The other day I cleaned my closet. A feat I wouldn't wish upon my least favorite Fashion Editor. The process was hard, but the emotional distress was even harder. Because underneath the clean sass and style I am this girl whose sheets are not clean whose bank account is awry whose hand bag is messy. I think all to much about what you think of me and a handful of years ago, I'd give anything for you not to know that. And, its not until the last few months that I realized I am ready to be the a better version of that girl. And to do so, I went through every piece of clothing that I owned - and every sweater and shirt and necklace and shoe that I tossed is a little bit of that person who was too fearful of herself to simply be herself.

And in getting rid of all these things that I once thought made me me was more difficult than anything I've had to do as of late - because going back and remembering how sad it was to not be able to be me seemed like years wasted, friendships underdeveloped, and relationships lost all because I couldn't tell the truth about me. It felt as though I owed every person I came into contact with an apology for my willful insincerity.

And I realized that underneath the piles and piles and piles of things that really mean very little were hidden challenges I am now, just now, ready to face. Like real life friendship; truth and commitment in and to important things like work and family and relationships; Like The Balance.

It’s a balance I have always understood and been able to wear with any color and in any season. But now, that life holds a bit more than mid terms and first dates and the need for gas money – the balance I have always been able to tip toe across, is tripping me up left and right and in learning which way to move my weight in order to keep it all in line, I have bruises. Soft little patches of reminders that I am (finally) a very real version of myself.