The Diary of a Misunderstood Woman: Martha in "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?"

 Martha is Afraid of Virginia Woolf

The Diary of a Misunderstood Woman

Adapted by Emma Mikita

September 25, 1962

George will be getting home any minute now. I made his favorite for dinner. Roasted chicken with mashed potatoes. I even made a chocolate pie for dessert. I'm trying to be better for him, for us. We used to be so great. . . I don't know what happened. 

September 26, 1962

George is off to work again, the worst part of my day. We bickered last night after he told me the chicken was dry, but the argument was brief. I think he knew I tried my hardest so he didn't keep on me too much. It was a good night. Although, I do think I drank a little too much. I must stop doing that, it's a disgraceful habit. 

October 6, 1962

George and I went dancing last night. I danced and danced like no one was watching. Except, of course, everyone was watching. I don't mind. George joined in, too. God, I love him I love him I love him. My husband and my dance partner, thank God for him!

October 10, 1962

I'm sitting alone at the kitchen table as George is upstairs sleeping, the whiskeys he poured himself at dinner must have knocked him out. It's moments like these, when the night is quiet and I am left to sit with my thoughts, my loud, excruciating thoughts, that I think of my boy. My sweet boy. At least I have him. He is all I need.

October 17, 1962

I am so alone, so so alone. It's just me and this half-drunk glass. And my son. 

George and Martha, Martha and George, we were so good, full of life and love and excitement. Now what are we? Tired and angry--that's what. Beaten down by life . . . and by each other. I'm sorry George. I'm so sorry. I wish it would have worked for us. But I guess this 

October 18, 1962

I must have fallen asleep and never even finished that sentence from last night. I don't remember what I was going to say. Damn whiskey, makes me forget things. I'll get off it one of these days.

October 29, 1962

Daddy's having a little soirée this weekend with the professors at the college. Daddy hired a new professor in the math department. Or was it biology? It doesn't matter, Daddy seems to like him and that's all I care about. George and I are ready to get dolled up and fancy. Boy, do I love to mingle! 

November 3, 1962

Woke up this morning with a violent headache. I must start laying off the liquor. George and I had guests over last night, a boring little man and wife. Nick and Honey were their names. 

George and I fought last night, but this fight was different from the others. I don't know if I can move on from this one. He killed our boy. Why did he have to go and kill our only child? This morning, he told me he was trying to save us. He killed our son in order to save us? How can it be so? George took away the one thing in this world that I needed. What George doesn't understand is that maybe our son was here to protect us, to save us from each other. Now, all we have is George and Martha, Martha and George. I don't know if we will make it. As far as I'm concerned, when I lost my son, I lost all the joy in my life. 

November 4, 1962

I can't go on like this. I can't go on. I just can't.

November 5, 1962

I must go on. I will. For our boy. 

*When reading Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? I felt that Martha was often misunderstood. Misunderstood by George, by Nick, by Honey, and occasionally by me. I wanted to convey Martha as a woman who was not perfect, who was struggling with the life she found herself living. By writing a diary from her perspective, I hope to show that she was not a one-dimensional character, but rather a character who felt and experienced many different things.