An attempt to escape, albeit in a slow, humble, and perhaps futile manner.

Flee On Your Donkey #

What method Anne Sexton used to unalive herself? #

Anne Sexton, the American poet known for her confessional style of writing, died by suicide on October 4, 1974. She ended her life by carbon monoxide poisoning. After having lunch with a friend, she went home, put on her mother’s old fur coat, drank a glass of vodka, and sat in her garage with the car running, inhaling the exhaust fumes until she died.

Sexton had long struggled with mental illness, including depression, and had made previous suicide attempts. Her poetry, which often dealt with themes of death, mental health, and personal suffering, reflected the intense inner turmoil she experienced throughout her life.

What do we know about Sexton’s childhood? Parents? #

Anne Sexton’s childhood and her relationship with her parents played a significant role in shaping her emotional life and, by extension, her poetry. Born on November 9, 1928, in Newton, Massachusetts, as Anne Gray Harvey, she was the youngest of three daughters in a prominent, upper-middle-class family. However, despite the outward appearances of affluence and success, her home life was fraught with emotional neglect and tension.

Parents:

• Father: Ralph Churchill Harvey was a successful businessman who worked in the wool industry. Despite his professional achievements, he was an alcoholic, and this affected the family dynamic. Sexton recalled feeling emotionally abandoned by her father, who was often absent due to his drinking. He reportedly showed little interest in her or her emotional well-being, leaving her feeling isolated and longing for paternal affection.

• Mother: Mary Gray Staples Harvey was a more complex figure in Anne Sexton’s life. Mary was described as intelligent, but distant and critical. Sexton often felt undermined by her mother’s condescension and lack of emotional warmth. Sexton believed her mother resented her and accused her of plagiarizing her work when Anne first began writing poetry. There is also speculation that their relationship involved significant rivalry, further complicating Sexton’s feelings of self-worth and identity. Mary, too, struggled with depression, creating an environment of emotional volatility in the household.

Early Life:

Sexton’s early years were marked by emotional instability. She struggled with feelings of inadequacy and isolation, compounded by her parents’ emotional neglect and critical attitudes. These early emotional wounds deeply influenced her later struggles with mental illness and became recurrent themes in her poetry.

Sexton’s mother was a significant figure, both in her early development and later in her emotional life. Sexton often spoke of feeling that her mother stifled her creativity and self-expression. There are also allegations that Sexton may have experienced sexual abuse as a child, though specifics remain speculative. Some biographers have suggested that the trauma she experienced in her youth contributed to her eventual breakdowns and suicide attempts.

Schooling and Adolescence:

Sexton attended boarding schools, where she was described as rebellious, attention-seeking, and often emotionally turbulent. Her school years did not provide the stability she needed; instead, she grew more distant from her family. During this period, she began to exhibit signs of depression, though it would not fully manifest until her adult years.

After high school, Sexton briefly attended Garland Junior College, but her academic career was short-lived, as she was more interested in socializing and rebelling against conventional expectations.

In summary, Anne Sexton’s childhood was marked by a complex mix of affluence and emotional deprivation. Her father’s alcoholism and her mother’s critical nature and emotional detachment created a fractured family dynamic that left Sexton feeling unloved, misunderstood, and deeply insecure. These early experiences of isolation, neglect, and emotional pain became the undercurrents of much of her poetry, where she explored themes of mental illness, familial dysfunction, and personal despair.

What can we say about her poem “Flee On Your Donkey”? #

Anne Sexton’s poem “Flee on Your Donkey” is a complex and deeply personal meditation on the nature of mental illness, despair, and the often fraught relationship between self-destruction and healing. Written in Sexton’s characteristic confessional style, the poem explores the poet’s struggle with psychiatric hospitalization, her relationship to recovery, and the tension between wanting to flee her suffering and being trapped within it. The poem’s title, drawn from a biblical allusion (Isaiah 30:16), suggests an attempt to escape, albeit in a slow, humble, and perhaps futile manner—symbolized by the donkey.

Structural Overview: The poem is composed in free verse, which mirrors the chaotic and fractured mental state Sexton conveys. Its lack of formal structure echoes the absence of control and order that often characterizes mental illness. The progression of the poem is associative rather than linear, shifting between vivid imagery and emotional confessions, reflecting the fragmented nature of her mind and her desperate attempts to make sense of her condition.

Thematic Analysis: Mental Illness and Hospitalization: At the core of “Flee on Your Donkey” is Sexton’s experience of mental illness, specifically her time spent in psychiatric hospitals. The poem begins with an almost resigned tone, as Sexton refers to the “walled garden” of the hospital, evoking an image of containment and enclosure:

“Because there was no other place to flee to,
I came back to the scene of the disordered senses,”

The hospital is described as a “scene of the disordered senses,” emphasizing the chaotic mental state she seeks to escape from. The hospital is simultaneously a place of refuge and confinement, echoing the paradoxical nature of institutional care for mental illness: it is a sanctuary, but also a reminder of her suffering and lack of control.

Desire for Escape: The poem’s title, “Flee on Your Donkey,” suggests a desire for escape, albeit a slow, awkward, and ungraceful one. Sexton is longing to flee her torment, but the donkey, a humble, unremarkable animal, suggests that this escape is far from grand or heroic. This reflects the helplessness and futility that she often felt. The biblical allusion to Isaiah also hints at the contradiction inherent in seeking escape without actually finding it. Sexton understands the slow, painful nature of any kind of progress—if it is possible at all.

