Satisfaction: Earned or Yearned?

Akin to perfection, satisfaction is another craving that lives in the depths of my soul—an insatiable hunger that knows no bounds. Being one of the most renowned Russian authors, Leo Tolstoy, with his distinctive propensity to oscillate between scepticism and dogmatism in his writing, once remarked, “If you look for perfection, you will never be satisfied.”

This statement prompts an irresistible question: aren’t perfection and satisfaction inherently linked? They're like parallel concepts, two sides of the same coin—separate yet often crossing paths. Perfection demands satisfaction, which in turn depends on achieving that perfection, whether self-imposed or externally validated.

As a struggling perfectionist, I constantly crave satisfaction as the outcome of my perfection-driven tasks. It’s a vicious cycle: perfection drives my efforts, and yet it is also what I hope to attain. Writing this entry was prompted by my recent sense of failure in my quest for perfection, not just disappointing myself but, in my mind, my teacher as well.

Yes, this is about an exam. It sounds like the simplest of things, doesn’t it? You write it, you submit it, you can’t change how it went or what you wrote once it’s grasped in the invigilator’s hands. But this exam felt like a prelude to my future—a facet that predicts the trajectory of it. And the thought of that terrified me.

Usually, I console myself by saying “What’s done is done,” but not this time. For this particular exam, I wanted to excel in a subject I love deeply, to prove my worth. Yet, after I handed in the paper I wanted to cry, to apologize to my teacher for failing her because I felt like I had. Despite my hard work, I left the exam hall feeling utterly unsatisfied.

While others felt relief after the exam, I forced a smile, pretending everything was fine. Compliments about my abilities felt futile. Deep down, I believed I had written the worst paper of my life. Sure, I took the compliments when they said ‘You’ll be fine, you have nothing to complain about because you’re good at the subject.’ This facade of satisfaction was a defence mechanism, masking the disappointment that coursed through me like poison.

I was dissatisfied with myself, disappointed even. 

It was my final chance to prove my worth, to show somebody—anybody, myself, my parents that I’m good at something. That 'something' was my IBDP subject: English Language & Literature HL.

I had promised myself I would write the best paper I’d ever written, confident in my preparation. Yet, in the end, it wasn’t external obstacles that hindered me—it was my own mind, burdened with the immense pressure I inflicted on myself. Amidst constantly chanting notes, quotes, and lines until the pencil in my grip was ready to snap in half just like my sanity. I blanked, failing to meet my own expectations, and all my effort seemed wasted.

I couldn’t tell my teacher that I worked hard just to not write up to my potential, I couldn’t face her so I just smiled. I spewed little white lies—I said the paper was fine and the questions were perfect. Inside, I wanted to cry but didn’t feel deserving of that release. Despite my preparation, I was my worst enemy, the one blocking my path to satisfaction.

I once read a quote by Richard Carlson: “As long as you think more is better, you’ll never be satisfied.” He was right. I wanted the most from that essay, and though I knew I could answer the question, I couldn’t fulfil my own standards. I couldn’t do justice to it. 

It’s done, it happened but it hurts.

Now, I must move forward. This reflection doesn’t bring complete satisfaction, but it helps me accept the situation. Perhaps I have been catastrophizing, and the paper wasn’t as bad as I believed. It just didn’t meet the high standards I had set for myself.

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Although I cannot re-answer the question from the IB M24 exam, as it could get me in some trouble, I will delve into discussing some aspects of addressing a past paper question.—‘How might the personal history of an author have a significant influence on their writing? Comment on specific instances of such influence in two literary works.’

Using the plays ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ by Tennessee Williams and ‘A Doll’s House’ by Henrik Ibsen let's dive into their historical contexts, lightly examining the societal influences of their respective eras and how they shaped the narratives.

Written in 1947 during the era of dramatic naturalism, Tennessee Williams' A Streetcar Named Desire unfolds in New Orleans, Louisiana, and exemplifies the genre of psychological drama. In contrast, Henrik Ibsen's A Doll’s House, written in 1879 amidst the realism and modernism literary movements, is a realist modern prose drama set in a Norwegian town.

