The year I turned three, one of my birthday gifts was a soft, brown teddy bear, the classic stuffed toy with black button eyes, floppy paws, and a snuggly belly. I named him Tedrick, and he became my constant companion. He had his own seat at the table next to mine, a place on the sofa where I read him stories, and his own side of the bed when we went to sleep at night. He was the star pupil in my “classroom” when I played Teacher, and the favorite child among my family of other animal toys and dolls when I played house. I protected him from all harm, hiding him away when my most rambunctious cousin came to visit, holding him tightly in my arms on car trips for fear he would somehow get sucked out the window and lost.
He was my friend, my baby, my comforter. When he was with me I felt safer, calmer, less lonely and anxious.
Most children – even very loved and cherished children like I was - have harmless, benign comforters like my Tedrick. Sadly, adults sometimes place too much pressure on children to “outgrow” those comfort objects and habits. My parents were very kind in that regard, and Tedrick still slept on my pillow until I got married and left home for good.
As we age, our need for comforting doesn’t disappear. If anything, it increases with the demands and stressors of modern living. The difficulty is finding satisfaction in those kinds of sweet comforts we had as children and not turning to more insidious ways of feeling safe and calm and less isolated. Overeating, drinking too much, shopping, hours on the internet – those are some of the most acceptable “grown up” ways to self-soothe.
Believe me, I know. I’ve tried them all at one time or another in the past 50 years.
Part of my focus on Healing this year was a desire to improve my sleep. For years – maybe even decades – I’ve suffered from almost daily interrupted sleep. Over the past year as we’ve all coped with stress, lifestyle change, and loss during the Covid crisis, the lack of sleep began to affect me more deeply than ever. At age 64 I could no longer power through day after day on three or four hours of sleep while still managing stress and anxiety. And let’s be honest – sharing a bed (even a King sized bed) with a large man and a little dog is not all that conducive to restful sleep either. Before I moved to the guest room permanently, I decided to do everything I could to encourage my body to sleep.
One of those things was finding myself a sleep comforter, and it turned out to be something I already had in my closet: a soft, warm, button-down polar fleece pajama top I bought a number of years ago to pull on over my regular pajamas on extra cold winter mornings while drinking coffee in bed. Even though I’m mostly a warm sleeper at night, my shoulders are invariably cold no matter what the season. Now when I get in bed each night I pull this soft topper around my chest and shoulders. Not only is it warm but also comforting and calming, like a light, loving hug. Instantly I feel soothed and more relaxed. And when my eyes pop open at 3:00 a.m. and the ticker tape of anxiety starts to unwind in my brain, I rewrap myself in that little sweater and focus on my breathing until I can calm down and go back to sleep.
What a simple thing, this comforting piece of sleepwear. As we’ve been traveling this winter, first to Florida and now here in Texas, it’s been with me every step of the way. My husband calls it my “Linus blanket,” which is quite an accurate description. It’s one of the tools in my toolbox of comfort remedies that’s helping me sleep more soundly, and also helping me heal.
Funny, isn’t it? How sometimes the most simple things can make a great impact on life in general.
Maybe there’s some small, simple object like this that brings you comfort? A certain cup for drinking your coffee in the morning? A special pillow you tuck into the small of your back when you’re watching TV or reading? A favorite blanket you can tuck around your legs? If you pay attention, you might find one in the ordinary things you use every day. You might realize it has healing and comforting powers of which you weren’t even aware.
And in case you’re wondering what happened to Tedrick after I left him behind on that fateful day 45 years ago... when I was preparing to sell my mother’s house after she died a few years ago, I found him in a large paper bag stuffed in a closet under the basement stairs. After shedding some tears over his threadbare fur and floppy neck, I brought him home and propped him atop a pile of soft pillows on the guest room bed, along with my son’s favorite Winnie the Pooh. These two old gents have earned their quiet retirement.
But I don’t mind admitting that sometimes I go in and give them a comforting hug.