I once thought I would never greet a day without color. Since my first memory formed, every sound, every lyric, every number, every date, every person, emitted a hue of a color and it made life that more interesting and mysterious.
It was like a secret code I cracked in the world or something. I was more creative and spontaneous. I thought anything and everything was possible and absolutely nothing could hold me back. Every dream was achievable in my eyes no matter what. Everyday was bright and lively and I could reach for the stars and beyond that.
I thought it was normal to think this way. That everyone had this gift. Certain colors had to stick with certain things and that’s how anything in the world would work or function. It wasn’t until I explained what was going on in my head that I was met with confusion and awkwardness. It was then that I realized that maybe the world wasn’t as bright and colorful as I had once thought and that frightened me.
I remember a situation where I once had to go against my instinct and color a project something that it was not. It practically shook every bone in my body, it went against everything that I was. I didn’t understand my reaction to this or why, but I was confused and I felt displaced and questioned if I was even sane. I didn’t want to live or participate in a world that was so bleak, where everything was on a constant cycle of emptiness.
It was during that same time that the colors started to waiver. I guess most would call it a reality check. I realize you can’t always be a dreamer, that life maybe wasn’t as beautiful? I slipped into a depression that took over everything that I was. I fought back as hard as I could, still grasping for that wide-eyed dreamer I once was. Eventually it got worse and took control of me.
The colors stopped. It was the day I felt so broken and weak that I didn’t even want to fight anymore. Being the careless dreamer that I once was, I had unconsciously set myself for failure and disappointment. I just didn't like looking into a world that was so bleak and dim. I didn't understand how to function or see the world anymore. My mental illness had taken complete control and my mind officially turned against me. How exactly are you supposed to go against yourself? How can you fight your own mind?
I had to take a step back from everything. I reevaluate what was going on around me and how I can find my place in it. This is where the reality check I mentioned before came into play. I realized that no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t just be a dreamer. Yes, I can still hold on to that, but a small portion had to be focused on the reality of my life. There was a balance that I had to consider and that was that I have to always consider the reality behind the fantasy, because that was the only way I can make it real and not be completely shocked if it ever fell through. That’s how I fought back my own mind, that’s I how I finally took control of my illness instead of the other way around.
I guess in a sense I had to grow up and accept not everything will turn out that way I want. Even so, that doesn’t mean I can’t aim for those dreams, I just had to be more careful along the way. Once I accepted this and took my life back, I could finally breathe. Everyday became just a little bit easier and the world outside was absolutely beautiful.