2026 is the year I don’t buy clothes.

No dresses. No skirts. No tops. No sweaters. No pants. No shoes. No boots. No sneakers. No socks. No workout clothes. No coats. No blazers. No “but this one is practical.” No end-of-year sales that magically turn wants into needs. No Nordstrom Anniversary Sale in July. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

I’m calling it a personal experiment, because that feels less restrictive and punitive than calling it a rule. But it is a commitment.

And I already know this will be uncomfortable, if not outright hard.

This Didn’t Start as a Big Idea

This started as a feeling.

A low-grade discomfort I can’t shake: Why do I keep shopping when I already have so much?

I’m not talking about necessity. I’m talking about recreational shopping. Browsing. Scrolling. Buying as a form of stimulation. Buying as a way to feel momentarily better, more put together, more hopeful about some future version of myself.

Now that I’ve named it, it doesn’t feel harmless.

It feels like consumerism wearing a cute outfit.

ADHD, Overwhelm, and an Unexpected Lesson from My Kitchen

Part of this is very practical.

I live with ADHD, and one thing I’m learning, slowly and through trial and error, is how powerful less can be for my brain.

Recently, I did something that felt trivial at the time. I drastically reduced my dishes.

I now have in active rotation:

• Two large forks, two small forks

• Two large spoons, two teaspoons, two coffee spoons

• Two butter knives

• Three sharp prep knives

• Two main drinking cups, one small and one large

• Three coffee cups

• Two espresso cups

• One travel mug

• One water bottle

Everything else I put away.

What surprised me wasn’t the absence of a full set of dishes. It was the relief.

Fewer dishes in the sink. Fewer decisions. Less visual noise. Less guilt about mess.

My life didn’t get smaller. It got easier.

And once I noticed that, I couldn’t stop wondering what other areas of my life might benefit from the same kind of intentional reduction.

What If My Closet Worked Like That?

Clothing items are decisions. Every outfit is a decision. Every purchase is a decision layered with dopamine and justification.

And my closet and drawers, if I’m honest, are filled with items that create more friction than freedom.

I love clothes. I always have. I enjoy style and using clothing as a form of self-expression.

But I don’t enjoy decision fatigue. I don’t enjoy excess. I don’t enjoy buying things to soothe feelings that aren’t actually about clothing or meant to be addressed through consumerism.

So I decided to ask myself a deeper question:

What if I just stopped?

Not forever. Just long enough to notice and create long-term change within myself.

Quality, Not Constant

This isn’t about rejecting fashion or pretending I don’t care how I present myself. I do.

It is about stepping away from fast fashion and constant acquisition.

I already own quality pieces. I already have enough to work with. What I lack isn’t clothing. It’s restraint.

There’s a reason so many creatives and founders simplify their wardrobes. It’s not about aesthetics. It’s about protecting attention.

I’m not trying to become a minimalist icon. I’m just trying to think less about what I’m wearing so I can think more about what I’m creating.

Timing Matters

There’s also a very practical reason for this pause.

I’m entering a phase of physical change, and buying clothes right now only to size out of them later doesn’t make sense.

This year gives my body time to change without me constantly trying to keep up through purchases.

It lets me find a baseline.

And when I do buy clothes again, I want it to be intentional, informed, and aligned with where I actually am, not where I imagine I’ll be.

The Rules (Because I Know Myself)

Here’s what I’m committing to:

• No clothing purchases in 2026

• This includes shoes, boots, socks, and accessories

• Bras and underwear are still under review, but I suspect I already have enough

• Any final purchases happen before the end of December 2025

This isn’t about punishment.

It’s about attention.

Why I’m Writing This Here

I plan to write about this monthly here on Substack, not as advice, but as observation.

I want to notice what urges come up. What stories I tell myself. What I reach for when shopping is no longer an option.

I’m curious what space might open up when I stop trying to acquire my way into feeling better.

This isn’t about being anti-anything.

It’s about learning how to live with enough.

And right now, that feels like something worth sitting with and learning.

