A Blue Woman

As a child Mom dressed me in blue. My little sister wore pink. For years I believed that my favourite colour was blue. I remember a conversation with my sister years ago where she angrily stated that I should not of bought a pink robe because pink was her colour.

Anxiety and depression has been part of my life since my teens. Episodes have varied in intensity depending on the trigger. I can remember completely forgetting algebra formulas that I had spent hours memorizing because of the fear of failing. Spiraling into constant crying when an aunt I barely knew died or being so angry and focussing it on one particular family member when it was really about me.

Blue is how I have lived most of my life. It can not be my colour. It has traditionally been seen as a boy’s colour. Strong and daring and able to take care of themselves. For me it is a serious colour tied to a decision to always be okay, to not need any help, to be strong and independant. The person everyone else can rely on. The soft pink centre ignored in favour of the tough blue exterior.

I am embracing the pink girl by making public her soft side. It is a brave step to take. The steps have been small and until recently relatively private. A pink chair, a painting of a garden full of pink blossoms. Family commented. Thought the decisions to decorate my home with pink was amusing. No one expected me to embrace such an old fasioned sensibility. After years of being sensible, being dependable and doing for others, I needed to be pink.

Today my hair is pink which was a very blue decision. It was a brave decision made with the knowledge that it was a very public statement.

Being Blue is part of who I am and who I will always be. Now I recognize that it is important to take care of myself and tell the world that I am also Pink. A brave woman who fights every day to be better. A Blue Woman acknowledging her need to be Pink.

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