Separation Anxiety: It’s Not Just for Toddlers

Sometimes, Adults Need Something to Cuddle Too

I’m a grown woman — okay, a woman who belongs to AARP — who sleeps with a stuffed animal.

For most of my life, I didn’t feel the need to clutch a small, cuddly toy to make it through the night. But now I’ve come full circle, and don’t mind people knowing.

The first stuffed animal I loved was “Rabbit.” He was no beauty, even when he was new. He had short yellow fur on his face, arms, and legs, and an odd red-and-white-checked pattern on his chest and on the inside of his floppy ears. But Rabbit kept me safe every night.

We would hang together under the covers when my parents threw their frequent raucous parties. The sounds of glasses clinking, high-pitched women’s laughter, men’s loud, commanding voices, along with the smell of cigar and cigarette smoke would waft up the stairs and into my bedroom. Rabbit and I would confer under the sheets to make sense of it.

When my mom was drunk and mean, Rabbit understood. We had an imaginary, protected world. Rabbit and I threw our own parties in my canopy bed, to which we invited my other, less cherished, stuffed animals. Once, when my Dad came in to say goodnight, he asked what was going on under the covers.