Hellen Keller

Self-awareness and The Wicker Butterflies

I am trapped in dimly lit room with pink walls inside wooden cage with no possible escape. A faint fluttering sound breaks the silence. Above me are four colossal brown menacing butterflies swooping off the wall. They circle my cage, wings flapping furiously against the wooden bars as they stare at me with black beady eyes. My hearts fills with fear as I scream for help. My mother runs in the doorway and the butterflies quickly fly back to the wall and remain stationary. While in my mother's arms, the world returns to normal. This is not a scene from a B science fiction movie, but a memory of my early childhood and the first possible moment of self-awareness.

Technically speaking, "the most important aspect of a child's emotional development is a growing awareness of his/her own emotional state and the ability to recognize and interpret the emotions of others. The last half of the second year is a time when a child starts to become aware of his/her own emotional states, characteristics, abilities, and potential for action. This phenomenon is called self-awareness."("human behaviour"). I understand self-awareness as being the time in which you realize your emotions and other people's.

The above memory is the earliest in which I remember being aware of my emotional state, in this case it was fear. Was this my first moment of self-awareness? I believe so. I don't have any other earlier memories where I remember feeling emotion. But what is accurate in this memory and what has my imagination created? I asked my mother to recount that day as she remembered it. Her story was far less dramatic than mine. I was about two or three years old, in my crib taking an afternoon nap. I woke up screaming bloody murder. She ran into my bedroom to see what the problem was. I tearfully told her that the butterflies were trying to get me. The butterflies in question were four wicker butterflies that hung on the wall next to my crib. One had fallen off the wall and was lying on the floor at the foot of my crib. When I look back on this memory and moment of self-awareness I see my mother's version being more accurate. It is impossible for wicker butterflies to come to life and try to attack me. However, I can still close my eyes and remember in detail