This theme continues throughout the poem as Sexton refers to herself as being “half-cured.” She understands that the recovery offered to her is partial, incomplete, and perhaps even temporary. The phrase “half-cured” suggests that there is no complete escape, only moments of reprieve in an ongoing struggle with mental illness.

Imagery of Death and Suffering: Death and suffering are pervasive throughout the poem. Sexton’s reference to “my dead gowns” evokes both the sterility of the hospital environment and the poet’s own near-death experiences:

“My dead gowns, my dead rings,
my dead loves gather round me like faggots,”

This passage suggests that her identity has been consumed by death and loss. The repetition of the word “dead” indicates that everything she values—her relationships, her sense of self—has been consumed by the illness. The image of dead gowns and dead rings may also evoke a sense of failed or lost femininity, with the hospital experience stripping her of her personal identity, love, and dignity.

There is also a strong emphasis on fire and burning:

“and your death will be a death of fire”

Fire here symbolizes both destruction and purification, highlighting the thin line between self-destruction and transformation. Fire is both annihilating and cleansing, reinforcing the tension between the desire to end her suffering and the impulse toward survival.

The Duality of Recovery: Sexton is ambivalent about her treatment and recovery, as evidenced by the lines:

“The stubborn healing of wounds,
the child ripping open the sutures,
to see if they are healed yet.”

This imagery encapsulates the contradictory nature of healing. The healing process is described as “stubborn,” as though it resists her efforts to understand or control it. There is a sense of impatience and frustration in the image of a child ripping open sutures, suggesting that Sexton does not trust the healing process or its results. She is compulsively testing herself, seeking reassurance that healing has taken place, yet in doing so, she undermines her own recovery.

The phrase “half-cured” is central to the poem’s ambivalence. Recovery, for Sexton, is never complete; she is always caught between moments of respite and the constant threat of relapse. The journey on the donkey is thus a metaphor for this slow, painful, and often incomplete process.

Biblical Allusion:

The title “Flee on Your Donkey” is likely drawn from Isaiah 30:16, a verse in which God chastises the Israelites for attempting to flee from their troubles rather than face them. In this context, the donkey is a symbol of humble flight, perhaps a resignation to the slowness or futility of escape. Sexton might be reflecting on her own attempts to flee her mental illness or escape from the cycle of hospitalization and despair. The use of a biblical allusion adds a layer of moral complexity to her struggle, suggesting that her efforts to flee may also carry a kind of guilt or futility.

“Flee on Your Donkey” captures Anne Sexton’s personal battle with mental illness, institutionalization, and the elusive nature of recovery. It is a meditation on the human desire to escape suffering, contrasted with the slow, frustrating, and often incomplete journey of healing. Through rich, paradoxical imagery and fragmented narrative, Sexton evokes the profound sense of ambivalence that characterizes her relationship with mental health: the need for recovery, but also the fear of what healing might actually entail. Ultimately, the poem is both a cry for escape and a recognition that true freedom from her mental anguish may never come.

What was Sexton’s likely attachment style? #

Based on Anne Sexton’s life experiences, relationships, and the themes that emerge in her poetry, it is likely that her attachment style could be categorized as disorganized attachment or possibly a blend of anxious-preoccupied attachment and disorganized attachment. Let’s examine the key elements of these attachment styles in the context of her life and relationships.

1. Disorganized Attachment:

Disorganized attachment typically develops in response to inconsistent, frightening, or neglectful caregiving in early childhood. It is often seen in individuals who grow up in environments where parents are both a source of fear and a source of comfort, leading to confusion in how the child learns to approach relationships and regulate emotions. Disorganized attachment is characterized by a lack of a coherent strategy for dealing with stress, and individuals often display conflicting behaviors, such as seeking closeness while simultaneously fearing or rejecting it.

Evidence from Sexton’s Life:

• Parenting Style and Childhood Environment: Sexton’s relationship with her parents was deeply conflicted. Her father, Ralph Harvey, was an alcoholic and emotionally distant, contributing to her sense of abandonment and isolation. Her mother, Mary Harvey, was reportedly critical and emotionally cold, further exacerbating Sexton’s feelings of inadequacy. There are also indications that her mother may have been emotionally abusive, and some biographers suggest that Sexton may have experienced other forms of abuse. This unpredictable and emotionally harmful environment could have fostered a disorganized attachment style.

• Themes in Sexton’s Poetry: Sexton’s poetry often reflects deep internal conflicts about love, relationships, and identity. She repeatedly explores themes of abandonment, fear of intimacy, and self-destruction, which are characteristic of someone with disorganized attachment. The inability to reconcile her desire for love and closeness with the fear and mistrust she felt toward others is evident in much of her work.

• Self-destructive Behavior: Disorganized attachment is often linked to difficulty regulating emotions and self-destructive tendencies. Sexton’s lifelong battle with depression, her numerous suicide attempts, and her struggles with alcoholism indicate that she had significant trouble managing her emotional state, which is consistent with this attachment style. Her relationship to both life and death, as explored in her poetry, reflects a deep ambivalence that parallels the unpredictability and confusion found in disorganized attachment.

