Security Blankets

We all have something that we use as our security blanket -- that actual physical thing that we turn to when times get a little tougher than we'd hoped. (And if you say you don't, you're either lying, heartless, or you die a little inside when a moment comes that would merit said object.)

Mine is a 2-inch stuffed dog that used to live in my pocket.

I'm not ashamed to admit this -- though I may be ashamed to admit when he's with me. But I'm not ashamed to admit the need of something so, well, juvenile. Whether or not a therapist would agree with me, I think that the ends justify the means.

I can only speak for my own situation, but I know that this dog comforts me because he grounds me through his innocence. (It certainly isn't a memory of a better time linked to this dog; I bought him at the darkest time of my depression in hopes to have such a security blanket object small enough to conceal on my person so others would not know.) The mere existence of something so juvenile reminds me that, sooner or later, I'll be able to just enjoy things for what they are -- as I did when I was 6.

And to have that desire to return to such a time of innocence is nothing I could ever be ashamed of.

And after all -- he's cute.