Where Are Your Childhood “Ted and a Blankie” When You Need Them?

Photo courtesy of this author: Meet my lifelong pal, “Ted”

“Now that I’m all grown up, I can buy any old Teddy bear I want — except the old Teddy bear I want.”
William Sternman

Remember how easy it was to solve life’s miseries when you were a kid? Okay, I’m not talking about the big horrible ones that many of us have experienced in toxic homes and that sort of thing. I’m talking about your average bumps and bruises of childhood, such as being told “no,” or being sent to your room for some minor infraction.

Or perhaps your best friend wouldn’t share his best toys or had gone to play with some other little kid.

You knew just how to fix those booboos. You had your very best pal, “Ted” — you know, the ratty, old, worn stuffed bear — or a reasonable facsimile. “Ted” was always there, ready to be dragged around, squished too hard, cried on, snotted on, and then left with the dust bunnies under the bed after you’d forgotten why you were crying in the first place.

And he never even minded, bless him.

“When everyone else has let you down, there’s always Ted.”
— Clara Ortega

Or you had your blankie. Tattered and threadbare, it could probably stand up by itself unless your mama peeled it out from under you while you were sleeping and stuffed it in the washing machine.

When the world was being mean to you, you could grab your blankie and retreat by curling up in your favourite chair or in your bed. Blankie would work its warm and comforting magic until you fell asleep or something else got your attention.

Then you grew up.

Life got harder. Problems were bigger. On your bad days, that frustrated little kid who just wants to cry is still inside you. That little kid just wants to stamp a foot and run for Ted and Blankie.

But they’re nowhere to be found.

Who knows where they went, but bless them, they took all your secrets with them, never to be shared.

“Security is a thumb and blanket.”
— Charles M. Schulz

So you and the “little kid inside” just carry on, the little kid wanting to burst into tears or run away (or both) but you say no, we have to stay put. The weight of the world is on your shoulders but there’s no Ted to listen, no blankie for comfort.

Then you end up at the kitchen table of some kindly old lady, perhaps a neighbour or an aunt who shoves a steaming mug of hot cocoa at you, saying it’ll put everything right. It’s like a big hug, she says, nice and warm and comforting.

You’re not the type to open up and tell people your troubles. Oh, no, you couldn’t do that! Not that she’s asking, of course. She just wants you to have a steaming mug of hot cocoa.

So you’re happy to sit there, sipping your cocoa, and the kindly old lady doesn’t say much.

She’s kinda like Ted that way.

Then a few words escape your lips. And a few more and a few more and your cocoa disappears while you find yourself telling Mrs. Kindly what’s wrong.

And how cool is that? She was right.

By the time you finish that cocoa, you do feel better. It was just like a big hug, nice and warm and comforting — like your blankie used to be. You haven’t solved all your problems, by any means. But maybe you’ve got a new perspective. Maybe things don’t seem so bad.

Or maybe you understand that you don’t have to fix everything right now.

All that matters in that moment is that you feel better. You can face those problems again. Maybe even tackle one or two in the morning.

Thank heaven for the Teds in our lives, who so willingly share their blankies with us whenever we need them.

Spiritual Arts Mentor and Master Teacher, Liberty Forrest, guides you in discovering who you are, why you’re here, and how to follow that path.