Ibsen, often recognised as the father of Realism, set ADH during the Victorian era to delve into the burgeoning movement for female emancipation in the 19th century. Whereas, Williams aimed to portray the stark divide between the Old South and the New South through his characters in ASCND. Williams’ play spans the post-World War II era in the USA, a period marked by significant economic growth and social change, particularly in the South. This setting, in turn, reflects the Southern Gothic aesthetic and captures the decline of the Southern aristocracy and the rise of the emerging middle class. 

Amongst these eminent settings, the history of Ibsen and Williams is what matters—Ibsen's early life was marked by his family's financial downfall, which profoundly affected his views on societal expectations and individual agency. This background is mirrored in the financial struggles and societal pressures faced by the play’s protagonist, Nora Helmer. 

Fundamentally, Ibsen’s drama manifests his concern for women’s rights, and human rights in general. Adhering to the institution of marriage, breaking it down for society’s understanding, post his marriage with Suzannah Thoreson in 1858—Ibsen wanted to portray his realization that husband and wife should live as equals, free to become their human beings via his play, ADH.  

Ibsen's dramatic portrayal of Nora's transformation throughout the narrative challenges the traditional roles of women and critiques the societal norms that enforce these roles. For instance, Nora's final decision to leave her husband and children in search of self-discovery subverts the expectations of female duty and sacrifice, a bold commentary on the need for societal reform that was informed by Ibsen's progressive views on gender equality.

Whereas, Williams' tumultuous family life, marked by his sister Rose's mental illness and subsequent lobotomy, deeply influenced his portrayal of Blanche DuBois, whose descent into madness is the central theme of the play. Much of the pathos in Williams’ drama was mined from his own life—alcoholism, depression, thwarted desire, loneliness, and insanity. Despite the female characters resembling women in his personal life, Edwina and Rose; his vulgar, irresponsible male characters, such as Stanley Kowalski from ASCND, were modelled on Williams’ father and other males who tormented Williams during his childhood.

The play's depiction of Blanche's vulnerability and ultimate breakdown reflects the stigma and challenges associated with mental illness, drawing parallels to Williams' own life and the struggles faced by his sister. Additionally, Williams' complex relationship with his sexuality and his experiences as a neglected homosexual man in a repressive society is echoed in the character of Blanche. Her sexual exploits and the resulting shame and ostracism she faces highlight the destructive nature of societal judgment and the internal conflict between desire and propriety. 

Williams' Southern background also permeates the play, with the decaying grandeur of Belle Reeve symbolizing the decline of the old South and the rise of a more brutal, modern world represented by Stanley Kowalski. The clash between Blanche and Stanley can be viewed as a reflection of Williams' internal conflicts and the societal changes he witnessed throughout his life.

In this way, the personal lives and experiences of playwrights significantly influence the stories they craft and the messages they aim to convey to their audience. Often, the subjects we are most emotionally attuned to and knowledgeable about are the ones we feel compelled to explore, perhaps as a means of understanding them better or as a subtle plea for help. I firmly believe in the adage that one cannot write about what one does not know.

Essentially, isn't that the essence of discovery? To write and explore what you don't know, in an attempt to get to know it more. To confine oneself only to the known is to deny the boundless potential of imagination. And that's what creating art like poetry is, the exploration of your imagination, the lengths your mind can go to conjure up and arrange words, therefore, creating a form of art. One might even call it an outlet—that is what the plays were for Ibsen and Williams, a means of expressing their inner turmoil in the form of art. 

This notion can be related to what T. S. Eliot once said—‘We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.’ Therein lies a profound truth—that true understanding often emerges from the depths of uncertainty and unresolved trauma. Eliot himself acknowledged the necessity of self-discovery as a precursor to meaningful expression; For how can one hope to illuminate the human condition without first delving into the depths of their psyche?

Fully understanding themselves, Ibsen and Williams drew upon their own experiences and struggles to write their respective plays.

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Glossary:

Catastrophizing - a person fixates on the worst possible outcome and treats it as likely, even when it is not.

Propensity - an inclination or natural tendency to behave in a particular way.

Burgeoning - beginning to grow or increase rapidly; flourishing.

Southern aristocracy - a social class associated with the traditional elite of the American South. 

Grandeur - splendour and impressiveness, especially of appearance or style.

Ostracism - exclusion from a society or group.

Propriety - conformity to conventionally accepted standards of behaviour or morals.

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