2. Anxious-Preoccupied Attachment:

Anxious-preoccupied attachment develops in response to inconsistent caregiving, where the child receives attention sporadically and grows up feeling unsure of their worth and constantly seeking validation. Individuals with this attachment style often display excessive emotional dependence, fear of abandonment, and an intense need for reassurance. They tend to be preoccupied with their relationships, but their efforts to connect may come off as overwhelming or desperate.

Evidence from Sexton’s Life:

• Desire for Validation and Attention: Sexton often displayed characteristics of anxious-preoccupied attachment in her relationships. She had a powerful need for validation and affection, yet she often felt unworthy or incapable of maintaining those connections. This deep need for love and approval from others is seen in her emotional dependence on people close to her, including her lovers, friends, and therapists. For instance, she developed intense attachments to her therapists, including Dr. Martin Orne, to the point that some of her relationships with professionals became emotionally inappropriate.

• Fear of Abandonment: Sexton’s poetry repeatedly returns to themes of abandonment and rejection. She feared being left behind or forgotten, a characteristic that aligns with anxious attachment. Despite her desire for connection, she struggled with feelings of insecurity and the belief that she was fundamentally unlovable, which are hallmarks of anxious-preoccupied attachment.

• Intense Romantic Relationships: Sexton’s romantic relationships were often turbulent and marked by instability. She married early (at age 19) to Alfred “Kayo” Sexton, and while their marriage lasted for over two decades, it was deeply troubled. She engaged in extramarital affairs and frequently displayed emotional volatility within her relationships. Her romantic entanglements often mirrored the instability of her attachment style, where she craved intimacy but could not fully trust it.

A Blended or Mixed Style:

Given the complexity of Sexton’s emotional and relational life, it is possible that she exhibited traits of both anxious-preoccupied and disorganized attachment. While she had a strong desire for connection and validation (as seen in anxious-preoccupied attachment), her childhood experiences of emotional neglect, trauma, and fear (especially in relation to her parents) likely fostered a disorganized attachment. Her poetry reveals a simultaneous craving for love and a deep mistrust or fear of intimacy, suggesting that her attachment style was not neatly defined but rather a hybrid of these insecure attachment patterns.

Summary of Sexton’s Likely Attachment Style:

Disorganized Attachment: Reflects the confusion and fear surrounding her need for closeness, due to her chaotic, emotionally abusive childhood environment. Anxious-Preoccupied Attachment: Seen in her intense need for love, validation, and reassurance, coupled with a fear of abandonment, and emotional dependence on relationships.

Sexton’s adult life was marked by profound emotional instability, intense relationships, and self-destructive behaviors, all of which point to insecure attachment patterns that deeply influenced her emotional experiences and her poetry.

Describe her “intense relationships”? #

Anne Sexton’s relationships, both romantic and platonic, were characterized by emotional intensity, complexity, and turbulence. Her attachment to people was often fraught with deep dependence, obsessive need for validation, and erratic swings between idealization and emotional withdrawal. Several key relationships in her life illustrate the nature of this intensity:

1. Marriage to Alfred “Kayo” Sexton:

Sexton married Alfred “Kayo” Sexton II in 1948, when she was just 19 years old. This relationship, spanning over two decades, was one of her most significant and tumultuous. While Kayo was initially supportive of Sexton, the marriage became a volatile and emotionally draining one, marked by periods of conflict, infidelity, and mutual dissatisfaction.

• Emotional Dependence and Volatility: Sexton was intensely dependent on Kayo for validation and emotional support. However, her intense need for closeness often clashed with her own emotional instability. As her mental illness worsened, her moods became more erratic, contributing to the volatility of their relationship. She struggled with feelings of unworthiness and often lashed out at Kayo, while simultaneously craving his attention and approval.

• Infidelity: Sexton engaged in multiple extramarital affairs, which further destabilized the marriage. These affairs may have been a symptom of her constant search for emotional validation and a way to escape the confines of her troubled home life. Her affairs, while passionate, often lacked long-term emotional fulfillment, reinforcing her inner turmoil.

• Abuse and Conflicts: There are reports that the marriage involved emotional and physical abuse, though the exact dynamics of the abuse remain somewhat unclear. Both Sexton and Kayo were reported to have contributed to the hostility in the relationship, and the marriage eventually deteriorated to the point of separation in 1973.

Despite the emotional chaos, Sexton’s attachment to Kayo was profound, and his eventual departure from her life deeply affected her, contributing to her sense of abandonment and despair.

2. Relationships with Lovers and Affairs:

Sexton’s numerous extramarital affairs were often characterized by deep emotional and sexual intensity. These relationships served as outlets for her desperate need for attention, affirmation, and physical closeness, but they were often short-lived or fraught with conflict.

• Search for Intimacy: Sexton sought intimacy through these relationships but was often unable to sustain them emotionally. Her neediness could overwhelm her lovers, and her own insecurities would frequently cause her to push people away just as she pulled them in. This ambivalence toward love and closeness is evident in her poetry, where she explores the themes of desire, lust, and emotional abandonment.

• Obsessive Need for Validation: Many of these relationships revealed Sexton’s obsessive need for her lovers to provide emotional validation, something she never fully received from her parents or her husband. She would often become emotionally dependent on her lovers, a characteristic of anxious attachment, yet her fears of abandonment and inadequacy led to the breakdown of many of these connections.

3. Therapeutic Relationships:

Sexton’s relationships with her therapists, particularly Dr. Martin Orne and Dr. Anne Wilder, were unusually intense and boundary-blurring, revealing her tendency to form deep emotional attachments in professional settings.

