Putting away the childish things

Just before xmas, I had a rough night. My annual bout of strep throat descended upon me rather more quickly than usual and left me unable to fall asleep. All my usual self-care techniques and a dose of melatonin weren't enough to help, and, because I'd already taken the melatonin, I didn't want to take a stronger sleep aid. So I lay cocooned in bed with my eyes closed, planning the fastest way to get antibiotics the next morning and wishing for sleep to overcome me. Fortunately, I had Smurfy with me. Smurfy, as you may remember, is my very favourite stuffed toy smurf who has been with me since I was a little baby. Having the familiar shape of Smurfy there to cuddle with, as I have on countless other rough nights, brought me calm and comfort made it easier to get through. I was awake, but I wasn't fretting about it. I was just lying there, warm and safe, until the walk-in clinic opened.

In the next morning's newspaper, I found that Doonesbury was doing an arc where Sam (age 12) decides to give up her dolls. That made me think of how, when I was a kid, I was constantly aware of the fact that I'd "have to" give up Smurfy. It was weighing on my mind from the age of about 6, and it was utterly terrifying. And all that time, I felt vaguely ashamed that I hadn't already managed to give him up.

I didn't bring Smurfy to slumber parties for fear of being mocked, and never slept well. I trained myself to sleep with other (newer, less worn out, more expendable) stuffed animals so I'd have a more respectable-looking contingency plan for multi-night overnight school trips. I would put Smurfy away when I had a friend over, and obviously he gets the night off when I have human company in bed with me. (An interesting side effect has been that the minimum requirements for sharing my bed have always been you need to be better company than Smurfy. I have met more people than you'd expect who do not meet this requirement.) But, despite all these efforts, Smurfy never became unnecessary. There's still a certain shade of comfort that only he can bring. So I've given up the idea of giving him up. I may choose not to use Smurfy from time to time for various reasons, but that's no reason to abandon my oldest friend and forever eliminate the possibility of enjoying that particular shade of comfort ever again.

But what's sad is that I spent so much of my life thinking I did have to give him up. For years I dreaded the fact that I would one day have to manage without Smurfy, and at the same time felt guilty for still needing him. I'm not entirely sure where this idea came from. I don't remember anyone specifically telling me that I'd have to give him up. It might be an extrapolation from the fact that none of the adults around me slept with stuffed animals. But right now, if I were ever talking to a child who's worried that they'd need to give a beloved toy, I'd tell them outright "You don't ever need to give it up. You can keep it as long as you want. The reason why you don't see a lot of adults with toys is that people tend to find they don't need them as much as they get older, but that doesn't mean you have to give yours up. And even if, as you get older, you find you need it less or don't want to use it every day, you can still keep it for the rest of your life, in a box or a closet or a drawer, just in case."

Being able to soothe oneself to sleep is a useful life skill, and a harmless comfort object that reliably does the job is a good thing to have on hand. No one should ever spend years like I did dreading having to do without when giving it up is so unnecessary and keeping it is not in any way a problem.