When picking out the color scheme to decorate my small room in my new apartment back in August, yellow was the first that came to mind. A color that is bright, vibrant, intense, and warm all at the same time. The color that we used to use to doodle the greatest source of light we know—the sun—with smudged and bending Crayola in elementary school. Yellow signifies happiness, hope, and optimism—a combination I decided that I so direly needed in a time of political unrest, a pandemic and my lowest moments of depression.
Fast forward into the academic year, and we reach today. My roommates and I had our “normal” lives (although, nothing is ever truly “normal” these days) pulled out from under us when we got a call Friday morning that one of us had tested positive for the virus that has disrupted the entire world for months. We parted in a way that left me feeling empty, overwhelmed, and anything but happy, hopeful, or optimistic. Despite my yellow comforter and the bright sunflower stickers that line the walls, my little apartment did not heal my inevitable breakdowns and “I-am-not-leaving-my-bed-today” moments, but it did always provide me with a source of comfort.
I would tuck myself in, burying myself in the warmth of the color, allowing me to wake up each morning surrounded by my own personal sunshine. So, you can imagine my fear when I was told I had to leave my yellow safe haven, and march out into the world—or rather, into isolation—solo. I am never 100% confident in anything, but I was confident that I could not do this, definitely not alone. My roommates had been my backbone all school year, aiding and guiding me through my greatest struggle with mental health yet.
Nonetheless, I had no choice, we had to leave.
And so, my room, placed in the corner of our small Eaton Street home, sits silently and emptily as I begin my period of isolation, in a New Hampshire house, due to yet another COVID-19 scare.
I feared my wandering mind, which battles off anxiety and depression each day. I felt that I would be a hazard to my very own well being in these two weeks. However, slowly, and to my surprise, I am beginning to become comfortable with myself. Between the lengthy walks, speedy runs, meditation, and lakeside sunset homework sessions, I have come to realize that yellow does not just have to be the color that adorns my bedroom. I can find yellow in a simple hello from a passing stranger (in our masks of course), the beauty of a four PM silent sunset, and a call to a friend.
Yellow is everywhere. Even when the world feels dark, hopeless, and pessimistic. Find the yellow.