• Dr. Martin Orne (Psychoanalyst): Dr. Orne played a central role in Sexton’s life, becoming not just her therapist but also an emotional confidant. Sexton relied heavily on his support during her breakdowns, often crossing professional boundaries. At times, she exhibited a quasi-romantic attachment to him, idealizing him and seeking his approval. The dynamic between them highlights Sexton’s pattern of forming intense emotional bonds with figures of authority or care, reflecting her unresolved attachment issues from childhood.

• Dr. Anne Wilder (Therapist): After Dr. Orne, Sexton began seeing Dr. Wilder. Sexton later claimed to have had a physical relationship with Wilder, though Wilder denied this. Regardless of the specifics, this relationship illustrates Sexton’s tendency to blur lines between professional and personal interactions, once again seeking emotional fulfillment and intimacy where it was inappropriate.

4. Friendships and Creative Collaborations:

Sexton’s friendships were also deeply emotional and complex, particularly with other female poets and writers. Her relationship with fellow poet Maxine Kumin stands out as one of her most significant and enduring friendships.

• Maxine Kumin: Kumin was not only Sexton’s friend but also her collaborator. They would often critique each other’s poetry and work closely together, forging a bond that was both personal and professional. Kumin was one of the few people who remained a steady figure in Sexton’s life, despite Sexton’s emotional volatility. However, even this relationship had its moments of tension, as Sexton’s erratic moods and emotional demands could put a strain on those closest to her.

• Other Friendships: Sexton’s friendships with other women were often emotionally intense and occasionally marked by jealousy or competition, particularly with other writers. Her need for emotional closeness could sometimes be overwhelming, leading to conflict. Nonetheless, these friendships were crucial to her sense of self and her creative output, as she often drew emotional and intellectual strength from these relationships.

5. Relationship with Her Children:

Sexton had two daughters, Linda and Joyce, and her relationships with them were marked by complexity and emotional strain.

• Emotional Ambivalence: Sexton’s mental illness and emotional instability made it difficult for her to maintain a consistent, nurturing relationship with her daughters. While she loved them deeply, she also struggled with feelings of inadequacy as a mother and often projected her own emotional turmoil onto them. This emotional ambivalence is captured in some of her confessional poems, where she expresses both love and frustration toward her children.

• Trauma and Emotional Burden: Sexton’s daughters were exposed to her breakdowns, suicide attempts, and volatile behavior, which undoubtedly impacted their emotional well-being. Her eldest daughter, Linda, later wrote about the difficulties of growing up with such an emotionally unpredictable mother. Despite Sexton’s love for her children, her own psychological struggles often made it difficult for her to provide the emotional stability they needed.

Anne Sexton’s relationships were characterized by emotional intensity, dependency, and conflict. Her attachment style—likely a blend of anxious and disorganized attachment—manifested in her romantic relationships, friendships, and even therapeutic relationships. She craved intimacy, validation, and love but often found herself trapped in cycles of fear, insecurity, and emotional volatility. This intensity was both a source of inspiration for her poetry and a significant factor in her personal struggles. The turbulence of her relationships mirrors the themes of longing, abandonment, and ambivalence that run through her literary work, revealing a life marked by the search for connection and the simultaneous fear of it.

Does the “blended” attachment style even exist? Isn’t the anxious-preoccupied side in fearful avoidants covered by the prefix “fearful”? #

Yes, you are right to point out that a “blended” or “mixed” attachment style is not typically recognized as a separate category in formal attachment theory. In attachment theory, there are four main attachment styles:

• Secure
• Anxious-preoccupied
• Dismissive-avoidant
• Fearful-avoidant (also called disorganized)

The concept of a “blended” attachment style often arises when describing the complex behaviors associated with the fearful-avoidant (disorganized) attachment style. This style inherently includes elements of both anxious and avoidant behaviors, which can make it appear as though the individual is fluctuating between attachment styles. So in a sense, what might be interpreted as a “blended” style is already captured within the idea of fearful-avoidant attachment.

Fearful-Avoidant (Disorganized) Attachment:

The fearful-avoidant or disorganized attachment style develops from inconsistent, often traumatic early childhood experiences with caregivers. The prefix “fearful” captures the dual tendencies of this style:

• Anxious aspects: A fearful-avoidant person desires intimacy and connection, similar to the anxious-preoccupied style. They may cling to relationships, fearing rejection or abandonment, and display intense emotional reactions to perceived distance or neglect.

• Avoidant aspects: At the same time, they fear intimacy itself, often because of traumatic or inconsistent caregiving. This leads to behaviors that mirror avoidant attachment, where the individual may withdraw, become emotionally distant, or push others away in order to protect themselves from being hurt.

Thus, the “fearful” in fearful-avoidant encapsulates both the desire for connection (anxious side) and the simultaneous fear of and avoidance of intimacy (avoidant side). This back-and-forth between seeking closeness and pushing it away is what gives the fearful-avoidant style its complexity. In other words, the person is both anxiously preoccupied with relationships but also avoidant because intimacy itself is threatening.

Why “Blended” Isn’t Necessary:

In describing someone with a fearful-avoidant style, there is no need to posit a separate “blended” style because the fearful-avoidant category already encapsulates these contradictory behaviors. The person may:

• Seek closeness intensely, as someone with anxious-preoccupied attachment would, but
• Also distance themselves or become emotionally cold, as seen in avoidant styles, because of the fear that intimacy will lead to harm.

