“She was becoming herself, casting aside that fictitious self which we assume like a garment.”
Upon hours and days of pondering about this first blog, I am now seated at Fourth Wall Coffee, determined to somewhat free myself of the concealed truths surrounding the life I’ve been living and the one I’m living now. In other words, I am learning to be more open and honest with myself, and this is one of my first steps forward.
Fourth Wall Coffee is a vintage-looking coffee shop in New Orleans, just a couple blocks down from the hotel I am staying in for the remaining three weeks of my trip. Its courtyard area, which is where I am currently seated, has an antique and idyllic character to it that allows me to somewhat detach myself from the madness that is Los Angeles, my hometown.
Courtyard area of Fourth Wall Coffee down on Gravier St.
I wanted to start off this blog by introducing the phrase ‘causal nexus,’ which is a term defined by the American Psychological Association as “a nexus or connection between phenomena that is one of causation.” In similar terms, a chain reaction or a vicious circle. I believe this phrase can best describe the circumstances of myself and of Edna Pontellier, the protagonist in Kate Chopin’s novel, The Awakening.
Between graduation, post-grad plans, job-searches, and the continuation of my existence as a Pre-Med who was constantly drowned by classes, research, and hospital programs, I have to admit that the entirety of my being was not on this Maymester until I physically arrived on Grand Isle, LA. Having put myself in yet another unfamiliar environment, my automatic response reverted back to the ‘fake it til you make it’ mindset, which is basically to put on as best of a façade as I possibly could. These are new people I’m meeting. They don’t know who I am, they don’t know my past, and they certainly don’t know my battles. They barely even knew my name at first glance, a couple of whom didn’t even know it at all.
Being in Louisiana, I was not only away from the bustling city of LA, but also from my loved ones and, frankly… from comfort. The first day on Grand Isle felt like a fever dream. Between landing at the airport, being struck by the severe humidity and strong wind, and having to settle in at the beach house, it was all simply a beautiful chaos. Despite being away from the comfort of home, I was beginning to feel a new kind of comfort that embraced me in a way I’ve never before felt. This trip felt like a chance to get away from everything else that I had ever known—the academic struggles, the painful pasts, and all the heartbreaks and traumas of life thus far.
There wasn’t much to Grand Isle, if at all, but this little town has so much characters and its people are so welcoming that it was nothing short of rich and whole. Outside of the brief adventures around town—Jo-Bob’s, The Starfish, Grand Isle State Park, Meagan’s Sno-Balls, etc.—the majority of our time was spent bookpacking at the beach house.
Just as Edna and her husband Léonce sat outside their holiday cottage reading a day-old newspaper on Grand Isle, I, too, indulged in the reading of The Awakening on the veranda which oversees the Gulf shoreline. Taking in the same languid ambiance of the place, Edna and I both ventured into the jam-packed yet desolated nature of our hearts.
Being married to Léonce and being a mother of two children, Edna Pontellier’s life has come to a comfortable yet bleak halt. Though she is secure in her family life, this sense of security has come with a catch. Her dreams, passions, and desires all slowly wilt away; her sense of womanhood consumed by wifehood and motherhood. It is not until her vacation on Grand Isle and her meeting of the townspeople that her long-lost yearnings and urges for life is awakened. In a sense, it is as if she has gone back to her youth, where the true fulfillments of life that follow freedom, spontaneity, romance, satisfaction, artistic creativity, and sexual desires are emerging altogether and at once. Throughout her life, Edna has always been a desolate figure, containing her private thoughts and repressing her emotions. Yet although this realization has gradually come to her, it only serves as an accessory to her solitude and self-restrain. Yes, Edna begins to do whatever and whenever she pleases, but this seems to have also augmented her consciousness of the disconsolate life. She becomes more aware of her happy and unhappy days, not knowing the reason behind the latter, and being numbed to the concern of whether to be alive or dead. One thing Edna knows for certain, that she will not lose her sense of belonging of herself to another, and thus decides to succumb to her deep despondency at last.
“An indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled her whole being with a vague anguish.”
Upon getting to know Edna, I couldn’t help but draw resemblances between her and myself. Granted, I am not a mother, nor am I closed to being married; I barely graduated college just about a week ago, for heaven’s sake! Even so, I very much empathized with how she was feeling. I guess if this was to make her feel any better, I am in my 20’s and I frankly do not feel capable of indulging in the freedom for which Edna had longed. Rather, in a similar way, I feel a heavy weight on my shoulder. Something isn’t sitting quite right with me, and I am aware of the anguish and anxiety that frequently cloud my day-to-day, though not the rationale behind them. Maybe not to the extent of being detached to the idea of life or death, but definitely the inability to express myself to others and, consequently, having to live quite a repressed and isolated life.
See, growing up in an Asian household, I was brought up in a home where crying was intolerable, and that doing so would result in punishments. Due to our family reputation back home, too, I was essentially raised as a princess would. Don’t act this way, eat that way, talk this way, and sit that way. Don’t act out in public and always be presentable. Learn to fake facial expressions and circumstances even if it comes at the expense of my own feelings. Don’t get me wrong, I grew up comfortably… as Edna was at the start of the book. But as she and I both came to discover, this comfort comes with a cost. Though, while Edna had chosen to take control of her own fate, I think I’m going to let the flow of life take a hold of mine. And with that, I will end this blog with a poem I wrote once upon a time…
“tough be the surface
sunny did they see
deception they purchase
the heart floats to sea
chained be the lion
by fog they are blind
free as dandelion
numbness it confined
novelty it desiderates
oscillates with the waves
barricade ne’er liberates
so alive in its graves
”