I was talking with a woman recently about her adventures in closet cleanouts. She is preparing for a move, listing her house, and doing it all with twin toddlers. She explained the post-baby master closet comb-through I remember doing after each of our boys came into our lives — the ones that involves considering your current post-baby body, projections about your where-the-dust-settles post-baby body, lifestyle changes (will I ever wear sequins or tassels or super high heels again?), and a heavy farewell to the old you that seems, simultaneously, like seconds and several lifetimes ago. It took me right back. I remember so well. I blurted out “It’s so hard. It’s impossible to know which old versions of yourself are sleeping and which are dead.” We both paused. We blinked and shook our heads yes in unison. And then a big collective sigh.

I’m slightly obsessive about purging my closet several times a year so my clothes and shoes are in decent shape, and my youngest is now 8 so I’ve adjusted to the simple fact that my perimenopausal post-baby-growing body is a sneaky little shapeshifter. It does what it wants when it wants, so I’ve settled into a closet lineup that accepts and embraces that +/- 20 pound pendulum swing. It feels kind of boring but also peaceful.

But holy smokes, where it gets real in there is the jewelry drawer. It takes me a solid 3 minutes to find any random pair of earrings (and I pretty much exclusively wear big statement earrings, so that’s a big ol’ problem). Pulling out the drawer results in a jack-in-the-box explosion of jewelry bags, boxes, and polishing cloths jumping out at me. It’s a silent plea: “Help me. Sort me. Organize me. Purge me. WEAR me!” So obviously, the neat-knick in me jams all the random ejected items back in the drawer, slams it shut, and walks away calmly, as if I’m not consciously aware that I’m literally running from the skeletons in my closet at this point.

Why jewelry? Well, for me jewelry has been a place for me to explore my creative side. When I was eighteen and home for the Holidays after my first semester in college, I “rebelled” by piercing my belly button. No permanent tattoo for me. (That came muuuuuch later.) I loved the try-it-on, non-committal nature of a piercing. If I got tired of being a rebel, I could just take off a piece of jewelry. (Case in point: for that belly ring, it came out when I transitioned into my second trimester with baby numero uno. And no, it never went back in. And yes, it’s still in that jewelry drawer.) I love a bold lip and funky haircut for the same reason. I suppose, like my mid-forties shapeshifting body, I like the option for my creative expression to shapeshift, too. As long as I’m within driving distance of an Ulta and have my long trusted stylist on speed-dial and the continued ability to grow out hair at the speed of light, I can recreate myself whenever I damn well feel like it.

But that dang jewelry drawer, it’s like a time-travel machine with a twist. That ring: my dad bought it for me for me back when I was in my early 20s (without a boyfriend, and my entire family had already written me off as an old maid). Those earrings: I wore those on the beach at my wedding. That necklace: it was my first fancy gift from my future husband. That bracelet: my Grandma gifted it to me before her death. Sure, they still fit my physical body, but I’m not the same person I was the last time I wore them. They don’t feel the same. I don’t feel the same. I’m not the same. And I’m not sure if that version of me is sleeping or if she’s dead.

Am I hanging onto them for a revival, a reinvention, or an archeological expedition?

That’s some heavy stuff, and I stalled out, right there, writing this post for a few days, until I realized it’s not the right question. One of the great joy of accessories is that they make it light, easy, and fun to recreate myself whenever I damn well feel like it. I needed to remember it’s not my job to fit back into a body, feeling, or state of mind to wear a piece of jewelry. It’s my jewelry’s job to adjust to this body, feeling, or state of mind at all times. If it can’t do that, it doesn’t have a home here anymore.

I decided to lighten the load of that jewelry drawer. I’m happy to report that it feels light, easy, and fun again to glide the tidy drawer out, do a quick scan, and make a swift selection for the today version of me. Living requires a whole lot of shapeshifting, and our accessories are a playful, ease-filled reminder that creatively reinventing ourselves is the truest sign of life.