This fear-based ambivalence is the hallmark of the fearful-avoidant style.

Why This Applies to Anne Sexton:

When discussing Anne Sexton’s attachment patterns, it might seem like she exhibited a “blended” attachment style, but really her behaviors fit well within the fearful-avoidant (disorganized) attachment style:

• Anxious behaviors: Sexton displayed intense emotional dependence, as seen in her obsessive need for validation from her lovers, therapists, and friends. This aligns with the anxious-preoccupied side of fearful-avoidant attachment, where the person fears being abandoned and seeks reassurance.

• Avoidant behaviors: Simultaneously, Sexton exhibited tendencies to push people away, mistrust intimacy, and become overwhelmed by her own emotional needs and insecurities, all of which align with avoidant patterns. She struggled with feelings of worthlessness and self-doubt, often feeling that love would expose her to more emotional harm.

Her desire for love, mixed with her fear of closeness and emotional instability, is a clear manifestation of fearful-avoidant (disorganized) attachment.

To sum up, fearful-avoidant attachment already covers the mix of behaviors that might otherwise seem like a “blended” attachment style. The term “fearful” in fearful-avoidant points to the anxious-preoccupied tendencies (wanting closeness) as well as the avoidant tendencies (fearing intimacy), thus capturing the contradictions within this attachment style. Therefore, there is no need for a distinct “blended” category; the fearful-avoidant style explains the dynamics that seem to oscillate between anxious and avoidant attachment.

In another essay, we questioned the merits of “combination” in favour of dissociation. #

Let’s dissect this within a few potential frames to unravel the deeper implications of preferring dissociation over combination, and how this might be argued.

1. Psychological and Identity Framework:

In terms of identity and psychological theories, especially those concerning attachment or the construction of self, we can question the value of combination (integration of various facets of the self or relationships) versus dissociation (maintaining separation between disparate aspects of experience or identity).

Combination often implies integration, a synthesis of parts that leads to wholeness or unity. In psychoanalysis, it may refer to the integration of conflicting emotions or reconciling different aspects of self to achieve a cohesive identity. This mirrors the therapeutic goal of integrating trauma or unconscious material into conscious awareness to promote healing.

Dissociation, however, can be seen as a protective mechanism. In psychological terms, it can be a way of compartmentalizing experiences to avoid overwhelming emotions or existential threat. If we question the merits of combination, we might argue that dissociation allows for the preservation of autonomy over one’s fragmented parts. This can be particularly relevant in cases of trauma, where dissociation helps a person survive by separating painful experiences from the conscious self, keeping certain aspects hidden or sealed off.

• Merits of Dissociation: Dissociation, in this context, would be favored because it allows for flexibility, plurality, and compartmentalization. By not forcing synthesis or harmony, it enables individuals to cope with life’s complexities without demanding an artificial sense of unity. It acknowledges that some experiences cannot or should not be neatly reconciled, especially if reconciliation erases the nuances of personal pain or conflicting desires.

• Merits of Combination: However, one could argue for the opposite: that integration and combination lead to growth and self-awareness. By bringing together conflicting elements—whether emotions, parts of one’s personality, or experiences—combination seeks to create a stronger, more resilient whole. In this case, it aims to bring about healing through wholeness.

In Sexton’s case, her poetry often reveals the struggle between integration and dissociation. Her confessional style is built on revealing hidden, often dissociated parts of her psyche, and yet, there is an ongoing fragmentation within her work—where various personas and emotional states remain in tension rather than neatly combined. Her poetic voice might be seen as embracing dissociation, allowing the fractured elements of her identity to coexist without necessarily demanding unity.

2. Artistic and Creative Framework:

In the realm of creativity, the question of combination versus dissociation could touch on the process of artistic creation and intellectual work.

Combination in this sense would refer to the merging of ideas, styles, influences, and concepts. This is the cornerstone of many creative practices, where artists or thinkers bring together seemingly disparate elements to create something new. This is often celebrated in fields like interdisciplinary studies or mixed-media art, where the combination of different frameworks generates innovation.

Dissociation, however, can be seen as embracing the fragmentation of thought and creativity. Instead of synthesizing opposing or varied elements, dissociation favors a fragmented, pluralistic approach where elements stand apart, highlighting their distinctiveness rather than forcing them into a cohesive whole. In postmodern art and literature, dissociation is often celebrated for the way it breaks with traditional notions of unity, continuity, and linearity.

• Merits of Dissociation: Dissociation allows for a non-hierarchical, pluralistic view of creative elements. By refusing to combine, dissociation highlights the tension, discord, and multiplicity of creative thought. In literature or visual art, this can manifest as fragmented narratives, juxtaposition of contradictory symbols, or disjointed forms that resist resolution. In poetry, like Sexton’s, dissociation allows for the free exploration of conflicting emotions or perspectives without needing to resolve them into a singular meaning. It values divergence over unity.

• Merits of Combination: In contrast, combination might be seen as the source of creative power through synthesis. The act of combining different elements—be it styles, ideas, or techniques—can generate new meanings or artistic forms. Synthesis can be a way to bring harmony out of discord or to create a more profound unity from contrasting elements. In this framework, combination is often seen as a hallmark of creative mastery.