From Silence to Spark

Have you ever stood in a room full of people, quietly hoping someone would notice you? Hoping someone would say, “You’re ready. You’ve got this. You can go now”?

Or maybe you’ve worked hard on a job or project, quietly giving your best, hoping your manager would take notice and offer encouraging words or even a well-earned promotion.

That was me.

For years, I waited.

Waited to be chosen. Waited for validation. Waited for someone, anyone, to hand me a metaphorical flashlight or put me under a spotlight and say, “Go ahead, shine.”

But that moment never came.

Gradually, it dawned on me. And then it hit me like a floodlight:

What if the person I was waiting for…was me?

That question changed everything.

The Permission Trap

From the time we’re kids, we’re trained to wait for permission. We raise our hands. We follow the rules. We speak when spoken to.

As adults, we keep waiting, but now it’s for titles, degrees, certifications, approvals, promotions. We wait for someone to tell us we’re qualified to speak, lead, create, or launch something meaningful.

But while we’re waiting, our most valuable asset, time, is slipping by.

Jim Rohn said, “Time is our most valuable asset, yet we tend to waste it, kill it, and spend it rather than invest it.”

I realized I had been outsourcing my worth to gatekeepers, waiting for people to say yes to things I already felt called to do.

The truth?

No one’s coming with a crown or a spotlight to place on you.

You have to crown yourself.

You have to make your own light.

My Turning Point

My turning point came during the COVID pandemic.

I was working as a Senior Clinical Research Associate (CRA) at a biotech startup. I poured myself into that job. The medical device trials I managed helped the company receive Emergency Use Authorization for an innovative COVID test. It was meaningful work.

But, as with many startups, the company folded and I was laid off. I found other CRA roles, but something inside me had shifted. My heart wasn’t in it anymore.

I began asking myself deeper questions:

“What do I really want?”

“Who am I, truly?”

“What if I could be the writer, the artist, the entrepreneur I’d always dreamed of becoming?”

Then came the doubts:

“Should I really do this? Could I?”

“Who am I to call myself a writer, artist, or an entrepreneur?”

And then came the whisper, not from the world, but from within:

“You already are. Stop waiting.”

That whisper turned into conviction. And I made a decision: I would stop waiting for permission. I would stop dimming my light to make others comfortable and stop shielding myself from rejection, criticism, or failure.

Instead, I would light my own path, step by step, even if it scared me.

What It Really Means to Make Your Own Light

Here’s what I’ve learned: making your own light doesn’t mean having everything figured out. It doesn’t mean you’re ready in every way.

It simply means starting anyway.

It means saying yes to yourself before anyone else does.

It means creating from your conviction instead of your insecurity.

I started writing. I began speaking. I shared my thoughts even when my voice trembled.

I designed products I wasn’t sure anyone would buy.

I spoke up in meetings, in clubs, in conversations because my voice mattered.

And the light I had been searching for? It was inside me all along.

When you stop waiting and start doing, something shifts. You build confidence, not because someone handed it to you, but because you earned it.

You become the light. And suddenly…others start noticing.

Not because you’re begging for attention, but because you’re radiating authenticity.

Your Light Gives Others Permission Too

Here’s the beautiful thing: When you make your own light, you give others permission to do the same.

You become a spark.

A mirror.

A guide.

Some of the most powerful people I know didn’t wait to be discovered, they decided to shine.

They showed up messy, real, and brave. They found out what it means to be alive.

And in doing so, they lit the way for others.

You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to be willing.

Willing to take the first step. Willing to believe in your calling. Willing to walk by faith and not just by sight.

The Spark That Changes Everything

So if you’ve been waiting, waiting for someone to say, “Go ahead, you’re ready.”

Waiting for the right degree, the perfect timing, or the right moment, let this be your sign.

You don’t need permission. You just need a spark.

Make your own light.

Shine even if your voice shakes.

Create even if you’re scared.

Lead, speak, act—even if no one’s clapping yet.

Because when you light your own flame, you stop living in the shadows. And that..is where the real magic begins.