My Coloured Ribbons

My Coloured Ribbons

By Kody Mackie-Hann

An examination of my imbalanced, hormonal brain shows colours that appear as chemical stains

“She’s grey”, says my doctor

“No you are a youthful yellow”, says my mother.

Yet each shade of colour blends in with one another,

so how do I describe how I feel, if I feel the intensity of every colour?

Appointment after appointment it always stays the same

I feel as though I may be a medical disappointment and with the deepest shade of grey, I am ashamed at the fact I can never agree to new change.

“Learn to be more aware” is what I am told to do, to be able to navigate through the rest of my time

So I go for a walk, take a breathe and try to look on the bright side.

I lay down in the fluffy green grass and watch the nighttime sky and wonder what has become of me

The structural integrity of my seemingly never-ending personality breaks down as quickly as it grows but my ribbon colours do not define me.

I repeat: the colours of my disorders can’t make me who I am, however my behaviours, history and life experiences can.

I’ve realized I’m only as grey as they tell me I am and only as yellow as I want to be.

So that begs the question, who am I?

I am as blue-faced as my Scottish ancestors who fought in the Battle of Culloden, and as bold as the Norsemen who helped create new land.

I am as fiery as my mother who’s aura shines red with passion and love, and as pink as my grandmother who watches from above.

Maybe I am every colour?

That’s okay with me

Because being able to feel from the depths of my colourful soul is quite unique.