Adults Who Sleep With Teddy Bears

[Listen to an audio version of this blog here.]

I sleep with a bear-duck; a dead-eyed teddy bear dressed in a kitschy duck suit. I found it on sale at Aldi after Easter one year, in a huge bin of other bear-ducks, plus some bear-rabbits, and even a few bear-flowers. I didn’t necessarily need a teddy bear, but I did. I was fresh out of a breakup and I’d gotten rid of my teddy bear because it was a gift from my ex. The bear-duck appealed to me because it wasn’t steeped in nostalgia or feeling. It was purely utilitarian, and it were cheap ($3.99). Nearly three years later, I still sleep with the thing.

I sleep with my bear-duck because I need something to hold. My cat is too warm and too mobile. My pillows are too big. My bear-duck is the perfect size to mash between my elbows and collarbone. More importantly, it helps me sleep. I’ll be thirty next year, and I have a pretty good grasp on the basics of adulthood. I pay rent and get my oil changed. I pay taxes and get my pap smears and sleep 7–8 hours each night. I can cook eggs, I’ve been through years of therapy, and I’m fairly okay at maintaining my friendships. So sometimes, I feel a bit weird that I still hug a fluffy stuffed animal every night. Is it too weird, I wondered? I’m here to tell you that, according to two of my past therapists and a host of internet psychologists, no. It isn’t weird. And it isn’t…