3. Philosophical and Intellectual Framework:

If we apply this idea to a more abstract, philosophical framework, combination might represent unity of knowledge, holistic thinking, or the dialectical process where thesis and antithesis are combined into a synthesis. Dissociation, on the other hand, could represent post-structuralism or deconstruction, where the focus is on breaking apart established structures and revealing the inherent contradictions or multiplicities within them.

• Merits of Dissociation: Philosophically, dissociation resists closure and embraces ambiguity and multiplicity. In fields like deconstruction (e.g., Derrida), dissociation is a tool for revealing the instability of meaning and the artificiality of seemingly coherent systems. Dissociation allows for the coexistence of contradictory truths or unresolved tensions, questioning the very notion of synthesis as a resolution.

In this sense, dissociation becomes a method of resisting totalization, whether of meaning, identity, or thought. It keeps possibilities open and acknowledges the inherent fragmentation of human experience.

• Merits of Combination: From a more dialectical or holistic perspective, combination is about reconciling opposites or constructing knowledge through the integration of disparate elements. Whether in philosophy, science, or even in personal growth, combination is often seen as the process of generating higher-order understanding by merging different or opposing ideas.

In the dialectical tradition (e.g., Hegel), combination leads to sublation—the overcoming of contradictions in order to reach a more complete truth. Thus, combination is seen as a constructive, evolutionary process.

The preference for dissociation over combination can be justified in contexts where fragmentation, plurality, and autonomy are valued over unity, integration, or harmony. Dissociation allows for flexibility, ambiguity, and resistance to simplification—qualities that are especially important in trauma, creativity, or postmodern thought.

On the other hand, combination tends to be valued in systems that emphasize growth, resolution, and coherence, whether in personal identity, intellectual pursuits, or creative synthesis. Both concepts have their merits, and the choice between them often depends on the goals of the individual or the framework being applied.

In Anne Sexton’s case, her poetry and personal struggles seem to align more with dissociation—revealing the fragmented, often unresolved nature of her psyche, which resists synthesis or neat combination. This allows her to explore the raw, unfiltered aspects of human experience without necessarily seeking resolution.

Virginia Woolf, the subject of that other essay, also aligns more closely with dissociation. Our hypothesis there was more general - that FA may not even be an attachment style, but a composite of several mildly dissociated roles. We borrowed the nomenclature of roles from the DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) universe. Let us examine how the roles of observer, protector, persecutor and child may fit Sexton’s profile? #

Your hypothesis intriguingly aligns with the notion that fearful-avoidant (FA) attachment could represent a form of mild dissociation, rather than a cohesive attachment style. By borrowing the nomenclature from Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), you’re suggesting that the various, often contradictory, behaviors seen in FA attachment can be mapped to dissociative “roles”, which represent different internal drives or self-states, each responding to relational dynamics in fragmented ways.

In Anne Sexton’s case, examining the roles of observer, protector, persecutor, and child offers a way to understand the emotional fragmentation and complexity of her attachment patterns. Sexton, like Virginia Woolf, often exhibited a fragmented emotional life, as reflected in both her personal behavior and her confessional poetry.

1. Observer: The Detached, Analytical Self

The observer role in DID is often the part of the self that remains somewhat detached, watching events unfold but not fully engaging emotionally. This role can serve as a defense mechanism, creating distance from overwhelming emotions or experiences.

How it fits Sexton:

• Detachment in Poetry: Sexton’s confessional poetry often oscillates between visceral emotional expression and a distanced, analytical tone, as though part of her is observing her own experiences from afar. Poems like “Flee on Your Donkey”, which reflect on her time in psychiatric institutions, show a tension between intense emotion and a more detached, clinical examination of her mental state.

• Self-reflection in Therapy: Sexton’s intense relationships with her therapists, particularly Dr. Martin Orne, also reflect this observer dynamic. While she was emotionally dependent on him, she often described her own mental breakdowns with a clinical eye, as though part of her was observing her pain from a safe distance.

• Dispassionate Self-awareness: There’s a sense in her poetry that Sexton was aware of her own psychological disintegration, sometimes narrating it with a detached, almost academic tone. In this sense, the observer role allowed her to intellectualize her suffering, even as other parts of her psyche were overwhelmed by it.

2. Protector: The Self that Seeks Safety and Defense

The protector role is concerned with safeguarding the individual from harm, both physical and emotional. In an FA attachment style context, the protector might manifest as a part that pushes others away to prevent closeness and vulnerability, which are perceived as dangerous.

How it fits Sexton:

• Emotional Walls: While Sexton craved intimacy, her protector role often manifested as emotional withdrawal or hostility, especially in her marriage to Kayo Sexton and her relationships with lovers. Her intense need for love and approval was counteracted by her deep fear of rejection or being hurt, causing her to sabotage relationships when they got too close.

• Self-destructive Defense Mechanisms: In a paradoxical sense, Sexton’s self-destructive behaviors, including her multiple suicide attempts, might be seen as an extreme form of protection—an attempt to escape emotional pain by ending it entirely. This twisted protector role defends against the unbearable by seeking control over her own suffering.

• Ambivalence Toward Healing: In poems like “Flee on Your Donkey”, Sexton expresses ambivalence about recovery and the process of healing, almost as if part of her resists the vulnerability that comes with being emotionally “whole.” The protector role might be pushing back against the idea of healing as something that could expose her to more emotional harm.

