...But It Has A Face On It

Ever since I was young, I would give inanimate objects with faces a soul that did not exist. It was extremely difficult to get rid of old stuffed animals for this reason. If they would fall apart, I would try to fix them myself (usually badly), because I couldn't stand the thought of them being "hurt." Even though logically, I knew they weren't alive, it FELT like they were.

I feel guilty whenever I throw away packaging with faces on them as well. Every time I would throw away diaper packaging, I'd feel a pang of guilt as I look down at the face of a baby on it.

Another instance, is when church members would come to our home and give us pamphlets with Jesus on them. There were pamphlets for religions I would never even consider, but since they had Jesus on I just couldn't toss them out. My faith is very murky and it's hard for me to say with certainty if Jesus really existed. However, if there WAS a Jesus, he seemed like a really great, kind man and out of respect for him, I kept the pictures and booklets safe by storing them in an old shoebox.

I have a bunch of my old stuffed animals that I have had since childhood in my garage at this very moment. They were in storage for years and since we packed all our possessions in cardboard boxes, I'm afraid to say rats have chewed through them and a lot of the items were contaminated. My husband started throwing out these soiled items; items that we have not used in years. It did not bother him to do so and for the most part, it didn't bother me either. A lot of it was fairly easy to let go of. Old shoes and old clothes (a lot of which were too small for me, because I stopped starving myself and started eating like a normal person) were thrown out with relative ease.

Everything was going smoothly until we came upon a box that had my old backpack in it. Inside the backpack were my stuffed animals. I had put them in my backpack, for when we were almost evacuated in Camp Pendleton due to a fire. The thought of them burning was too awful to bear, so I stuffed them into a black polka dotted backpack I had since high school. Luckily, our house was not in the fire's path, but the animals remained in that backpack for a long time.

My husband finished serving his 4 year contract for the Marines and so we moved from Camp Pendleton back to our hometown, Delano. Unfortunately, my husband had to do all the packing for the move, because I was getting extensive treatment for Ativan withdrawals. Believe me, if I would have known they'd get damaged while in storage, I would have gone back to Camp Pendleton (about 3 hours away from where I was) and collected them. So, the stuffed animals were packed away in a storage unit for almost 2 years. For about 2 years, we lived in my parent's home until my husband went through the application process to become a correctional officer. From there, we moved into a newly constructed home (still in our hometown near our families) and started a family.

My husband asked, since they were a bit dirty, if I was okay with throwing them away. This caused me to feel all panicky. My eyes got big and a little watery as I desperately told him I wanted to keep them. He was a bit taken back by this reaction, but agreed that it was fine if I wanted to keep them. He knew they meant a lot to me.

I mulled it over for a while and I thought, "I'm not even sure where I will put all those stuffed animals." Also, if I decided to keep them, I would need to wash them really well. Even after that, I'm not sure how sanitary they'd be. So for a brief moment, I finally decided that I would get rid of them, because it would be easier that way.

Even though I thought I had made a solid decision, once I actually told my husband that I would get rid of the plushies for good, I suddenly felt that panicky feeling and backtracked. "Wait, I don't think I can do it," I told him with a sad look on my face. My husband didn't mind either way, so it was my decision of course, but I am VERY indecisive. So, shortly after I felt ready to toss these old things, I suddenly couldn't do such a thing.

I am not sure where this kind of belief comes from. I don't know anyone else who has trouble throwing away anything with a face on it. Sometimes, this tendency concerns me, because it seems an awful like hoarding behavior. Sometimes, I feel if I'm not careful, I am not far from becoming an extreme hoarder like the ones you see on T.V. This is not my biggest issue in life, so it has never been mentioned in any of my therapy sessions. It is a quirk that only my husband and I know about. Maybe, someday I will mention it to others, but I feel like that is a story for another day.

I hope that you could find entertainment in this story or maybe you are even able to emphasize with me on this issue. If you'd like, I would highly appreciate any tips. Therapy is expensive after all!