Stuffed Animals Have Feelings
“Aww, look! It’s hanging off the shelf because it wants us to take it home!” My mother says, as she takes the stuffed cat and places it in our shopping cart.
Ever since I was young I have been drawn to stuffed animals. Still at my interesting age of 22 years old, I see stuffed animals and can’t help but think, that one needs a home. I believe I have such an attachment to stuffed animals because of two things: children’s television and my mom. When I was younger, my favorite show to watch was Little Bear. It was such a sweet, innocent show about a bear cub and his friends playing together and maybe getting into some kind of trouble. The idea of a bear being able to talk and play games isn’t odd to children, so I think I ran with that concept and figured, if he can do that, so can my animal friends. On the other hand, my mom grew up thinking and feeling the same way, feeling bad for stuffed animals who lived in a store, on shelves, instead of at somebody’s home to call their own. I joke around with my mom, saying she ‘made me this way,’ but why not practice being empathetic and utilize your imagination for the rest of your adult life? Sounds like fun to me!
Almost every baby I’ve known, including myself, has one or two stuffed animals they deem as their favorite, and can’t go anywhere, maybe just around the house, without it. Mine was Pinky. He is a pink bear with a light blue, now brown and blue, ribbon tied around his neck. He is a soft fleece material and still sits in my room to this day. He’s made his rounds between in a basket and on top of my bed, depending on how I was feeling, I think. Now, Pinky permanently lives in a basket in the corner of my bedroom, along with about 15 other stuffed animals I’ve decided were important enough to keep.
Stuffed animals can serve as some sort of security blanket or friend in a moment of panic or despair, or even in moments of happiness. Yes, they’re for playing, and pretending they can talk and think is a part of the childhood experience, but having them there for indirect moral support is beautiful, in a way. Whenever my parents were fighting or I was feeling scared to fall asleep in the pitch blackness of my corner room, I held onto Pinky, or another I was rotating into the mix, tightly, knowing that they’d be there to keep me safe, if only just for that night.
Having this frame of mind, feeling bad for stuffed animals and treating them as if they’re real, has taken a toll on my ability to get rid of things. I definitely identify as a nostalgic person, especially for items from my childhood, notes written by friends I no longer see or speak to, or anything that reminds me of good times, including some clothing. When deciding if I should get rid of something or not, I tug back and forth with myself, thinking, ‘Oh I might wear that soon even though I haven’t worn it in two years’ or ‘I can’t get rid of this note from Melissa B. in first grade, it means too much to me and I remember the day she gave it to me outside of my bus!’ or ‘I made this stuffed animal at Build-A-Bear with my friends, why would I just give it away?’ I think I have a problem.
Some of my friends have no problem giving things away, but maybe this has something to do with the way you were raised. Unsure of the psychology behind it all, all I know is I’m learning to let go of things I truly don’t need anymore, but my stuffed animals are probably not going anywhere. They’ll be so sad if I give them away! (lol, see what I mean?)
