Letting Go

This past Sunday I sold my clothes for money. Those of you who know me know that it is very difficult for me to part with clothes. I think I finally got rid of my middle school stuff a few years ago and it became clear when I moved into my tiny but amazing apartment a couple months ago that it was time to part with the highschool clothing as well. It’s difficult for me to part with clothes because they have so many memories attached to them. I’ve mentioned before that I feel I’ve lived half a dozen different lives and sometimes it’s hard to remember who I am within all that craziness. It’s tricky to connect the dots. But the one thing that always remains constant are the clothes that have traveled with me throughout my ventures in Europe, the UK, and America.

One dress reminds me of starring in highschool plays, a jacket reminds me of my first college boyfriend, a sweater reminds me of an amazing trip to Italy, a tank of my drunken fiascos in Ireland, a skirt that I had my first NYC audition in, a pair of pants that I met my French ex in, and the list goes on and on and on. I have had so many different lives which I want to remember but I find the memories slipping away as time goes on. My clothes keep the stories alive. I can tell you where I accumulated every single piece of clothing that I have. From underwear and scarves to jeans and fancy dresses. Everything tells a story.

But when a couple of my friends told me they were having a sidewalk sale in Williamsburg for the clothes they were getting rid of, I sighed and realized it was time for me to join in.

They brought AMAZING brand named clothing. I brought the discounted bin of old tanks. I think I even threw in a couple socks and a bra. And even those were hard to part with. I sold everything for .50 to a dollar and I had sellers remorse each time someone bought something. I made $25 and my friends made over $200. It made me realize how much CRAP I have accumulated throughout the years. Things that I don’t even wear anymore but I still can’t part with. I need to go through my closet again and purge some more. Maybe even part with some of my semi- nice things that I don’t wear anymore. It’s time to cut the emotional ties and make room for new clothes along with new memories. Sometimes it’s just so hard to let go.

Just Swing

Ah, nothing like home cooked meals and crisp green grass to lie in while surrounded by family and fresh air. This weekend was exactly what I needed. Refreshing and comforting. I feel a million times better about everything. After my sister-in-law and bro’s baby shower (and everyone gushing over the cutest little outfits and mini slippers), I met up with my oldest bff, Tee and her husband, Kilt. Tee and Kilt met around the same time as the BF and I, but they got married almost two years ago whereas the BF and I prefer living in sin. Anyway, Tee and I are always on the same wavelength. We have wonderful conversations about growing up, where we fit in now, and who we are (or trying to figure out who we are). She always makes me feel better about not having all of the answers.

We all took our beer up to my childhood playground on Saturday night and played. We just horsed around (as my Mom would say), swinging on the swing sets and sliding down the slides, and it was AWESOME! As I was swinging up high into the trees and staring at the stars I had a sudden moment of clarity. I remembered many years ago, swinging on the same swing set trying to reach the trees and yearning for the day I would soar above them. I knew it wouldn’t happen in my hometown. I realized that it would take hard work, sweat, and tears but that I would one day fly. As I swung into the sky remembering this on Saturday night, I realized that the nagging feeling I had as a child was gone. I wasn’t just wishing anymore, I was doing it. I am actively trying. A part of me will always be that child aching for the sky, but it feels good to know that I am paving my way to get there. I’m not just longing anymore. The swing will only take you so far- I am now building my own wings to soar above.

Yes, some good home lovin' was just what the doctor ordered. And it doesn’t hurt that I got a call about attending a second round of callbacks for an awesome film I auditioned for a while ago. I’m still building those wings. One feather at a time.