My Life as a Fig Tree

 

        Plath’s fig tree in The Bell Jar, isn’t just a metaphor; it’s basically the reality of our quarter-life crisis. Esther sees a tree full of figs, each one a possible life path, but she’s stuck, terrified that choosing one will mean losing all the others. Honestly? Same. Whether it’s choosing love, career, or which city to live in, the fear hits like a truck. You want everything, and you want to do everything perfectly, but that perfectionism slowly strangles your ability to move.

        Let’s talk love; because that fig is always shining like it’s covered in aesthetic Pinterest lighting. Sometimes we stand in front of the love-fig thinking, “Should I pick it? What if it rots in my hand? What if there’s a better fig on another branch?” And then boom, heartbreak happens. Not the cute breakup-playlist kind, the type that makes you rethink your entire emotional existence. You start wondering if you’re bad at choosing, or if you should’ve just stayed fig-less. Esther would totally get it.

        Friendships are wild. One year someone is your soulmate-in-human-form, the next year they’re a number in your phone you don’t call anymore. And the fig tree gets messy here. You think you can hold onto all your friendships, but life shifts. People grow, people swap branches, and you’re left wondering if you should’ve climbed the tree differently. But also, the rare figs, the ones that stay even when life is upside down, those are treasures.

        Esther freaks out because she feels like she has to pick the “perfect” future, and wow… another relatable crisis. One day you’re confidently planning a PhD, the next day you’re staring at your laptop wondering if you should abandon everything and become an influencer. Career confusion is basically a rite of passage now. You want stability, passion, money, and meaning, all together and suddenly, your fig tree looks like a Choose Your Own Adventure that you never signed up for.

        Family figs are complicated. You don’t get to choose them, and yet they shape the entire tree you’re climbing. Expectations, responsibilities, emotional weight, all of it sits on your shoulders while you’re trying to pick your own figs. Sometimes that support saves you; sometimes it suffocates you. And then there are the moments of guilt when you feel like you’re not picking the “right” life according to family standards. Esther’s paralysis? Very much a shared feeling.

        Here’s the twist: Plath shows us what happens when we freeze in fear, the figs shrivel. But your life isn’t a tragic novel. You don’t need to pick one perfect fig. You can try, fail, choose again, or even climb another tree entirely. Your love life will heal, friendships will evolve, careers will shift, confusion will come and go, and family will find their way into your choices one way or another. But through all that, there’s one fig that doesn’t disappear, you. And as long as you keep moving, experimenting, and living, you’ll never starve.

        So yeah, the fig tree isn’t just Plath’s metaphor, it’s all of ours. And we’re all out here trying to pick something without dropping everything else.