Amanda-Leigh's Awakening in Literature

When I was a small child, no gut instinct told me to run away from reading children’s books. I learned the A,B, Cs at home and watched National Geographic Explorer documentaries at an early age. I was surrounded by the arts. The arts includes pottery, paintings, ripping up old dresses to make homemade costumes for small skits, cutting out pictures of magazines to make something creative, and using the mind to better society. This is the life of an artistic person. An artistic person does not walk into a corporate craft store and purchase a decorated item that has already someone else’s creative idea painted. Quite the contrary!

An artistic person forms a creative idea into the mind, makes notes down on paper, and seeks out the needed resources. Creating a project takes hours planning. This includes figuring out a budget for materials, what materials will be needed, and where to find these materials at low prices. An artist person is not wealthy when it comes to money. There is no love of money for an artistic person. Creating a project is a heart’s desire and nothing more. This is not a selfish relationship. There is no thought on the end result of what the artist will be taking out of the project.

When I reflect on literature, this is the way I feel. I do not get monetary gain for writing early each morning.  I write to my heart’s content each morning because I feel driven to do so. Writing provides me with a strong voice. At the moment, my natural voice is hoarse. My regular voice is soft and quiet. My voice has often times been misrepresented to be something other people have viewed cruelly. So, I consider writing each morning as my morning glory to the world.

When I was married to my first husband, his mother did not like how quiet my voice was. In fact, she believed my quiet ways were not good for her son. When I was in my twenties, I accidently dialed a wrong number. A woman called back and I did not answer. She kept calling my phone number all night until I had to call the police through Relay to ask them to have this woman stop calling my number. Once more this woman called to apologize to me and wanted me to call her back so she could get to know me. After listening to this woman’s word choices on my answering machine, I decided it would be in both of our best interest that I not call back. I appreciated this woman’s apology and that she wanted to get to know me. I did not want to place myself in a potentially bad situation.

My natural voice is something I don’t want to be made fun of by other people. This is why I prefer to text friends and family. My husband has never once made fun of my voice. My husband likes to hear my voice. He also likes to hear what I have to say on paper. I am only able to say limited sentences with my natural voice. Writing allows me the freedom I need to express myself. When I read literature, I am able to better understand literary characters who may seem undesirable or scorned by society’s naked eye. When I read, I am able to dress these characters in clothes and voices that represent them better. Most of these characters have weak voices in their society that need readers who will be empathetic to them.

I have learned from reading great works of literature that I do not owe anybody an apology for being physically disabled. The time it took me to accept myself was twenty nine years. When I blogged about living with Cerebral Pasly and extended my support network, I discovered other men and women experienced the same daily challenges. These were people I wanted – and needed – to surround myself with. I did not need to surround myself with people who were going to take advantage of me or use me as a sex object. I do not degrade myself by calling myself a “cripple.” I do not call myself the word that rhymes with “witch.” I do not make fun of my disability, even though I do laugh when necessary.

What makes me so uncomfortable with Arlene (from my previous writing) is the resemblance she had with the way I was before getting blood clots. As a woman who felt lost, I felt empathy with this woman. I did not wear the make-up and clothes she chose but I did hide myself through food and men. I believed I was only good in this world for being used and taken advantage of. I took the Biblical passages of helping people out to be literal. This landed me in several bad situations. I wound up being victimized and becoming an undesirable.

What bothers me the most about Arlene – and Mrs. Edna Pontellier from The Awakening by Kate Chopin – is everything I have come to learn since July 23, 2010. I was a young newlywed who had recently moved to Norman, Oklahoma, from a town I loved because no psychiatrist would accept my husband’s medical insurance. Three weeks into the move I developed blood clots. During this time I experienced an awakening, or a renaissance. This awakening had nothing to do with the sexual awakening Edna Pontellier felt when she swam in the ocean. My awakening became one that changed me forever. This led me to finish my college education and write more.

When I lost my natural ability to read literature during the months I was on Warfarin Sodium without Celexa, there was a helpless feeling inside. For the first time in my life, I learned what being vulnerable meant. I was not an immortal person. My life could no longer be romanticized. I had to face reality and take responsibility. I felt led to educate other women through this voice I had found. No longer being able to open a book and be able to concentrate became one of the most devastating feelings this world had ever shown me. As much as I suffered, this was exactly what I needed in order to better in my life.  

The biggest different between Arlene, Mrs. Pontellier, and me is that I am the only woman who does not have a child. Arlene’s daughter, Champ, is around twelve years old. Mrs. Pontellier’s children are small. Instead of behaving and dressing the way respectable mothers should, these women engage themselves in brief relationships with men. Their children’s feelings are not taken into consideration nor are their emotional needs being met. There are no children’s advocates in either story. These women can justly be viewed as selfish, self-centered, and living for themselves. These women do not appreciate the roles of being a woman or motherhood. These women self-destruct before our very own eyes.

