Notes from the Next Chapter: Clearing My Closet Wasn’t About Clothes

Years ago, when I worked as an image consultant, I thought closets were about clothes. The right dress for the right occasion. The perfect jacket to signal power. The curated wardrobe that told the world you had it all together.

But I quickly learned a closet is never just about clothes.

Some closets were bursting—packed so tightly with tags still on that you could barely slip another hanger inside. Their owners often said, “I have nothing to wear.” And they weren’t wrong. Their closets weren’t full of options. They were full of indecision, overwhelm, and an identity that hadn’t been clarified.

Other closets were nearly bare. A handful of pieces that didn’t reflect who the woman was—or who she wanted to be. These were women who hadn’t invested in themselves in years. Their emptiness spoke louder than words: somewhere along the way, they had forgotten that they were worth the effort.

And then there were closets full of the past. Jeans from a pre-baby body. Dresses from before marriage. Blouses saved for a job or a social life that no longer existed. Each hanger was a ghost, holding not just fabric but longing—for a version of themselves that no longer fit.

I didn’t just see it in other women. I lived it myself.

My Own Closet

After I had my babies, my body changed in ways I couldn’t anticipate. It wasn’t just about size. It was as if my body had been rewritten into something completely new, and I no longer recognized it. Suddenly, the clothes I had once loved and lived in hung on me like a stranger’s wardrobe.

I remember staring into my closet, tugging at a favorite pair of jeans that would never button again, and feeling grief wash over me. Not just grief for the clothes, but grief for the me who had worn them—the woman who didn’t yet know the weight of motherhood or the beauty of sacrifice.

It took me time to realize I would never be “that me” again. And that wasn’t a loss. It was an evolution.

For the first time, I had to ask myself: What does this new version of me want to look like? What does she want to feel like? What does she care about now?

The outer change gave me permission to explore the inner one. I wasn’t just dressing a new body. I was dressing a new self. A mother. A woman with more depth, more responsibility, more resilience than I had ever known.

And the truth is, she deserved the space to discover what she wanted to wear—not just on her body, but in her life.

Beyond the Hangers

That’s when I began to understand: clearing a closet is never really about clothes. It’s about permission.

Permission to let go of what no longer fits—not only on your hips but in your story. Permission to release the self-defeating whispers that say, “If only you were thinner, younger, stronger…” Permission to recognize that some dreams were meant for a season, not a lifetime.

Clearing a closet is an act of courage. It’s a declaration that the woman you are becoming deserves room to breathe.

When I finally removed the jeans that would never zip again, it wasn’t just a style decision. It was a soul decision. I was saying: I release her. I honor her. And now, I choose me—the me who exists today, not the me I left behind.

A Question for You

So I wonder: what’s hanging in your closet, literal or symbolic, that no longer serves the woman you are becoming?

Is it an old identity you’ve long outgrown? A belief that’s been weighing you down like a garment two sizes too small? A dream that once fueled you but now feels like it belongs to another lifetime?

The next chapter doesn’t begin when we pile more into our lives. It begins when we are willing to let go.

Because clearing your closet—whether it’s of clothes, beliefs, or outdated dreams—isn’t about fashion. It’s about freedom.

Try This

This week, stand in front of your closet and pull out one thing that no longer represents you. Donate it. Release it. Let it go. And as you do, whisper a thank you to the woman who wore it. She carried you here. But she doesn’t define where you’re going.

Make the space. Choose the new. Step into your bold beginning.