my morning routine of either squeezing into clothes or staring at ones that didn’t fit was, plain and simple, emotional abuse. I was flogging myself before the day even started. And I knew better. For years, I’d told my clients to remove anything that didn’t currently fit. Not throw it out if they didn’t feel ready — just move it out of your primary closet. Put it in a box, a bin, somewhere out of sight. Because you shouldn’t start your day running a mental record of: that doesn’t fit, that doesn’t fit, I can’t wear that.

So the fact that I wasn’t taking my own advice? That was frustrating.

And then came the second — more important — realization:
I didn’t even want to be the girl who used to fit into those clothes.

Because she wasn’t happy either.
In fact, she’s the one who got me into the state I was in.

She was tired. She was pretending. She was disappearing into expectations that didn’t reflect who she really was.
She didn’t know how to rest. She didn’t know how to say no.
She didn’t even know herself.

And she certainly didn’t know how to be kind to herself.

So why was I holding her up as the version I needed to get back to?

The Thing About Not Caring

This isn’t just about clothes. It’s about coming back to yourself.

And want to be clear: this is my experience. I’m not here to project or prescribe — just to share what’s been true for me.