Martha's Story
Presented by senior Martha Truslow on Diversity Night 2011
Scholastic Gold Key-winning photograph (self-portrait) by Martha Truslow
I thought nothing of it. As far as I knew, everyone saw what I saw. “Ability” I later heard it referred to, which was quite a relief after realizing that I was the only one I knew that could involuntarily feel and see colors in the letters of the alphabet, objects, and in relationships with certain people in my life. When trying to explain to my teacher that it was unfair that she wrote the letter “S” in green and not canary yellow, its rightful color, she only raised her grey eyebrows in confusion.
“Learning is so hard when all your eyes focus on are the colors of the letters and not the words. And I mean, isn’t it hard for you to study when the letters aren’t in their colors?” I asked a friend. “You’re a freak.” She responded. She shut her book and walked away. “Forest green isn’t even my favorite color. Why would you see it when you’re around me? And what the heck do you mean you feel it?”
I wasn’t making it up. I really did see these colors, I’ve seen them my whole life. And I didn’t understand why they didn’t know what I was talking about.
I had never felt so different and I began to sink into a deep, dark, muddy maroon. I was sixteen and what I thought was the epitome of a teenage freak so I shut up about the invisible pallet that defined much of what I saw and tried to blind myself of the colors. I began writing my study notes in black and white and my grades plummeted. I tried to stop seeing the colors of the people around me and my frustration put a fog around my world. It was soon obvious that my special power was impossible to get rid of and I would see the colors whether I liked it or not.
Synesthesia is a word so strange that spell-check underlines it with a red squiggly (even though it should be a yellow squiggly because of the “S”). And even stranger is its meaning. It is a rare and harmless neurological condition that can combine and involuntarily stimulate an extra sense when using another sense. I am a type of grapheme synesthete, which to be honest, makes me feel like a superhuman. It pretty much means that I see and feel colors, everywhere and in almost everything. My friend from the Rhode Island School of Design asked me if it was like “I was on an acid trip, like, all the time?” I guess, if you want to think of it that way, sure. Minus the acid. I see a world of colors that can kind of rival that of Avatar. I must clarify that I can see things the way that everyone else sees but I can also see things my way. I like my way a little better, to be honest.
But nobody is perfect and with every ability comes disabilities. I still have to google how to spell ‘synesthesia’ because of my dyslexia. Traditional learning has always been a huge challenge that I have had to face my whole life and my dyslexia explains my frustration in the classroom. And in combination with all these colors around me – gives you one distracted student.
But both the dyslexia and the synesthesia are a part of me. My junior year I had an uncontrollable itch to explore my artistic side so that I could further understand myself. I signed up for my first high school art class and fell in love with the luminescent, yellowy-red it made me feel.
Art is my way to compensate. I don’t have to follow formulas, spell things correctly, read out loud and I certainly don’t have to feel like a freak for feeling and seeing colors. Art is my escape, my security and my reassurance in myself. It is the one thing that allows me to combine my unusual ability and my frustrating disability to work to my advantage and defy all of my self-doubts. Art has taught me in conceptual and challenging ways that a puke green math class or a dripping black chemistry class could never compare to.
I may not be a straight A student and I sometimes have to work d*** hard to get a “B.” But I’ve found my place. And my peace. Most importantly, I now know that it is okay to be different – no matter what that means. So if you are in any way struggling in these four years to fit into that ‘normal student’ image, don’t let yourself fall into a maroon like I did. I promise, you’ll find your niche.