Imagine if you will that at 19 years old you make a lifelong commitment to a way of coloring your life. From that point on every activity, every friendship you develop, every family choice you nurture and every goal in your life is colored by the stroke of one paintbrush. That lifestyle paintbrush is colored with the tint of antique sepia. It seems old, trustworthy and 100% authentic.
Fast forward to the age of 40 when you’ve come to realize the folly of grasping so tightly to that paintbrush that you were handed at age 19. You want, no, you need a new paintbrush. You want color in your life because the sepia doesn’t live up to its reputation and promise of authenticity. You’ve come to see and know the true color that has always lain within you that the sepia has only succeeded in masking and preserving – not eliminating.
After all, sepia really only indicates decay and lack of authenticity. Colors have always been around. We just didn’t have the ability, the technology or now we don’t have the desire to see them. If we were able to travel back in time, I think the biggest shock would be how colorful and non traditional everything was. Objects weren’t black and white or sepia toned.
Sepia is a chemical treatment to preserve a black and white photograph for archival purposes. It is neither true to color nor authentic. It does increase the longevity of a photograph but it cripples our present view using a handicap that was only necessary in the past.
Once I transitioned to my life of color at age 40, everything I had created or nurtured in sepia for 20 years effectively disappeared.
Friends.
Family members.
Acquaintances.
Life habits, processes and lifestyles.
Where once my skill with coloring life in sepia was shared admired and respected, my interest in color is now seen as vulgar, non-traditional and deviant.
Inside my heart I know true to life rainbow of colors is right for me, but I don’t know how to color in these rich new tones. The choices are endless and sometimes that variety leaves me feeling paralyzed. I lack confidence. Sometimes I pick the wrong color. Everyone around me now has been coloring for 46 years, but I’ve only been at it for 6.
I feel like a child with crayons among adults with canvasses of watercolors, acrylics and oils. It’s thrilling and terrifying at the same time.
Trying to grasp onto anything familiar, I reach back to the time before I narrowed my life down to sepia and reach out to those past friends with whom I dabbled in crayons as a child. They too have been operating with color for 46 years now. They don’t get my awkwardness with it. They offer occasional kind words of encouragement and the renewal of their friendship is warm and inviting.
But I don’t tell them the magnitude of my fear and loneliness. I feel like I’m beginning all over again with nobody by my side, having lost a great deal.
I don’t hate the life of sepia that I lived and I don’t understand why those who stick with it seem to despise me. There is no place for color in a sepia world. I’m willing to acknowledge that sepia may be right for some folks, but I don’t believe it is unquestionably the color for everyone. I see bright neon and pastel colors in my children and I want to scream at them to look around and recognize the rich variety of life while they have a chance to experience it. But a force more powerful than me is tightening their grip around that sepia paintbrush and it pains me to see their stern glazed-over sepia faces take shape.
Even today I am hurting over my awkwardness with color and wanting my children to experience it early on like I never had the chance.
I want to find someone with whom I can explore color and not feel ashamed or embarrassed at my occasional mismatching or fear of some colors. I haven’t found that person.
I understand but I’m dismayed when I hear of someone who elects to turn the lights out rather than be exposed to to the dreary, miserable and lonely colors that come with a full palette. I also sometimes feel like I am drowning in new colors and just want some of my old sepia friends, family and respect back.
But I really don’t.
Once you experience color, you see it and want it everywhere. My choice, ugly consequences and all, is real and authentic. Choosing color was my proudest moment and yet it remains my most difficult life challenge.
colornerd said:
Beautiful! Although not LDS, I relate to escaping a similar religion/religious culture. The weight-off-my-shoulders, lack of stress, and freedom I feel as a result of jettisoning religion is, indeed, like stepping from monotone to a full palette of color. Lovely analogy.
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TGD said:
I wonder, though, why I should worry about what to do with the colors. Isn’t it for me to decide anyway?
dadsprimalscream said:
You’re exactly right and I don’t like using the word “should” in that essay… But I was thinking about a very specific personal situation in which I wanted to fit in and use “colors” appropriate to the situation …but I was feeling awkward. I didn’t want to be so specific though because I wanted anyone reading it to be able to adapt the meaning to their own situation. Your comment is very valid for most situations. THANKS
Jen said:
Wow. this is beautiful and a perfect analogy. Like Kiley, I was crying halfway through.
