About a year ago, I fell in love. Not with a man, but with my wardrobe.

My relationship with shopping was a gratifying one. Shopping always gave me what I wanted. My wardrobe never judged me and made me feel happy when I needed that extra boost of confidence. Some people run to food for comfort while others might call their best friend when they feel depressed. Shopping had become my mood-lifting medication.

Eventually, the studded heels and chandelier earrings had lost their luster. About a year ago, I was sitting alone on my bed as my eyes scanned the room. It was then that I realized my love for fashion had taken over my closet and my life. I looked on my desk where there was a plethora of jewelry in a rainbow of colors still waiting to be worn.

Jeweled tones of royal blue and emerald green bounced off the mirror and onto the stark walls. Most of my accessories still had tags on them. I had forty pairs of heels, boots and flats that lined in the back of my closet. Some shoes were even collecting tiny dust bunnies on the corner wall. Piles of tops, denim jeans and jackets were busting out of my walk-in closet.

I thought of how out of control my closet had become over the last three years. My shopping habit was a gradual progression from moderate to worse over the years. I owned about ten pairs of shoes my first year of college. Within the following years I owned forty.

The moment I started a shoe obsession I knew I was at an all-time low. I was browsing the aisles of a shoe store and two Steve Madden suede pumps arrested my attention. One pump was in an irresistible color of electric blue and the other a hot fuchsia. I gasped the moment I saw those 4-inch heels. I couldn’t control my heart from racing and my adrenaline from pumping. My eyes were radiating as hot hues of blue and pink reflected onto my light brown eyes. I grazed my fingers over the texture of the soft suede and instantly fell in love with the shoes. The store didn’t have my size, but, without hesitating, I shelled out $100 for both pairs and ordered them online. I had never paid so much for a pair of shoes and made this purchase my only exception. I knew then that I was addicted to shopping. I didn’t need the shoes, but they gave me temporary solace from the stresses of life.

After waiting for two agonizing weeks, I finally received the shoes in the mail. I excitedly ripped open the package. But much to my disappointment the shoes were too big. My feelings of happiness quickly faded, but it wasn’t because the shoes didn’t fit. Ultimately, I realized how absurd it was to buy $100 shoes and decided to return them.

Along with the shoes that I returned, I decided to purge my closet of all the things I didn’t use anymore, which was a tremendous feat and took a couple of weeks. I took a deep breath, walked into my closet, and reluctantly placed each item in either a “keep” or “donate” pile. I had held an emotional attachment to much of my wardrobe and parting with those fond memories was a painful process. Among other items, I gave away my black lace dress, which was the dress I wore to my first high school homecoming dance with my first steady boyfriend. I sold my wardrobe to Plato’s Closet, a store that buys gently used clothing. I also donated them to the Goodwill. I was surprised at how proud I was of myself. Each time took a trip to sell or donate something I immediately felt a sense of liberation. I was no longer being defined by the things I owned, which gave me a personal sense of fulfillment.

I smiled as my wardrobe reduced significantly in size through the weeks. My closet was half empty and I could finally see the brown carpet on my closet floor again.

Cleaning out my closet wasn’t downsizing for me, instead it was a progression toward a simpler kind of life. That was the year that I learned to live with less and still be happy.