SYLVIA PLATH

 

Every man and every childhood is full with frustrations; we cannot imagine it otherwise, for even the best mum cannot satisfy all her child´s wishes and needs. It is not the suffering caused by frustration, however that leads to emotional ilness but rather the fact the child is forbidden by the parents to experience and articulate the sufferings, the pain felt at being wounded; usually the purpose of this prohibition is to protect the parent´s defense mechanisms. Adults are free to hurl reproaches at God, at fate, at the authorities or at society if they are deceived, ignored, punished unjustly, confronted with excessive demands, or lied to. By no means are they allowed to express their frustrations. Instead, they must repress or deny their emotional reactions. This can lead to all possible degrees of emotional illness and even suicide.

Sylvia Plath´s life was no more difficult than that of millions of others. Presumably as a result of her sensitivity she suffered more intensely that most of us from the frustrations of childhood, but she experienced joy more intensely also.  Yet the reason for her despair was not her suffering but the possibility of communicating her suffering to another person. In all her letters she assures her mum how well she was doing. The suspicion that her mother did not release negative leters for publications overlooks the deep tragedy of Plath´life. This tragedy (and the explanation for her suicide as well) lies in the very fact that she could not have written any other kind of letters, because her mother needed reasurance, or because Sylvia at any rate believed that her mother would not have been able to live without this reassurance.

Plath, in any case, is unable to mourn over this because she has guilt feelings, and the letters serve her as proof of her innocence. But I am not here to judge her but to admire her writings:

You ask me why I spend my life writing?

Do I find entertainment?

Is it worthwhile?

Above all, is there a reason?

I write only because

There is a voice withinn me

That will not be still.

Sergio Calle Llorens