My rocky relationship with the colour yellow

When I was little, my bedroom had yellow walls and from the point I could speak to when I moved into my new room, I hated my yellow walls and I desperately wanted to paint them pink. Now however, about a decade later, yellow is my favourite colour on the planet. I have a few theories behind it. My mental health went a bit foggy and weird for a few months last year and when I came out the other side, my eyes were drawn to the yellow in every room because I could focus on it and it made me happy. In my head it had connotations of open skies with bright sunlight, sunflowers and buttercups.

My second theory occurred to me when I saw some baby pictures the other day: I found that my mum dressed me in yellow constantly. I’m talking head to toe, borderline garish yellow outfits. That same day, I realised I was the happiest little kid in the world, without fail I had a cheesy smile in every picture, I was just so clearly in love with everything. I think somewhere in my brain this ridiculously happy little kid exists and it has subtly effected some of my actions over the last half a year. Aside from the sudden inclination to buy and wear everything yellow, as I’ve grown up my natural hair colour has become a very dark brown, a big change from the light golden brown I had had when I was younger. In January I became obsessed with the idea of dying my hair back to that golden brown and I did it a few weeks later. It’s had mixed reviews; my dad was convinced this was my natural hair colour all along and that I must have dyed it before, my granddad hated it and felt compelled to double check that I could dye it back if I wanted to, my friends told me it made me look a lot less pale, gave me a bit of a glow. But none of this was important, for me it just made me happier. I have noticed a strange change in my attitude since the yellow and the hair: I’ve been far less stressed out and angry. Maybe this is all some deep rooted psychological problem but the way I see it is that I lost myself a little bit over the years, I had become a ball of stress, quite short tempered, self-conscious and constantly, cripplingly aware of other people’s judgements, the yellow and the hair just helped me back to that more carefree and happy version of myself.

My final, more out there theory involves synaesthesia. I have always been someone who had very strong senses, colours were always very bright to me, I’ve always had strong feelings about textures, and I’ve always linked my senses to each other and my emotions very naturally. It’s very difficult to explain but certain memories have a certain colour I attach to them, certain places have attached themselves to a particular smell. I could probably tell you what colour each person in my life is. While I understand other people have a much stronger synaesthesia, in my case I do think that it has affected my love of yellow. All the happy memories and the positive people in my life are yellow.

I’ll finish this by saying, if any of you see a girl dressed as an oversized toddler, head to toe in yellow with golden, slightly gingerish (the struggle of box hair dye) hair, she may look absolutely bizarre but try not to judge too much because she’s probably pretty damn happy.

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