This post was originally written for and posted on LilySpeak, my quasi-anonymous blog that I nixed when I started writing at Doniree.com.  However, since I refer to this conversation and this perspective from time to time often enough, I decided this post should live on d.com also.

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First of all, you’ll notice I finally added a tagline [Life in Color] to my blog. This post is where I explain it.

I’m giving Nicole full credit for inspiring this post. She just talked about breakthroughs in therapy, and I remembered my first, most influential breakthrough and how it still explains a little about who I am.

I’ve had this conversation with a number of my closest friends, but as I think about this now and reflect on who I’ve grown up to be, it seems so much more so relevant.

Back it up

I think this started back in 4th grade. I remember this particular outfit I wore to school sooo vividly: black tights under a sherbet-orange short-all jumper thing, over a white long-sleeved t-shirt, layered under a hot-pink short-sleeved t-shirt. I don’t know how my mom let me out of the house, but she did and I sported those bright mis-matched colors with pride.

(Side note: I’m still not that great at matching my own clothes and ask my more-stylish roommates all the time if I can leave the house in my current attire).

Then, in 6th grade, I discovered colored mascara – I believe it was Wet ‘N Wild that offered the blue and purple ones, and I made sure I had both.

Sometime in junior high, I discovered what Crayola markers could do to blonde hair and streaked the shit out of it one rainy fall night. I remember the rain because I remember the streaks disappearing in favor of one randomly colorful head of hair (but I still liked it).

In high school, my cosmetology-student friend streaked my hair for me what was supposed to inspired by Christina Aguilera circa 1999:

We didn’t realize how quickly red faded to pink and I ended up sporting this look (for the first of many times) instead:

Fast forward

That brings us to the end of college. Right before I graduated, I kind of freaked out. Growing up, getting a degree, looking for a job, the whole thing just totally stressed me out.

Stressed me out to the point that I started having my Very First Panic Attacks.

I was seeing a guy at the time who’d spent years wrestling with his own tendencies to over-think things, and he’d suggested talking to someone.

A therapist? A counselor? Me?

My life was normal. I mean, yeah I was scared of graduation and the “real world” and all that, but I wasn’t depressed and I didn’t want to start talking about prescriptions. Sure, I had heart-palpitating moments where I thought I was going to pass out from freakoutishness, but that’s normal, right?

Oh, it’s NOT?

Ok, fine. I’d see someone.

I saw her a grand total of three times. But she changed the way I see my life.

We discussed a relationship of mine that was struggling because we couldn’t connect, couldn’t communicate, and couldn’t come close to understanding each other.  I said, about this person, that they “… just see EVERYTHING in black and white, whereas I think I’m able able to see the grey.”

She’d only met with me twice before, she only knew me based on the little bit I’d let her into.

But she looked me square in the eyes and said, “No. You do not see grey. You see life in color.”

You see life in color.

This statement changed my life, and it’s interesting because as I look back at myself between now and then (about 5 years now), and remember who I was before any of that, I see that color – BRIGHT color – has maintained a vivid part of my life. I’ve had hot pink hair, red hair, blue hair, purple hair. I’ve got tattoos, piercings, and loud, bright shoes, belts, purses, shirts, skirts. I have never been content with normal, boring, or average. I crave variety, crave adventure, crave bright color in my life.

That was true then, it’s true now, and I believe it’s been true my whole life. What I want to know now is where this is going to get me? Am I supposed to one day outgrow my love of bright plastic accessories and punk rock hair? Do I need a guy who balances this out or who can keep up?  What do I do with this information?