The concept of the Bell Jar is fascinating. To anyone who has been through depression and read The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath, you know just how accurate her metaphor is. You know that the bell jar is palpable. It’s like a hot, sticky air that floats around you wherever you go. It is your own exhalation that you inhale. Your own stench that you live in. The air in the bell jar that you hate is in reality, you. 

Plath claims that when the depression has gone, one will find the bell jar has been “lifted”. I agree with this sentiment, but I believe there are multiple ball jars. Forces that limit and harm us. Some are collectively shared ones that we all live in, such as the bell jar of the patriarchy. Some are more individual. I also believe that bell jars can transform. Mine lifted after depression, just as Plath said it would, but it left a residue. A bubble that I can easily come in and out of. It is not as inherently harmful, but it is innately isolationist. Unless I make conscious effort, my bubble Kees me in my own thoughts, separated from others. Sometimes I like my bubble. I don’t find it stifling in any way and the colorful glow of the soap under light is rather beautiful. When I make human connection, however, I stick my head out of the bubble, albeit temporarily. I get to breathe some fresh air and experience life more clearly. It is a gift to me when I am able to take part in meaningful human connection, even ones as simple as a “good morning” (meaningful is not synonymous with complex).