Notes on Airless Spaces
p.4 “When critics dismiss these friendships as symptoms of illness rather than a legitimate attempt at community building, they deny the personhood of those who cannot “recover,” people who end up getting left behind has Esther moves toward normalization.”
This sounds like intentional dehumanization, potentially
even rooted in misogyny. The dismissal and denial of community is also a method
of control. Isolation can make and/or keep people “mad” and thus keep
them in requirement of “care” (a case could be made for this scenario
in “The Yellow Wallpaper”). Control under the guise of healing is
also a plot point in many a modern horror story and psychological thriller –
Grady Hendrix’s “IKEA” horror comedy Horrorstör comes to mind, since it plays with Foucault’s idea of
discipline and punishment and the iconic panopticon.
p.8 “Graphic novels and comics, Gross argues, are important modes of communicating trauma: they can present experiences of disability in images when words fail. This is especially important when dealing with mental illnesses which have symptoms that may be impossible to express in words and are also often invisible to others.”
Visual media representation (that is accurate and empathic) is
so important, especially nowadays
when more people are reading comics and watching TV/movies rather than reading
novels or short stories. I also admit there have been several instances in my
own life when I wished I had the artistic skill to visually express what I was feeling
with regard to my anxiety & depression, and my executive dysfunction because
my words were failing me or generally getting jumbled up/not making any sense,
and other people just weren’t understanding what I was trying to say. Visual
art and media can be so incredibly powerful and sometimes people just have no
idea just how much power a poster or a TV appearance can be.
Overall, this reading interested me because of the diversity
involved with the project. It made me interested in writing the whole book to
see a diverse set of writers talking about a diverse set of issues and topics within
the larger discussion of disability studies.
Notes on The Snake Pit
p.113 “If people think you’re crazy, they don’t listen to you.”
Coupled with a line on p.109 about the importance of patient
experience, it’s very hard to get successful treatment when your doctors don’t
listen to you. I had a psychiatrist I had to quit seeing because he wasn’t
listening to what I was really saying, and it was like all he heard was
“insomnia” and “depression” so he essentially just threw
Welbutrin and trazodone at me and called it a day. He barely even talked to me,
and I was only ever in his office for like 15 minutes at a time. It was frustrating,
and I hated going every month, since he wasn’t listening, and the medications
weren’t working, and I told him they
weren’t working. I finally found a therapist who, though she can’t prescribe medication,
listens to me and talks to me. She’s been more help than
any meds have ever been. It’s fortunate that I’ve been in a situation where I
can choose to quit an unhelpful doctor and find another. Many people aren’t so
lucky.
p.116 “Sometimes a sick animal knows more about how another sick animal should be treated.”
Sometimes the best help comes from someone who’s been where
you are and understands. Sometimes doctors only have a theoretical, superficial
understanding and not an experiential one,
and therefore don’t know what it’s actually like being ill. That lack of
understanding can lead to frustration on both ends at best and gross
mistreatment (both medically and socially) at worst.
p.118 “They reached out to their patients. […] Some suggestions were as radical as simply calling the patients by their names.”
This really shouldn’t be so radical! The fact that people
don’t seem to grasp basic human decency is appalling. Utterly astounding that
basic courtesy can lead to vast improvements in interpersonal relationships
does unrecognized. Talk to people. Use their names. Listen to what they’re
saying – they typically know their own lives better than you do. They live them
after all. They live with their minds/bodies every day. You don’t.
In general, I think it’s important that this chapter
emphasizes in several places that recovery is rarely linear. Relapses happen. Something
can trigger an anxiety attack or a nervous breakdown. The important fact is
that we’re trying to recover and working toward recovery, and a little support
from our supposed professionals and a sense of community can go a long way.
Notes on The Yellow Wallpaper
The whole “doctor knows best” trop really needs to
be modified. The doctor may know how to treat maladies, but they don’t know
what the patient actually lives through. They need to listen to their patients
to have any hope of success. The patient knows their own body/mind. They live
with it. Every day. The doctor doesn’t. Even in the case of The Yellow
Wallpaper, the doctor husband and doctor brother don’t live with the patient day
in and day out. The husband is away during the days and sometimes even away
overnight. So he’s not there day in and day out.
There are several instances where it reads like the
narrator’s husband is keeping her ill as a means to keep her close and
controlled, since he’s often away from the house. He has her completely isolated,
and even though this was supposedly a common treatment of “nervous
disorders” back in the day, the fact that the narrator isn’t allowed to
see any friends or family at all, and if she weren’t in a beautiful ancestral
home (in need of renovations), she might as well just be locked up in an
asylum. She, the narrator, is absolutely convinced that she would do better if
she just got to see some friends and family, had a little bit of stimulation,
but her husband, “the doctor” keeps her isolated and “controlled.”
Keeps her insane. After all, I think we’ve established this semester that isolation
can cause insanity. Human beings are social/pack animals.
The fact that the doctor-husband clearly “knows
best” and won’t even listen to his wife is telling. The level of control
there is alarming. A case can be argued that the doctor-husband fainted in the
end of the story because either he realized he couldn’t control her anymore, as
the narrator explicitly states, or he was utterly astonished to be incorrect in
his treatment/diagnosis, because obviously he knows best, and she was improving
physically (and wouldn’t even listen to the possibility that her mind was
deteriorating).
It could even be said that it wasn’t the wallpaper itself
that drove the narrator mad. It was the isolation, the lack of stimulation and
any real companionship outside of her illness. The wallpaper was the only
stimulating thing available to her that she could focus on, since she wasn’t
allowed the creative outlet of writing – hiding her writing had exhausted her
to the point where she couldn’t even do that anymore. She was essentially completely
alone with no companionship, no stimulation, and a semi-checked out husband.
That would drive anyone mad, even the healthiest person in the world.
Notes on Tulips
I’m not really sure what to say about this poem. Part of it reads
like the poetic speaker is being treated without being listened to at all. Like
the poetic speaker is just being loaded up on sedatives to keep her compliant
and “happy.”
I’m not even sure what the tulips are supposed to mean,
since traditionally red tulips are indicative of pure/true/eternal love, which
seems incongruous with the rest of the narrative. Plath has always been
difficult for me to parse out, but especially here, since I’m not sure what’s
really going on outside of the sedatives and hospital bed.