Saturday, I realized I'd lost something and I thought I'd left it in my closet, so I decided to straighten all the clutter that I'd let grow in there. Shortly after starting to organize the boxes of junk that I'd stored for no apparent reason, I came across a box of old clothing and such from before I started my transition.
The clothes weren't for what I'd been searching. Honestly, at the time I had other things on my mind, but after a second basket of unwearable and uninteresting attire turned up, I decided that it'd be a good time to sort all that out and do something with it. So, I started the process of collecting all the old clothes that I'd never need again and putting them in a single place.
At first, I only wanted to have them collected so eventually I could do something with them. I wasn't even sure what at the time. Then I realized that there was nothing I could do with them. I've lost so much weight since then that none of it would fit, even if I did abort my transition, which now is unthinkable. So, I decided that it was time to send it all to Goodwill.
Monday, after carrying all the clothes to the recycling store. I left with this strange sense of elation. I'd put another step behind me. For two months, the old work shirts had hung in the back of my closet, skeletons of my former
life. Now they're gone, and I'm free to fill up all that space with clothes for who I really am, that I'll enjoy wearing and that I'll want to wear in public, for the simple joy of being myself and being seen.
I never did find what I was looking for in my closet, though. Now I can't even remember what it was.