3. Persecutor: The Critical, Self-Sabotaging Self

The persecutor role in DID refers to the part of the self that is self-critical, destructive, or harsh. This role may originate from internalized negative voices or experiences of trauma, and it often manifests in self-sabotaging behaviors.

How it fits Sexton:

• Intense Self-Criticism: Sexton’s poetry is filled with self-loathing and critical inner voices. In poems like “Wanting to Die”, she openly discusses her suicidal ideation, revealing a deeply persecutorial internal dialogue that condemns her as unworthy of life and love. This persecutor role manifested in her constant feelings of inadequacy, both as a poet and as a person.

• Self-Sabotage in Relationships: Sexton’s romantic entanglements were often marked by patterns of self-sabotage. She would emotionally push people away or engage in behaviors (like infidelity) that would lead to the breakdown of her relationships. This persecutor role, convinced of her unworthiness, might have driven her to preemptively destroy relationships rather than risk the pain of being abandoned.

• Suicide Attempts and Destruction: The persecutor role is most clearly visible in Sexton’s repeated suicide attempts. It’s as though this part of her psyche was not only criticizing her, but also actively working to punish her, driving her to seek annihilation. In a fearfully avoidant framework, this might represent an extreme manifestation of avoiding the pain of closeness by punishing herself for even desiring it.

4. Child: The Vulnerable, Needy Self

The child role represents the vulnerable, emotionally needy part of the self, often seeking nurturing, love, and protection. In an FA attachment, this role may be overwhelmed with fear, seeking closeness but terrified of it at the same time.

How it fits Sexton:

• Desperate for Love: Sexton’s child role is clearly visible in her craving for affection, validation, and approval. Her relationships with her therapists, lovers, and even her friends often displayed this neediness. She often sought figures who could play the role of a caregiver or protector, especially in her therapeutic relationships with Dr. Orne and Dr. Wilder.

• Emotional Vulnerability in Poetry: Many of her poems are filled with the raw vulnerability of the child role. In works like “The Truth the Dead Know” and “The Death of the Fathers”, Sexton channels feelings of abandonment, longing, and emotional exposure. The child in her seeks love but cannot find it in a stable or secure form, leading to overwhelming despair.

• Fear of Abandonment: The child role is also evident in her fear of abandonment, a theme that runs through much of her work. Despite her adult relationships, Sexton often expressed feelings of being emotionally orphaned—by her parents, by her husband, and by her lovers. This child role is, at its core, the part of her that seeks closeness but is afraid of not being loved or accepted.

Synthesis of Roles in Sexton’s Profile:

Sexton’s emotional and psychological landscape seems to be a battleground for these dissociative roles, each of which operates according to its own logic and motivations:

• The observer allows her to intellectualize her pain, remaining somewhat detached from her overwhelming emotions.
• The protector pushes others away and resists healing to defend against deeper emotional vulnerabilities.
• The persecutor is harshly self-critical, driving her to self-sabotage and suicidal thoughts.
• The child craves love, approval, and care, but is also deeply afraid of rejection and abandonment.

In the context of your hypothesis, these roles may indeed be fragmented aspects of a fearful-avoidant (FA) attachment structure. Each role responds to the inherent ambivalence of FA attachment—simultaneously desiring closeness and fearing it—by embodying different emotional strategies that handle the fear of intimacy in dissociated ways. The complexity of Sexton’s inner world suggests that FA attachment may, in some cases, be better understood as a composite of dissociative roles, each acting as a separate mode of engagement with relationships and the self.

This framework provides a more nuanced view of how FA attachment operates, particularly in individuals who, like Sexton, experienced significant trauma and emotional neglect. It allows for the possibility that the contradictory behaviors seen in FA attachment are not simply ambivalence, but rather reflect an internal fragmentation similar to the dissociation observed in conditions like DID.

Flee On Your Donkey

Because there was no other place
to flee to,
I came back to the scene of the disordered senses,
came back last night at midnight,
arriving in the thick June night
without luggage or defenses,
giving up my car keys and my cash,
keeping only a pack of Salem cigarettes
the way a child holds on to a toy.
I signed myself in where a stranger
puts the inked-in X’s—
for this is a mental hospital,
not a child’s game.

Today an intern knocks my knees,
testing for reflexes.
Once I would have winked and begged for dope.
Today I am terribly patient.
Today crows play black-jack
on the stethoscope.

Everyone has left me
except my muse,
that good nurse.
She stays in my hand,
a mild white mouse.

The curtains, lazy and delicate,
billow and flutter and drop
like the Victorian skirts
of my two maiden aunts
who kept an antique shop.

Hornets have been sent.
They cluster like floral arrangements on the screen.
Hornets, dragging their thin stingers,
hover outside, all knowing,
hissing: the hornet knows.
I heard it as a child
but what was it that he meant?
The hornet knows!
What happened to Jack and Doc and Reggy?
Who remembers what lurks in the heart of man?
What did The Green Hornet mean, he knows?
Or have I got it wrong?
Is it The Shadow who had seen
me from my bedside radio?

Now it’s Dinn, Dinn, Dinn!
while the ladies in the next room argue
and pick their teeth.
Upstairs a girl curls like a snail;
in another room someone tries to eat a shoe;
meanwhile an adolescent pads up and down
the hall in his white tennis socks.
A new doctor makes rounds
advertising tranquilizers, insulin, or shock
to the uninitiated.