The part I most identified with is the awkwardness I feel. Knowing that I don’t know how to live in color, but feeling like I should…
Thank you for sharing this!
dadsprimalscream said:
THANKS JEN
dadsprimalscream said:
Thank you Jen
TGD said:
I especially relate to this and my insecurity of how to paint with all the new colors I have.
Greg said:
DPS: Thanks so much for sharing your amazing (even if only crayola) piece. To me it is a masterpiece! Having a gay son has made me look at the sepia in a different way. Adding some color to my life (attending PFLAG) also makes those around me suspicious, and feel like I don’t fit in, that I am somehow different. I guess I am, because I’m peeking out of the box I’m in, and exploring the boxes around me. Actually I’m mostly out of that box, but crawling back in at night (or on Sunday), just to have the company of family. I’m loving the colors too!
Thanks a bunch!!!
dadsprimalscream said:
THANKS Greg… what a lucky son you have to have a father willing to attend PFLAG and try to understand. Much love and good fortune as you negotiate your way in and out of the box.
dadsprimalscream said:
Thanks Greg
Keewon said:
DPS: Amazing, beautiful essay! Could I just suggest that if you give your children the gift of learning to think critically, that will go a long way toward helping them in the future. A small bit of immunization goes a long way toward averting a flu epidemic. I think there are wonderful things to be had in the Church (at least there was/is for me), and I wouldn’t want to jettison it, and I don’t know how else my kids would ever feel what I felt. So I just try to share the things I love with them, as they find their own pathways. I know your experience must have been far different than mine in many respects. I can only imagine how difficult would be to grow up in the Church as a gay man. But I rejoice that you have found color. Thank you so much for sharing some of it with me.
Emily A. said:
I cried when I read this because it feels so true and so in tune with how I have felt during the past year. Thank you so very much.
dadsprimalscream said:
Thanks Emily. I wish you well. Happy coloring!
Ruthie said:
Thank you.
dadsprimalscream said:
You’re Welcome
Dana Dahl said:
This is a wonderful parable and metaphor DPS. I too felt so constricted when I was LDS and often felt like I was handed only two cheap crayons to fill in my life but once I discovered that everyone outside the church (or religion) got the big box of 64 crayons I was determined to find a way to bring all that color into my own life. I too made the ghastly and foolish mistakes but learned from them and moved on. It’s such a classic story or discovery and growth. Your essay is perfect and beautiful. I think it’s broad enough to fit many people in many circumstances, not just Mormonism. Thanks for sharing how scared you were. It’s good to know that it’s possible to overcome those fears. Your selection of art pieces is fantastic.
If you don’t mind, I’m going to share this on facebook and other places.
Most sincerely,
Dahli Mama (Insana Dee)
dadsprimalscream said:
Thank you for your positive comments, Dana, Ahab, Nicole, Cognitive Dissenter! It’s funny because when I wrote this I had sat down to start an entirely different post and then THAT came out. I intentionally kept it vague because I do think it applies to more than just Mormonism or being gay. Share away if you’d like. THANKS AGAIN
Ahab said:
This post was amazing. Your metaphor is perfect.
The Cognitive Dissenter said:
Beautiful post. Perfect analogy.
nichole said:
You have an amazing capacity to express feelings/experiences that I can completely relate to as an ex-mo, but that I seem unable to articulate fully in my own head. This post in particular really strikes a chord. I worry that I’ve forever lost the ability to live in color. It’s like writing with your non-dominant hand. You can get better at it, but it’s always going to feel awkward and wrong.
Trev said:
This is an awesome post. What a great way to express your feelings. Thanks for sharing!
dadsprimalscream said:
Thanks Trev, Kiley and atheistdad… your positive comments mean a lot
kiley said:
I was crying half-way through this post. Thank you. This is a perfect way to illustrate this process we find ourselves in.
atheistdad said:
Wow, this is brilliant, friend. Honest and moving. Thank you.