Here’s an embarrassing fact I’m choosing to share publicly — mostly because I know I’m not alone and partly because laughing at myself feels healthier than crying in my closet.

I have two closets. Walk-in closets. Plus a dresser. All full of clothes. And yet everything is bursting at the seams.

To help you visualize my problem, imagine a size 10 person trying to squeeze into a size 6 outfit. Buttoning the top? Maybe. Breathing? Questionable. Something definitely breaks in the process — physically, emotionally or structurally. That’s the relationship between my clothes and my storage space. Not my body. My closet.

Because this is not a body story. This is a stuff story.

I also want to go on record and say: I do not have a shopping problem. I enjoy shopping, yes, but that’s not the issue here. The real issue — the one that deserves its own diagnosis — is my belief that if I bought something 10 years ago, I will absolutely wear it again at some point, just in a different way. Therefore, it is still valuable. Therefore, it should not be tossed.

This logic applies to every single item I own.

That dress from a wedding in 2014? Still has potential.

Those jeans that were perfect in a very specific season of life? Obviously coming back.

That blazer that screams “career woman who has her life together”? Untouchable.

Over time, my storage space has quietly become the size 6, while my clothing collection confidently lives like a size 10.

And in my defense — and I feel strongly about this — every single time I’ve purged too aggressively, I’ve regretted it. There is nothing worse than waking up on a random Tuesday, wanting that shirt, and realizing you donated it during a moment of frustration and false minimalism. Suddenly, you have nothing to wear. Again.

So I keep everything. Just in case.

But here I am, standing in this season of my life, surrounded by clothes, thinking the same thought I’ve had a hundred times: I have nothing to wear.

Loungewear was never my thing. I like structure. Outfits. Clothes that make me feel like myself. But lately, everything feels crowded — like my closets are holding versions of me from different chapters, all fighting for the same square footage.

Which made me pause.

Is my issue the economic and style science belief that flannel will absolutely come back again? (Because it will. I stand by that.)

Or is my issue that I’m not fully ready to let go of who I once was?

Because this isn’t really about clothes. It’s about seasons. It’s about identity. It’s about honoring who you were without needing to live there forever. It’s about making room — physically and emotionally — for who you are now.

Maybe my closets aren’t too small. Maybe I’m just holding onto too many versions of myself.

From me to you — maybe having “nothing to wear” isn’t a problem to fix, but a signal to pay attention. And maybe this weekend, instead of buying something new or forcing something old to fit, we ask ourselves what we’re ready to make space for next.

From me to you.

Mother, author, entrepreneur and founder of Dandelion-Inc, Lisa Resnick wants to hear your story. Share memories with her by emailing lisa@dandelion-inc.com.