You were never given a manual for this language, yet your body has been fluent all along. The shades you reach for in quiet moments, the tones that soothe you when everything feels loud, the hues that suddenly feel “too much” are not random preferences; they are emotional weather reports. Red may arrive when you’re ready to stop disappearing. Blue may wrap around you when your nervous system is pleading for rest. Yellow might only start to feel possible when a little hope dares to return.
Notice how your eyes linger on certain colors in shop windows, artwork, or nature, and how others make you recoil. That flinch is information. Curiosity, not judgment, turns color into a gentle guide. When you ask, “What is this color giving me that I don’t know how to ask for?”, you begin to see it clearly: the palette around you is a conversation with the parts of you still waiting to be heard.
