I love my wardrobe. Heck, I love clothes. 

A lot.

But for years (for decades, people) I put that all on the back burner.

I was due to the kids. It’s always due to the kids, isn’t it? They always bear the brunt of our angst. We sacrifice for them. Gladly.

Because that is what you do. It is what you want to do, as parent. You would’t have it any other way.

I sacrificed for Nike tennis shoes. I sacrificed for American Eagle, Abercrombe, and Lulu Lemon, depending on the kids and the decade. 

And I sacrificed for my husband’s clothes as well. He needed suits and ties, and they don’t come cheap. 

It was what it was. I wouldn’t change it for anything.

But suffice to say, my kids had tennis shoes with the correct logo and my husband had iron-free shirts because my family was my pride and joy (and we all had a disdain for ironing).

I didn’t care much where my clothes came from (still don’t) but while making sure my kids and husband had the correct attire, I still attended to mine, albeit in the minimalist regard. I didn’t care what I had and I didn’t care if I had much. 

Just the basics, if you will.

Mind you, I never wanted for anything. I could have bough expensive jeans or shoes and my husband would have applauded me. It was my decision, completely. 

I guess I just felt the people around me, the people I cared about, needed clothing and brand name shoes more than I did. And for the most part, I’d created these human beings with needs, so I felt the obligation make sure they had enough — or even a smidge more than enough.

And that goes for love as well as clothes.

But (drum roll…) now it’s my turn.

The kids are grown with feet that are no longer growing and in need a new pair of tennis shoes every September. My husband is gone — quite literally — and I donated many of his suits, shirts and shoes to charity. He no longer wears his clothes out. Heck, he no longer wears them.

That leaves… just me.

My goodness, have I been having a good time with this.

I still don’t wear many name brands, but I’ve developed my own style. It’s flashy, it’s unique and it’s fun. And I’m having a grandiose time with it.

I think this probably happens to a lot of us — men and women. For many years, we put our own needs on the back burner because there are others, often needy and helpless others who call us mom and dad, who are relying on us to make sure their needs get met in a healthy and timely fashion.

So we go without sleep. We go with out new clothes and a new car. We make do with what we have so our littles can have what they need — and sometimes beyond what they need because it is what we do — as adults, as parents, as caring human beings.

And then that ends, because kids grow up don’t they? What follows is the me years.

I’m at the cusp of them and they feel quite nice, thank you. I still look after my kids and grandkids, but I have more time to think about what I might want to do or experience, and after giving for so long it feels okay.

Maybe even better than okay.

I give thanks for better than okay every day. To be in this place and in this space is truly worth my gratitude.

Well, that and a new pair of shoes.

— Jill Pertler’s column Slices of Life appears regularly in the Times. She can be reached at slicescolumn@gmail.com.