A few weeks ago, my head was in an uncomfortable place: stress, anxiety, and feeling overwhelmed.
For distraction, I went to Target to just roam around my happy place—the store holds peaceful significance from the time when my life was starting over.
From the corner of my eye, I saw this guy, a big tan Teddy Bear, tossed on a shelf unrelated to toys or similar products.
His brown eyes held my attention; he looked as lost and confounded as I felt. And because I believe everything, no matter how trivial, happens for a reason, I couldn't walk by and leave him there.
For the most part, I'm not an impulsive shopper. I checked his price tag—reduced way below the usual price—placed him in my cart, and considered who I could gift him to.
However, making my way through the store, I was not only growing attached to him, I noticed my dour mood was lifting, I was smiling.
Do I need a teddy bear? Absolutely not—I have a collection of bears, the holiday ones from various places, that my oldest son gives me every Christmas.
But that night, I sat him on the couch, and his head flopped to the side. There was empathy on his peaceful face, and I knew I couldn't part with him.
I told my middle kid the story. He laughed but understood and, for some reason, decided I should name him Frank.
So now Frank is my emotional support, Teddy Bear. 😍
Though it might seem silly to some, when you suffer from bouts of high anxiety, any relief is welcome. There are worse things I could do!
It's yet to be determined if I'll take him with me the next time I fly to NYC. If I do, despite my kids being understanding, they'll probably want seats far away from me. 😊
PS: There's definitely something about Target… several years ago, during a brutal patch in life, the kid and I were in Target in Cathedral City, and we encountered a clay pig, the kind you place in a garden. For reasons I can't explain, and though I knew I shouldn't flippantly spend the six dollars, I had to have him. The kid feeling my vibe insisted I buy him (he named him Phil) even if it meant he did without something he wanted.
Phil the pig has journeyed with us from Southern to Northern California, cross country to the East Coast, and back again.
Every time I look at him, I realize no matter how bad things might seem in the moment, they do get better. And when people love you unconditionally and instinctively understand when you need a clay pig or a teddy bear, you've got the world.
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