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I Am ‘Colorful’ That’s Who I Am
Color permeates all aspects of our lives. It shapes how we perceive the world, it’s an essential part of our identity, and it benefits our health and mind. The dark shades of black and grey, the muck of bleakness was how I perceived my colorful life. I battled with this demon in some way or other since I was conceived. My entrance into this world was not grand by any standards. I exited the womb enveloped in a slimy grey veil, no rosy pink cherub cheeks or luscious red lips like most new born babies. My life began as a melancholy baby and progressed to different and more complicated phases, unknowingly adopting the mask of bright beautiful colors that we learn to wear in order to navigate the world.
As I was growing up, it dawned on me that my complex mind is like a party I was invited to, but I do not know who sent the invitation. My perception of red, blue, yellow and green differed from my friends perception of the same colors. I distanced myself from yellow as it forced me to be bright and cheerful, red signified immense danger and I felt myself drowning in the blue depths of the ocean. I had begun to be apprehensive about what lay in wait for me. At class parties the conversation becomes hushed around me as I move about the room. I found the door, but could not navigate my way to the exit point. None of the voices in my head or my various anxieties have ever been gracious hosts. Yet, the invitation remains, unavoidable and persistent.
For as long as I can remember events had not acted in my favor. As a teenager the worst part of being at the mercy of my own mind, especially when that mind can only comprehend dark, bleak colors such as black and grey. These colors reinforce the fact that I am flawed. I am imperfect. There is something inherently wrong with me. I have always had difficulty seeing through rose-colored glasses. Maybe that’s my illness talking or maybe not. I’ll never know for sure.
Maybe my glasses are extra thick because of what my brain does to me, which by the way, is not my choice. I did not choose grey and black as my primary colors as compared to red, blue, yellow and green. Maybe my glasses have smudges on them making it more difficult to see the blessings in my life.
I know there is no cure for my mental illness. This colorful world doesnt change; I need to change within it. Now I look beyond the greys and blacks and consume all the colors of the rainbow. There will always be a tinge of darkness lurking in the shadows or whispers but for me I am colorful and that is all that matters.
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