This is disappointing as a reader. I try to be an optimist when reading a story but these women are sad cases. There is no hope provided for either woman. In the final scene of  “Miss Clairol,” Arlene gets into a nice car with a strange man and does not hear her own daughter tell her good bye. At the end of The Awakening, we watch Mrs. Edna Pontellier commit suicide by drowning in water while reflecting on her past. Were these conclusions justified with the sad lives the characters led? This is a very difficult question. Before Arlene opened the door to go outside, she could have realized the value of her children. Arlene could have admitted her decisions were not leading her towards the goals and dreams she had years ago. Before Mrs. Edna Pontellier decided to drown, she could have thought about how much pain her small children and family would experience. Mrs. Edna Pontellier could have realized that her life was worth saving and gone back to the house she had purchased. 

Learning how to believe in the self takes work and effort. One step in the process means completely letting go of everything negative that may be an obstacle. For Arlene, this would mean letting go of meeting strange men along with her current friends who encourage this type of destructive behavior. For Mrs.Edna Pontellier, this would mean taking responsibility and becoming a strong independent woman who will be active as a mother instead of depending on family to raise her children. For me, the process took letting go of food and learning new ways of coping when I am stressed.

Years have passed since my ex-mother in law told her son I was too quiet and my voice seemed too soft. At the time, this extremely negative person’s criticism of me stung deep. My voice is my own. I watched this woman not hug her own young granddaughter when she cried during an Easter family get-together. I watched this woman put her grandson’s head in a headlock and threaten to rip his head off. I listened to this woman encourage her son to live with another woman if we divorced.

I did eventually seek a divorce from this man and his family. What disappointed me the most about this man involved his mind. This man also had Cerebral Palsy and limited speech. This man had three Bachelor degrees in the branches of psychology and a Master’s in Vocational Rehabilitation Counseling. This man could have been anything big but chose not to. In my early twenties, I romanticized this man instead of being real. I believed this man could walk on water almost. The reality of this man only marrying me for the flesh became devastating.

This is the reason I strongly encourage other women to wait for a really good strong man. When my husband visited me for our first Thanksgiving, he slept in another room. I slept in my room with my door closed. This made me feel safer as a woman and also showed me this man respected my body. Something happened to me as well. No longer did I see myself as being unworthy of love. I began to feel the love of God again. I began to want to do better in my own life. I still kept my independence as a woman. My personal happiness did not depend on this man but on the man above.

In Celebrating Recovery, my husband has had to discover the main person his addiction hurt was himself. When I began to stray away from the Protestant religion, the main person I hurt was myself. This led to my poor decisions with men, low grades in college, problems with weight and food, and not feeling like I had a purpose in life.  So, I settled. I settled because I believed that was I could do. Granted, I did not have young children whose lives I affected by my poor decisions. I did, however, have loved ones who cared about me and were hurt by my decisions. As I put myself in bad situations, I also put their lives at risk.

When Arlene lets strange men come to her home to pick her up, she also put her entire family at risk. These men she chose as dates had no ties with her family. These dates’ criminal history had not been checked out. Since Arlene was raising a young daughter, a date could possibly have been a sexual predator or worse, a rapist who could murder the entire family. These fancy cars could have been stolen through illegal activity. These dates could lead to the death of Arlene. These dates could also lead to the transmitting of an STD or HIV. These dates could lead to domestic violence or stalkers. The simple point is that Arlene does not know. This is a potential risk Arlene takes every time she decides to get dressed up to go on a date.

Since I do not have first-hand experience with raising a child, I am unable to relate to Arlene and Mrs. Edna Pontellier on a personal level. Losing the gift of being able to have a child makes me appreciate the love of motherhood more. Perhaps this could be the reason I am disgusted with these two characters even more. I do not feel jealous. I would never want to become like either character. I feel terrible for the children who are being victimized in both stories. These mothers do not make any sacrifices for their own children. These mothers do as they please without even noticing their children’s needs for tenderness and love.

Right after I had my hysterectomy, I would go to the bus stop and wait for the bus to come. While I was waiting one time, a beautiful little girl almost ran into the street. The only thing her young mother did was scream and tell her to come back. Another time a young girl with ADD threw a rock at my foot. While I was having a hysterectomy, a young single homeless woman with two small children was delivering her baby. A couple months later, my husband watched her grab one of her children by the shirt and pulled him to her.

I could not handle all of this. With the conclusion of this writing, I am going to put Mrs. Edna Pontellier and Arlene to rest. I am now wondering if these two female character’s isolated lives were written into literature as a warning for modern women. Perhaps I am not as appreciative of these two particular characters the way I am with several others. Perhaps I am being too judgmental and not understanding them the way their creators intended. Perhaps my experience with a hysterectomy prevents this from taking place. The female creators of these two characters make no apology for the way their behavior.

As a woman with limited skills in speech, I decided to walk away from the female caller who decided call me all night. I did not feel the desire to make an apology for something I had no control over. My speech is still a topic I get sensitive over. At the time, I just wanted the caller to stop making harassing phone calls on my answering machine.  This woman knew nothing about me and my safety net prevented me from getting hurt further. I keep this safety net nearby these days. I have grown older and I am not as young as I once was. My life is more valuable to me. I now have a husband and child to think about.