Hello Readers!
Today is the day to write about Sylvia Plath. For those of you who do not know who she is, she is an American Poet, who I am obsessed with! Why? Because I believe that there is a little bit of her in me.
Sylvia Plath was married to Ted Hughes, also a poet, and they had two children together. Sylvia suffered from depression, and committed suicide at the age of 30. Her death goes like this: She sealed the kitchen with wet towels and clothes, while her children were in the other rooms. She turned on the gas, and stuff her head in the oven. She died of carbon monoxide poisoning in the kitchen. CRAZY!
However, some believe that she did not INTEND to commit suicide. Hmmm...does that not sound intentional?
Anyway, so it's not her death that makes me feel this connection with Sylvia. Let me explain. I was introduced to Sylvia Plath by a professor at the age of 23. I had read her poem "Daddy". I thought it was great! I loved that she referred to her father as a Vampire and a Nazi (indirectly). So, I continued to read her poetry and one day it JUST HAPPENED! I came across this little quote that changed my life!
"The truth comes to me. The truth loves me." --Sylvia Plath.
I would like to say, that the first time I read this quote, I realized I was not crazy. If I was it meant that so was Sylvia Plath and I was not alone, and that made me feel ok with being crazy. You see, for many years I felt that my dreams and these intense feelings I felt were truth revealing itself to me; however, when I would share them with others, they would look at me as if I was crazy. They would say "you're just over analyzing everything." I felt it, though. I knew it was truth speaking to me.
As I continued to read more about this belief that Sylvia had about truth, I realized that the feelings I felt after truth revealed itself to me where also perfectly normal. I was angry, miserable, and doubtful. It drove me insane to feel this way! I even thought that I was insane. I never understood why I would feel this. I remember discussing this with other people, and they all denied to ever feel that truth spoke to them. So, then I began to think if I was crazy and if it was a bad thing? Did this mean I was mentally ill? OR was this completely normal? Then I would think, "Well, Sylvia can relate to me. What would she say?" I kept going over this in my head for a long time, until one day everything began to become true.
All of my dreams begin to come alive, and my feelings were being confirmed. The truth did come to me, and it did love me because it was helping me recognize what I wouldn't have on my own; however, it also made me incredibly miserable because I was not willing to accept it. I was too young and naive to want to accept truth as a gift. Instead for a long time I considered it a burden. I fought against it, yelled at it, and ran away from it. It took me 5 years to learn to accept it. I am now 28 and barely accepting truth as a gift. I do not believe I am crazy for feeling this, nor do I think I am not. All I know is that Sylvia Plath has taught me that I am not alone, and that truth does come to us. It may not be revealed to us in the same way or the same time, but it comes.
There are a lot more connections between Sylvia and Me; however, I did not want to bore you with all of them in one reading. I've decided to spread them around. So, stay tuned if interested! :-)
If you would like a little bit of background on her just click on this link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sylvia_Plath.
I hope you guys have found this piece entertaining. If you have any questions, please ask. If you have any comments, please comment away!
-Denise
P.S. It's freaken HOT in my side of Cali today!
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