Distraction is King

In The Handmaid’s Tale, Offred often experiences bouts of nostalgia, where she will go deep into her own mind. She thinks about the good and the bad times—though I think she recounts more good than bad—from the before times. She recounts stories from childhood with her mother, from a secret relationship with Luke, from a public relationship with Luke, and from being a mother. Margaret Atwood, the author of the Handmaid’s Tale, will often start these stories abruptly. Atwood will write about Offred and her companion, Ofglen walking to the market, and then Offred will recount a memory, somewhat randomly. Atwood writes, “Ofglen and I walk slowly today; we are hot in our long dresses, wet under the arms, tired… There used to be an ice cream store, somewhere in this block. I can’t remember the name… We would go there, when [my daughter] was little, and I’d hold her up so she could see through the glass side of the counter, where the vats of ice cream were on display, colored so delicately, pale orange, pale green, pale pink, and I’d read the names to her so she could choose. She wouldn’t choose by the name, though, but by the color. Her dresses and overalls were those colors too. Ice cream pastels” (164-165). This story, about an ice cream shop that no longer exists, and a daughter that, to Offred, no longer exists, comes to her after seeing a reminder of a previous time. This is interesting to me because instead of seeing something and moving on, she stays with the memory for as long as she can. Offred’s train of thought is powerful because she will give into it more than other people might. I also have this experience, because a lot of times I will distract myself with the first thing that comes to mind. When I was younger, this manifested itself in playing pretend games in my head, and now it manifests itself as getting distracted easily while doing work, and having a hard time getting back on task. I think I do this because my brain naturally turns away from the things it finds unfulfilling. For example, when I am doing math homework or chores, I’m not thinking about math or the trash, I’m thinking about summer camp or the last dentist appointment I had. These distractions reward my efforts. For all the grinding I’m doing with calculus or emptying the dishwasher, I at least can remember swimming with my friends and how clean my teeth felt. For Offred, I think this is similar. Gilead is such a cruel world, and Offred does not enjoy it. She distracts herself with memories of her past, which she enjoyed significantly more, even though she might not always recognize it. Atwood writes, “There seemed no end to [Luke]. We would lie in those afternoon beds, afterwards, hands on each other, talking it over. Possible, impossible. What could be done? We thought we had such problems. How were we to know we were happy?” (51). Offred recognizes that she was happier in a past life, where she wasn’t forced to give birth to babies that weren’t hers and perform rituals she probably would’ve called crazy as a teenager. Even though she knows that she can’t get back to her happier past life by thinking about it, she still does. Even though I know that I can’t stop doing my homework because I’m daydreaming about the summer time, I still do. We do these things as a form of escapism. We don’t like the current situation we’re in—although mine is quite a bit less dire than hers is—so we make up a new one from our heads that we’ve experienced before. Offred’s thoughts often end up straying to four characters: Her daughter, her mother, Luke, and Moira. These characters keep coming up both logistically (where has Luke ended up?) and emotionally (I hope my daughter is alive). These characters in her life are Offred’s chosen form of escapism because she loves and cares about them. It’s a lot easier for her mind to first wander to topics she thinks might cheer her up, when in the end, they might do more harm than good. This is because she spirals when she thinks about them, like when she imagined Luke dead or locked away somewhere. I also tend to spiral, and mine also tends to be about the stress of living and the wellbeing of loved ones. Offred and I both ‘escape’ to places in our minds, but it doesn’t necessarily make us feel better.