What really struck me in “The Yellow Wallpaper” was how alone the patient was. She was so far removed from her own treatment, her child, and own family. She had nothing to do every day for months and was not allowed to write or socialize. It was to the point where the unnamed character had no identity at all. Since her autonomy was slowly taken from her, she found her “self” in the wallpaper. She no longer thought of her family and child anymore and saw it as her task to figure out the wallpaper pattern. It was as though she was trying to find herself in the crooked and puzzling print. She would tear at it, call it disgusting, and she would stay up at night just thinking of the pattern and how lost and angry it made her feel. Rather than being confused and disgusted by the actions of her husband and the neglect she felt towards her care, she projected her feelings towards the paper. It was the paper’s fault she was angry, not her husbands. She slowly saw women creeping in the wallpaper and eventually became the unhinged creepy women crawling through the grounds.