My green shirt

Yesterday morning I was doing some ironing and I picked up a green cotton polo shirt that I got a couple of years ago from American Eagle. As I was pressing it, I thought about the reason I bought it: I had to have a difficult conversation with someone, and I decided that a new shirt would make me more confident. I’m not really sure if it helped, but the conversation went about as well as could be expected. The bad thing is that I’m reminded of it every time I put the shirt on. Which is why it’s languished in the “to be ironed” pile for most of the summer.

I think I attach memories to objects more than Mike does. Well, that may not be true. But I think I attach negative memories to objects more than he does. He’s more likely to let negative stuff go, while I’m more likely to hold on to it like a pretty pet. Even pictures of better times are hard for me. Over the weekend I had planned to work on some scrapbooking, but some relationship issues I am having with the subject of the photos made it too hard for me to face up to the pictures right now. I threw away many of the pictures of me and my former best friend, and I got rid of a lot of the stuff she gave me. I think one of my many shortcomings is that I see relationships in black-and-white. If someone hurts me, I am not able to be very objective about the things that came before, as if it’s all been tainted. As I wrote that sentence, I realized it’s not a new sentiment for me, that I have actually expressed those same feelings two times before. I can’t decide if it’s a bad sign or a good sign that I didn’t remember writing it until just now.

Anyway, I decided yesterday that what I need is to redeem the shirt, to make some new memories in it. I wasn’t defeated by the hard conversation and I won’t let the shirt be a casualty, either.

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