say goodbye, say hello

My Babe With the Power t-shirt is two sizes too big for me. All of my clothes, actually, are at least two sizes too big for me. Nothing in my closet fits me anymore and now I am left with a choice: keep everything in haphazard, falling over piles all over the place... or grab out the trash bags and make an effort to sort through things and make a sizeable donation to Good Will? Saying goodbye to clothing almost feels like saying goodbye to an entirely different self, a past life that I don't know if I'm ready to let go of quite yet.

In the basement, there are two Rubbermaid totes filled with clothes that I haven't even looked at since we lived in this house. There is an entire wardrobe down there that belongs to an entirely different Anna. One that hadn't yet had to carry the heaviness of grief and loss on her shoulders. One that was so damn scared all the time, lost in the dark with only the stars to guide her. Sitting in the dark in my walk-in closet with the door closed listening to nothing but the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack and sobbing was my rock bottom. I would look up at all my clothes surrounding me and think, "Why even bother?" My hands would graze the bottoms of my dresses and I wished more than anything that I could make it out of the house wearing one, feel the warmth of sunshine on my shoulders and hope for the promise of healing along the way.

Wearing dresses will always remain a symbol of me trying to take my body back from the demons that claimed my teenage years. Newly eighteen and driving to the Racine Good Will with Noelle in tow—we were on a mission to feel like girls, damn it, and nothing was going to stop us. I still remember wandering around the Walmart next door and eyeing a red plaid sundress. I grabbed it and ran into a dressing room, silently sewing all of my hopes for redemption into the threads of its thin fabric. I wanted to feel wanted, in my own body and on my own terms. It was the first step toward me trying to dramatically love myself instead of letting others dictate how I felt.

Every summer it seems, the sun comes back and suddenly I remember that I am a woman. I feel the need to reclaim my femininity. Do something crazy to my hair, shave my legs, and spend 10 minutes in front of the mirror getting to know my face again as I groom my eyebrows into place and debate whether or not I want to spend another 10 minutes later on that night picking clumpy mascara out of my eyelashes. Then comes the hard part... What do I want to wear?

My "closet" right now consists of a corner piled high with clothes that once upon a time used to be organized. Trying on clothes and sorting everything into bags, deciding what to keep and which pieces of my memories to give away feels like too much energy and emotional dissonance to expend right now. Tugging on fabric, pinching and pulling at the places that used to hug me in my darkest moments brings me back to my eighth-grade graduation, wandering around JC Penney with my mom and grandma. They brought dress after dress after dress into the fitting room, and I couldn't keep the hot, stinging tears of shame from running down my face because even the biggest sizes they had wouldn't fit over my hips. Part of me says, "What if you give away all these clothes and then that happens again? Then what?"

Value yourself enough to let go. Haul out the garbage bags and start sorting. Letting go means saying goodbye, but it doesn't have to leave a bittersweet taste in your mouth. Don't listen to the voice playing devil's advocate in your head. You deserve to feel good about yourself. You are worthy of feeling pretty and like you belong in your own skin. Say hello to a new season. Say hello to sunshine on your shoulders again. Buy a new dress and feel how deep your freedom goes.