the state of my closet.

In the summer of 2015, one of the best summers of my life, I told Hannah Brencher that I tend to hoard things. I tend to keep things on the shelf in the event that someday I may need it. After all, it's ridiculous to propose that I throw away my 5-year-old prom dress. What if the Queen makes her grand appearance to Minnesota and throws a ball? If I had nothing to wear, it would be a disaster and would be the end of my life, probably. It's for everyone's sake that I keep it...just in case.

It was in Taproom Coffee that one of my favorite writers in the world told me that if I wanted to figure out how I was treating the people in my life, I should take a look at the state of my closet. To be honest, I had forgotten all about that conversation until two weeks ago, when I was cleaning out my room.

My closet has always been a disaster, overrun with stuff that I don't need anymore but that I can't bear to throw out. Old gymnastics shirts, sweatshirts that belong to guys that once captured my attention - I don't wear them but the thought of throwing it out is too painful, so I toss them in the back of the closet, only to be reminded of their existence two years later.

As I was cleaning out one of my drawers, I came across a shirt that was literally ratty. It used to be one of my favorite shirts and unfortunately, the cheap H&M material couldn't handle my adoration. There were tiny holes all over, and a massive gash from the shoulder to almost the elbow. Everything about the shirt was perfect: the color, the fit, the size, but it was covered in holes. It's practically unwearable, yet still I keep it. Why? Why not give up that precious real estate space for something else that I would actually wear? Something that I could make a million more memories with. After all, a new shirt would live a way better life than that ratty shirt. It would get to go outside, see the sun, and have some fun.

Coincidentally, I also have a problem saying goodbye. Saying goodbye to my shirt would be permanent. I'm not good with writing endings to blog posts and I'm not good at them in real life, either. I always want more. More time, more memories, more...everything.

I know, I know what you're thinking:

"But Maddi, goodbyes are good. They're natural. Change is normal. Sure it can be hard, but it means something new is beginning. And it's almost always better!"

Yeah, yeah. I know. I've heard it a million times. And I've tried to learn this lesson. Really, I have. But it's not fun. I never get any better at it. In fact, it feels like saying goodbye to places and people only get more difficult. How whack is that?

I write about this a lot, and if you know me at all in real life you've probably heard me gripe about my hatred for change. Even if I have moved on, I like to keep places and people on the shelf in case I may need them. But that's not fair. It's not fair to keep people within arms reach, only to toss them in the back of a closet for years. At some point, you need to stop thinking about the what-ifs, could-bes, and improbable future run-ins with the Queen and say goodbye.

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I wrote that section above almost a year ago, and naturally, I still have not fully learned this lesson. (I don't know why I keep thinking that I can just learn crucial life lessons in the span of a few days).

What I have been learning that if you have your head turned back to the past, it's hard to fully invest and focus on what is happening in the present.

I am now in LA - almost 2,000 miles from everything I have ever known. My beloved Saturn couldn't fit my ratty shirt, prom dress, or any of the other things mentioned above, so I had to leave them behind. I'm embarrassed to say this was out of necessity rather than personal volition, but either way they are no longer within reach.

But you know what? I don't need them. The climate in California is different, I'm in a new stage of life, and I can use that space in my closet for flip-flops, blazers, a Dodgers jersey - things that would be used and loved in return. I still treasure the things I said goodbye to in my closet and look at them fondly, but it's okay that they are no longer at the edge of my fingertips. It's okay to treasure things and still say goodbye to them.

I repeat: it's okay to treasure things and still say goodbye to them.

This is not a blog post about cutting people out of my life, because if you know me at all you know that I hold on to people and never let them go. (hahahahha SORRY). But I am learning that you can't hold on to memories and pretend you're living there, because you're not. You have to keep your head up, move forward, and form a new normal.