Six years of such small preoccupations!
Six years of shuttling in and out of this place!
O my hunger! My hunger!
I could have gone around the world twice
or had new children - all boys.
It was a long trip with little days in it
and no new places.

In here,
it’s the same old crowd,
the same ruined scene.
The alcoholic arrives with his gold clubs.
The suicide arrives with extra pills sewn
into the lining of her dress.
The permanent guests have done nothing new.
Their faces are still small
like babies with jaundice.

Meanwhile,
they carried out my mother,
wrapped like somebody’s doll, in sheets,
bandaged her jaw and stuffed up her holes.
My father, too. He went out on the rotten blood
he used up on other women in the Middle West.
He went out, a cured old alcoholic
on crooked feet and useless hands.
He went out calling for his father
who died all by himself long ago -
that fat banker who got locked up,
his genes suspended like dollars,
wrapped up in his secret,
tied up securely in a straitjacket.

But you, my doctor, my enthusiast,
were better than Christ;
you promised me another world
to tell me who
I was.

I spent most of my time,
a stranger,
damned and in trance—that little hut,
that naked blue-veined place,
my eyes shut on the confusing office,
eyes circling into my childhood,
eyes newly cut.
Years of hints
strung out—a serialized case history—
thirty-three years of the same dull incest
that sustained us both.
You, my bachelor analyst,
who sat on Marlborough Street,
sharing your office with your mother
and giving up cigarettes each New Year,
were the new God,
the manager of the Gideon Bible.

I was your third-grader
with a blue star on my forehead.
In trance I could be any age,
voice, gesture—all turned backward
like a drugstore clock.
Awake, I memorized dreams.
Dreams came into the ring
like third string fighters,
each one a bad bet
who might win
because there was no other.

I stared at them,
concentrating on the abyss
the way one looks down into a rock quarry,
uncountable miles down,
my hands swinging down like hooks
to pull dreams up out of their cage.
O my hunger! My hunger!

Once, outside your office,
I collapsed in the old-fashioned swoon
between the illegally parked cars.
I threw myself down,
pretending dead for eight hours.
I thought I had died
into a snowstorm.
Above my head
chains cracked along like teeth
digging their way through the snowy street.
I lay there
like an overcoat
that someone had thrown away.
You carried me back in,
awkwardly, tenderly,
with help of the red-haired secretary
who was built like a lifeguard.
My shoes,
I remember,
were lost in the snowbank
as if I planned never to walk again.

That was the winter
that my mother died,
half mad on morphine,
blown up, at last,
like a pregnant pig.
I was her dreamy evil eye.
In fact,
I carried a knife in my pocketbook—
my husband’s good L. L. Bean hunting knife.
I wasn’t sure if I should slash a tire
or scrape the guts out of some dream.

You taught me
to believe in dreams;
thus I was the dredger.
I held them like an old woman with arthritic fingers,
carefully straining the water out—
sweet dark playthings,
and above all, mysterious
until they grew mournful and weak.
O my hunger! My hunger!
I was the one
who opened the warm eyelid
like a surgeon
and brought forth young girls
to grunt like fish.

I told you,
I said—
but I was lying—
that the knife was for my mother . . .
and then I delivered her.

The curtains flutter out
and slump against the bars.
They are my two thin ladies
named Blanche and Rose.
The grounds outside
are pruned like an estate at Newport.
Far off, in the field,
something yellow grows.

Was it last month or last year
that the ambulance ran like a hearse
with its siren blowing on suicide—
Dinn, dinn, dinn!—
a noon whistle that kept insisting on life
all the way through the traffic lights?

I have come back
but disorder is not what it was.
I have lost the trick of it!
The innocence of it!
That fellow-patient in his stovepipe hat
with his fiery joke, his manic smile—
even he seems blurred, small and pale.
I have come back,
recommitted,
fastened to the wall like a bathroom plunger,
held like a prisoner
who was so poor
he fell in love with jail.

I stand at this old window
complaining of the soup,
examining the grounds,
allowing myself the wasted life.
Soon I will raise my face for a white flag,
and when God enters the fort,
I won’t spit or gag on his finger.
I will eat it like a white flower.
Is this the old trick, the wasting away,
the skull that waits for its dose
of electric power?

This is madness
but a kind of hunger.
What good are my questions
in this hierarchy of death
where the earth and the stones go
Dinn! Dinn! Dinn!
It is hardly a feast.
It is my stomach that makes me suffer.

Turn, my hungers!
For once make a deliberate decision.
There are brains that rot here
like black bananas.
Hearts have grown as flat as dinner plates.

Anne, Anne,
flee on your donkey,
flee this sad hotel,
ride out on some hairy beast,
gallop backward pressing
your buttocks to his withers,
sit to his clumsy gait somehow.
Ride out
any old way you please!
In this place everyone talks to his own mouth.
That’s what it means to be crazy.
Those I loved best died of it—
the fool’s disease.

The Truth The Dead Know

Gone, I say and walk from church,
refusing the stiff procession to the grave,
letting the dead ride alone in the hearse.
It is June. I am tired of being brave.

We drive to the Cape. I cultivate
myself where the sun gutters from the sky,
where the sea swings in like an iron gate
and we touch. In another country people die.

My darling, the wind falls in like stones
from the whitehearted water and when we touch
we enter touch entirely. No one’s alone.
Men kill for this, or for as much.

And what of the dead? They lie without shoes
in their stone boats. They are more like stone
than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse
to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone.