When Letting Go Feels Like Deleting a Piece of You

Maybe it's sentimental. Maybe it's just clutter with a good backstory.

It’s June 2007 and I am speed shopping up and down the island of Manhattan, searching for a dress. For my 20th high school reunion.

An event where I would be seeing the people I used to eat cardboard squares of cafeteria pizza with back in the day when The Bangles asked us to walk like Egyptians. And we did.

Back when the captain of the football team asked me to go to Prom. And I did.

Back when we swore on our yearbooks that we’d all stay best friends forever.

Except we did not do that. Because the world is large and there are things that we all wanted to do and see and be. And those things took my life far away from River Forest High School and the 80 something people in my graduating class I wasn’t sure I’d ever see again.

But then somebody planned a reunion. And I suppose I figured 20 years is long enough. So I sent in my RSVP and went to find the dress.

Because listen, I’m not completely vain, but I’m vain enough that if there’s a chance the captain of the football team is gonna show up at this little shindig? I am going to be dressed. For. That.

And also? The version of my life that was happening in the summer of 2007 was pretty dang good.

I was tan. I was fit. I was having an unbelievable string of successes at work.

I had friends that I really, really liked.

I was moving to Italy in a few months.

And I was going back to my high school reunion where I was going to get to see people I used to love and who used to love me back.

Admittedly, that’s a lot to pack into one dress. But not impossible, right?

I wouldn’t say that I was desperate when I arrived at Macy’s in Herald Square. But I was … sweaty.

I was also completely alone in Women’s Dresses. Where it was peaceful. Quiet. A little dingy, if I’m being honest. Mostly, it was air conditioned. Which improved my mood. But I’m not gonna lie, by the time I entered the fitting room with just one red MaxMara dress that honestly didn’t look like much on the hanger?

I sort of needed a miracle on 34th street.

And Virginia? I was not disappointed.

18 years ago I bought a red dress.

And I am not exaggerating when I tell you that this dress is the greatest dress of all the dresses that have ever hung in any of the closets in any of the homes I’ve ever lived in. In my life.

And also? I am not joking when I tell you that for the past 4 years …

I have been trying to get rid of that dress.

It is worn. Out.

It’s been washed so many times the material is shiny in spots and thin in spots and stretched out in some very weird places.

I am 100% never wearing this dress again. It is useless to me. It is taking up space in my closet for no good reason.

And yet.

Sometimes a dress isn’t just a dress.

Sometimes it’s a story. A memory. A version of ourselves we don’t want to let go of. A life that we actually lived.

Sometimes we attach meaning to things. And then we can’t let them go.

It feels like deleting. Or erasing. Or tossing out a piece of who we are.

Because even though it’s been years since I was either the girl who walked like an Egyptian with the Captain of the football team or the woman who moved to Italy and wore a red dress to her high school reunion? I still carry those women inside of me.

Along with all of the other women I’ve been in all of the lives I have lived.

We’ve all got lives that we wouldn’t trade for the world. We’ve been students. Spouses. World travelers. Runners. Bird watching, nature enthusiasts. Lovers of campfires and Halloween costumes and men who buy bottles of really expensive whisky. Taylor Swift is not the only one with an Eras Tour. We have lived some lives.

And some of those lives are hanging in our closets and we don’t want to toss them out.

We like those lives. We like those women.

I mean…I like my women so much I am hanging on to a red dress, just in case they return. I don’t want to piss off the ghosts, right? I’d rather rage at myself every morning because all of these past lives are clogging up my closet and making it really hard for me to find something to wear.

In this life.

That I’m living right now.

(sigh)

Here’s the thing: We outgrow things. We’re allowed to outgrow things. And my life has 100% outgrown that red dress.

It doesn’t fit who I am.

It doesn’t go with the life that I’m building right now.

And don’t tell the ghosts, but I don’t need a dress to remember who I’ve been.

In the words of Taylor Swift: I remember it all too well.

And so do you.

There are things in your closet that you’ve been holding on to that you have outgrown.

Things that once mattered, but are now just sort of hanging out.

Taking up space.

Falling on your head while you’re rummaging in the closet for your suitcase to go on vacation.

Maybe you call them “mementos.”

Or “sentimental” items.

Or “keepsakes.”

But maybe they’re just clutter with a good backstory.

And maybe they’re making your present life harder than it has to be.

Listen, I’m a firm believer that “The heart wants what the heart wants.” And I have no interest in separating people from things they do not want to be separated from. But, I also know that we don’t have to feel guilty about letting go of things that are just taking up space. Even if those things have meant something to us.

Letting go doesn’t diminish the sentiment or erase the memories or minimize who you were or mean that your past doesn’t matter. You’re allowed to be nostalgic and wistful and proud.

But you should also be able to get out the door in the morning without a fight.

And honestly? If you’re going to have a bunch of past lives hanging around, they should at least do something helpful. Like reciting affirmations or folding your fitted sheets.

Your friend who doesn’t really know what walking like an Egyptian actually looks like,
Vivian

PS: You’ve got things that are just taking up space in your home, but you’re finding it hard to let them go. Ask yourself these 3 questions:

❶ Why am I holding on to this?

❷ Does this still have a place in my life?

❸ Can I keep the memory and let go of the thing?

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PPS: Next week, we’re talking about The Ghost of “but I got this as a” Present. Which basically includes all the stuff you have in your home that you didn’t necessarily ask for.

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