I don’t think the color of narcissism is yellow.
It’s just that every time I thought about writing this post, the song Yellow by Coldplay would start up in my head. I am not a huge Coldplay fan and I don’t know their songs very well…so all I get is: And it was all yellow. I’m not sure if those are even the right words. I also have no idea WHY this song keeps circling around. My brain doesn’t always inform me of why it thinks what it thinks.
The comments and emails I’ve read from my other narcissism posts have been familiar and touching and in a way, comforting. I would love the opportunity to sit and talk with every person who has identified with these posts. We are truly sisters and brothers.
One I read, however, created a visceral reaction. I tried to tell Randy what it said and what it meant to me without crying and I failed miserably.
The comment was from a woman named Shelley and her comment talked about how she never formed her own opinions. She said that she only expressed the opinions and feelings of her narc father. She said that as an adult she is average and beige and would like to learn more about her own likes or dislikes but finds the task so overwhelming that she shuts down.
The more I think about this, the more I realize what I have gone through and how much I’ve struggled with just learning how to be. I’ve struggled so many years with feeling nearly invisible. I felt that I had little substance.
Life is painful when you’ve been denied the opportunity to find your very own sense of self. It feels like the little match girl. You know there are lives out there but you are forever outside looking in. We never had the opportunity to learn to be.
From the perspective of a child raised by a narcissist, I would say the color of narcissism is beige.
My house is bright and bold. I have deep red walls and bright yellow walls and some blue ceilings. I LOVE bold colors. I wonder now if my attraction to bold colors are so they can reflect back to me and fill in all the beige places.
I am happy to say that over the years I have managed to scrape together my very own identity. It’s quirky and difficult sometimes but it is all mine. I learn every day to appreciate the person I am and to stop mourning the unknown person that I might have been. That’s not to say that I don’t let the color beige occupy space in me. I’m finding ways to brighten that shit up all the time.
We all need color in our lives and our hearts. We need to feel passionate about what we find beautiful, what we find sad and what we find wrong. Our opinions, our likes and dislikes determine just about everything we do. It decides what books to buy, what jobs to work and how to paint our walls.
Please don’t give up on who you are.
You are valid.
Find a way to bring color into your sense of self. Maybe just a little at time so you can get used to it. Then learn to love and embrace each step without it overwhelming you. I can’t tell you HOW to do that, I’m still learning myself. I know that I have to talk myself into trusting my thoughts and my decisions every day. I am trusting them more easily and quickly all the time.
This post is for Shelley. I’m right here with you, sister.