Just read this article this morning.
It is her boredom and resentment that makes her appear cold, the adjective used for Betty perhaps more than any other. There is no doubt she is a cold character, but the apparent irksomeness of that trait to a modern audience is interesting. Perhaps we still struggle to come to terms with the idea of a mother whose heart isn't really in it; who, although she may love her children in the broad sense, resents the limitations the role thrusts on her and finds it all … well, tedious.
In the last three years I've had to struggle with the dual role of wife and mother. And while I relish the playtime Aidan and I have together, last year, 2009, was a constant battleground to find meaning and purpose in what I do. Quiet domesticity revolving around my child just didn't suit. I resented the confines of my four walls, quietly raging in the cage of my being.
I confess, I am not the perfect mother. (Not that anyone expects that of me! Haha...)
I'm hardly calm under pressure, and a 3 y.o.'s antics can often drive me up the wall.
I resonate with Betty's "Go watch TV. Go upstairs and play, get out of my way, I'm BUSY!" mentality.
I can, however, say my heart IS in it, because there is genuine warmth and affection. But it really wasn't until late last year when I found purposeful work that I felt whole, fulfilled.
I can imagine why Sylvia Plath stuffed her head into the oven (no disrespect) if all she could fathom was the endless tedium of cleaning, washing, caring, being responsible. Betty has the luxury of domestic help, but is still bored.
Living without purpose, how boring! The endless routine of self-indulgence then guilt and loathing.
The irony is, while Plath and Draper were stuck because of their lack of choice, I felt stuck because of my plethora of choices.
Should I work or stay home? If I worked, will I do my child a disservice? Yet if I didn't, would my internal frisson boil over and burn him as a result? How about I do both? Yet what job can I even do? Who would even hire me?
On and on it goes, the internal monologue of fear.
This year, 2010, presented a slightly different picture...I had work. I started to make friends outside of my usual circle, I found new interests in vintage fashion, continued my Italian class, started baking again. And selling them cupcakes!
While life's yet to reach perfection (and I doubt it ever will!) my struggles are different. Happier struggles, if that's possible.
The sight of an empty and clean kitchen sink brings me PROFOUND joy. I don't know why.
And onward I go...
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