Clean Your Closet

Act Like The Parent You Will One Day Be

I have a ritual of cleaning my closet every summertime. No it doesn’t involve laundry: it’s washing away the misunderstood, the anger, the pain, the fear. I believe that accumulation of those elements is only recipe for disaster. So it’s quite worth it that I sit down and face my demons head on. Together with you — which rarely any couple does.

Imagine your closet, the real one full of clothes, imagine how in it you kept a dirty underwear from 10 years back (not a beautiful sight huh?) And left all of your socks from the past. Ones that don’t fit — ones you’d never wear because they’re too damn trashy.

Imagine how the piles of useless things there and ugly things consumed all of your closet: now although you have this new beautiful dress/suit, you have no space for it in the closet.

What do you do? Logically anyone would say: throw the other stuff out and leave space for the new beautiful things. That’s what humans do logically, except if the closet now is a metaphor to their dirty secrets. They don’t dare take out each dirty cloth and remember why and how it got so dirty then throw it. They are afraid of the surprises they kept for themselves for years in that closet.

So basically the closet controls them: it’s there, using space and unwilling to go away.

What they do? Buy a new closet. Although this seems neat and perfect, the emotional distress of having to keep the old closet closed for the rest of your life is scary. What if it opens? Worse, what if it opens and all the dirty clothes come out while it’s your daughter’s wedding — your daughter who always only believed in the new closet. What message is that? She will live in fear that her own story has a secret closet somewhere ready to unleash someday. It might or might not but the terror of it being there is scarier than the reality itself.

That’s why I sit down, open the darn closet, dare to handpick the dirty undies, remember the why and how they got there and out of pure conviction that they’re not needed anymore I throw them to hell in a hand basket — to never be seen again.

The process is heavy, long and tiring. But with each piece coming out I feel the joy of seeing my very own closet be ready for my new gorgeous clothes that I picked with more love and purpose.

If we all did the same process with our closets, no shrink will ever find a job. We can be our own therapist. And each other’s therapist if there’s enough love to hand picking the dirty undies together: it builds trust. Someone who had seen your dirty undie and helped you throw it is your partner in crime. He loves you for the courage of letting him into the messiest aspect of your life.

Now imagine the old closet is cleared out — there’s a moment before the new clothes are put in that IS the peek of joy: it’s weightless — empty — shiny closet. With all the possibilities of shaping next how the clothes will go inside. With all the beauty of the sun reaching out inside the places that were once so dark. And the air that fills it again after it was saphocatingly full: This emotional discharge moment is where we feel free. Anew and in charge. We contemplate our glory for a while, then put in the new clothes with so much confidence. There was no energy time or money wasted on a new closet, no secrets around the house and kids can look up to parents who have nothing to hide.

I always act like the mother I will one day be — so today I cleaned my closet. It was a long hard tearful process, but right now I see the light, the possibilities. Did you clean your closet today?

About The Author

Imane