I can see a color. I can see a color most people cannot. I can see a color that has no name.
The color I can see is deep and intense yet whimsical and fun.
The color I can see is so dark that I need a flashlight yet so bright that I need sunglasses.
The color I can see is brightly present yet absently fading.
It’s like a bright yellow raincoat when I’m standing in the rain.
It’s like an upside down umbrella in a hail storm.
It’s like a nice breeze when I’m standing in a field on a hot day.
It’s like an onslaught of bees when I’m standing on a trail drinking Gatorade.
It’s like a warm fuzzy scarf when I’m standing in the falling snow.
It’s like a pair of not good enough gloves when the temperature drops below zero.
It’s everything beautiful and ugly combined into one.
The color I can see is my life lens, it defines my views, perceptions, ideas and actions.
My color doesn’t have a label. My color is not a mental health disorder or a diagnosis.
My color is just that, my color.
My color is shaped by many things. It is shaped by my brain, by my medications, it is shaped by my diet and my sleep. It is shaped by my experiences. But my color is mostly shaped by people. Some people can see the color, some people emit the color, and some people can only try to find the color in a box of crayons.
And it’s OK if you can’t see my color. It’s OK if you don’t understand my color relationships. It’s OK if my color is so deep in that crayon box that you never find it. It’s OK.
Instead, let’s talk about your color. Maybe our colors can meet in the middle.
Because that’s really what life is, mixing colors.