I’m running into problems with memories. Not that I have too few but too many. Everything has a memory. There are many things I don’t remember but there are SO many things I do. I remember seemingly unimportant minute details of events years ago. They’re not unimportant to me. But people don’t appreciate them.
It’s clothes that get me today. Every item has a memory. A lot of my clothes don’t fit and I don’t have a lot of money or credit to buy new ones, but I can’t go back to the old. Because everything has a memory. The shirt I’m wearing today I wore on East Wing 2. I wore it the last day I saw Wendelien. The green capris I bought with Sarah when I got fired from St. Mad’s and wore to an interview at Alpine. The pink sweater with puffy sleeves is from Meeting of the Minds 2008 and I can’t wear my nice gray pants that now fit without remembering/reliving the Hell at H&R Block. Each sweater, shirt, jacket, sock, or pair of underwear has a memory, tells a story. There are sets of clothes that go with different periods of my life. I don’t want to go back there. I want something different. Something I can tack a new memory to. I can’t let go of my past if I’m literally wearing it every day.
So what do you do when you’re surrounded by and clothed in memories you don’t want to remember?
It’s similar for objects I own and the primary reason I don’t get rid of things. If I lose the thing, I don’t remember the memory. Even if I don’t want to think about it all the time, I don’t want to forget.