I’d forgotten how many beautiful clothes I have.
Recently my mobility has been such that I’ve struggled to use our stairs. As a result I’ve not been able to put my clothes away and I’ve been wearing the same outfits over and over again, dressing out of the clean laundry basket.
I have more clothes than I need and in approximately 282497440 different sizes too, since my weight has changed so much in the past couple of years. (Who hates steroid weight? I hate steroid weight!)
And for the most part this oversized, confused, multi-era wardrobe has migrated to our bedroom floor.
Someone will take the clean clothes upstairs for me, but not put them away and at some point the small pile became a mountain, became an overwhelming task.
This weekend Phill got sick of the floor-drobe and erected (oo-er) some additional storage rails and shelves for me. He then proceeded to hang my things up.
I think the last time someone hung up an item of clothes for me, I was about 8 years old so it was really moving to have him do this. Not only does it mean that I can wear clothes that have been hung and not crumpled but it means that he’s starting to understand the limitations that my progressing hEDS is putting on me. It’s hard to admit that you need help, hard to ask for it and harder still to manage if it isn’t forthcoming.
Of course in terms of needs, food, medication and warmth score much higher than personal grooming and clothing. But for me, my clothes have always been a way that I express myself and feeling resigned to wearing the same three outfits is quite depressing. I feel like I’ve lost part of my identity – left in a pile, in a room I struggle to get to.
It’s bad enough that I can’t wear so many things because of the size but an equal number are no longer appropriate because of fiddly fastenings or fabric that irritates my skin.
I think maybe now it’s time to sort through and reduce my collection until I have only things that I love, fit and can do up! Time to start dressing like me again!