*As a quick aside to my image choices: my goal is to align the picture of the novel with my own personal copy. Otherwise I will stress myself out picking which book cover is the most aesthetically pleasing, which fits the tone I experienced while reading, and what an audience would prefer.
Now, for the first formal sharing of my inner world through books: The Bell Jar.

I first came across this title when I was in high school. I was in an angsty-teen phase, not fully understanding what mental health was, nor my personal journey with depression and anxiety. I am pretty certain I was researching, “books where the main character is sad,” or “books where the lead feels trapped emotionally.” Likely to nobody’s surprise, both of those searches would have Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar front and center.

At the time, I was an extremely insecure reader and would not touch the book. The description was gripping, sounding like something I would love, but I was terrified that the writing style would feel “old,” and so the book would live on my shelf for almost a decade. The original copy actually never left the shelf—so in my mid-twenties, I bought a second copy during a library reading challenge.

There is no doubt in my mind that whether I read the book in high school for the first time or in my college years like I ended up doing, that the book would resonate with me in a fundamental way. Granted, my reasoning would have been for different reasons and themes. For example, high school me would have hated Esther’s decision to close the door on her passed-out friend in the hallway. College me paused reading to laugh and audibly utter something like, “same.” 

In a similar vein, I think high school me would have daydreamed about getting a Fig Tree tattoo, because I felt so incredibly lost and alone in those days. I had a passion for art and theatre– and I had an affinity for stage management that ran all my extra-curricular and evening hours. If I had a dream at the time, it would have been to find a way to be financially sound while doing exactly what I did for local community theatres the rest of my life. However, society has a different narrative for artistic folks trying to enter college: DON’T. I knew I would have to choose between what I loved or paying my bills. I had a deep-rooted interest in the inner-worlds of the human brain, but with undiagnosed anxiety, I completely doubted my intelligence, reading skills, and abilities as a student. 

The famous metaphor of the fig tree, and specifically Esther’s paralysis of choice was something I lived through daily. Each moment, opportunities for a life I wanted or a life expected of me felt like they were crashing down around me due to my own choices or lack of agency. I felt alone, overwhelmed, and as if I was simultaneously the cause of my own demise while also being completely invisible and out of control for my own fate.

For whatever outcome it might be, I did not read Plath’s novel while I was in high school. I read it in the middle of grad school. My inner child was surprised to discover a metaphor that would have resonated so deeply, but current Alyshia was very clearly on a sound trajectory. She had worked on her mental health, she was actively pursuing a stable (and shockingly respected) career, and she found her own journey to inner peace– unfortunately something Plath never seemed to discover.

When I finally read The Bell Jar, I remember delighting in an entirely flawed protagonist written with the subtleties of a type of feminine rage I was sheltered from naming as a child. Esther is someone you want to see be held accountable, but not someone you want to see fall apart. In fact, her ultimate outcome of inpatient care is what resonates with me most to this day.

I have always had a morbid fascination with inpatient care, and the deeper I fall into rabbit trails encompassing the biases and discrimination within those institutions historically, the greater that fascination grows. As I was refreshing my memory on this novel, I needed to confirm that Esther was held inpatient for such a long time due to perceived noncompliance. However, my own choice of words in review shows just how deeply ingrained we are as a society to stigmatize women in mental healthcare in a systemic approach. Esther was technically non-compliant, but up until she is referred to Dr. Nolan, she is trapped in her own loop of compliance without connection.

On top of that, the image that stays with me is Esther’s first round of electroconvulsive therapy, and the institution’s complete apathy towards the trauma they had put her through. This becomes more terrifying when you discover this moment was a lived experience for Plath. In her journals published posthumously, she is quoted saying, “I thought I was being burned alive, all over, with a great orange flame” (Plath & Kukil, 2000). 

Whether I read this book as a teen or an adult, the role of Dr. Nolan would have stayed with me. There is an intimate experience of reading about an individual who finally, in their own way, says, “I see you, I’m listening, and I believe you.”  Carl Rogers is the psychotherapist who coined the term, “unconditional positive regard,” (Rogers, 1957). While not a new form of terminology, it is only in more modern therapies that we experience trauma-informed care that recognizes the deepest understanding of a human-first mentality.

Sadly, Plath’s personal life ends in tragedy. However, with her one and only completed and published novel, we are given a gift of evidence: individuals are responsive to those who give them space to be seen and heard. Ultimately, Esther agrees to try ECT again—this time, with the guidance of a compassionate Dr. Nolan. It’s a reminder that when systems treat patients like data points, we risk forgetting something essential: these are people with names, families, and lives worth preserving. And when someone is struggling as deeply as silly little Esther, sometimes the support system needs to remember this for the person who cannot see it themselves.

Unconditional positive regard is something I have to attain within my practice as a professional, but when I’m reading works like Plath’s, I am reminded of the people in my own life who could see me at my worst and continued to cheer for me when I felt like I was floundering. It is not a term I need to start and stop with in a counseling office; it is a way to navigate the world. Nobody needs to be a number, everyone can be trying their best in the way they believe is possible.

References

Plath, S., & Kukil, K. V. (Ed.). (2000). *The Journals of Sylvia Plath*. Anchor Books.

Rogers, C. R. (1957). The necessary and sufficient conditions of therapeutic personality change. *Journal of Consulting Psychology, 21*(2), 95–103. https://doi.org/10.1037/h0045357