Green is my favorite color. It’s prevalent in nature (I love nature). It’s the color of money (we all need money). It has many wonderful shades. I love green. This is why I was so confused when I became repulsed by the paint color on a car I spotted in a parking lot. It was not quite a pale green. It was the green equivalent of Pepto Bismal Pink. It was a weak, sorry excuse of a green. I stewed over the cowardly shade of green the entire time I was in the grocery store. As I walked by the Granny Smith apples, I said, now that’s how to be green.
I think I was experiencing displaced anger. It wasn’t the paint’s fault that whomever mixed up the color had poor taste. It may not have even been the paint mixer’s fault. Perhaps he or she was color blind. I continue to be frustrated by the challenges associated with having a family member in the hospital. Phil has told me not to yell at the hospital staff for fear that they might retaliate against him when I leave for the evening, so green was the recipient of my disgust and frustration.
While working (for pay, not my current full-time, unpaid patient advocate duties), I would take out my frustration on my family. That was not nice of me. I was looking forward to retirement, and hoped to be a kinder, gentler family member. I continue to try to be nicer to my family members (especially those who are hospitalized), so that left me unconsciously looking for a frustration release valve when I encountered the sad, soft, sickly shade of green.
Where was my compassion. I should have felt sympathy for the person who had to be seen driving the vehicle. Maybe, I should have tucked a nice shade of green dollar bill under the windshield of the vehicle with a note encouraging the car owner to put the dollar towards a paint job. Maybe, I should have let it go. The problem was, what might fill the void left behind. So, I stand behind my color condemnation. Perhaps a nice shade of green cocktail will sooth my color sensitivities.