important warning...

I feel that it is my duty to inform all of you of a potential hazard that may be lurking in your child's very nursery. This common item can cause a lifetime of heartache, a constant cycle of pain and loss.

The item of which I speak is a book, a book filled with false promises and lies.  The book is The Velveteen Rabbit and despite the fabulous reviews and the ringing endorsements of thousands of teachers, mothers and babysitters... this book causes a terrible disorder, Inanimatous Personificationitis, which can ultimately lead to a severe case of A.A.P.R.S (Acquired Adult Pack Rat Syndrome).  I know, as I am a life-long sufferer now on the road to a slow and steady recovery.

For those unfamiliar with the book, it tells the charming story of a young boy who fills a small velveteen rabbit with so much love that it becomes real, a real rabbit.  OK, yeah so a lot of other crap happens in the middle -- involving Scarlett fever and a fairy or some shit, but the point is this...  after the first reading of this story, at a very impressionable age, all that I took away was the fact that anything that I owned and loved was real, with feelings and emotions, needs and wants...  etc, etc, etc.

How does this translate into a life of misery?  Well, I have very disturbing attachments to inanimate objects.  Growing up, I was convinced that I had to spend equal time with all of my toys and stuffed animals so that none would feel slighted.  God forbid that I lose anything. I am surprised that my parents were not driven to hiring private investigators just to find my lost purple crayon.

Stay with me folks... I understand that most children have unnatural attachments to woobies and blankies and teddy bears and toothbrushes and Cheerios and keys and plastic bottles and magazines and balls of dog hair... but most children outgrow this phase and become perfectly adept and discarding these items, throwing them aside for the latest and greatest thing. I. however, am still plagued by this disorder.  I am often racked with grief, worried about whether I am spending enough time with my kitchen mixer, whether my car is feeling neglected because it hasn't been washed in several weeks.

I cannot part with anything (cars, homes, old shoes, wooden spoons) without long and sometimes tearful goodbyes.  I must thank the item for its dutiful service, indicate my sincerest appreciation for standing by my side and seeing me through thick and thin. It is critical that I believe that the item know they are going on the serve a new family, someone who needs them more than I do... someone who will love them just as much.  Even if, they are just going into the trashcan. (Don't even get me started on dealing with the feelings of betrayal on trash day.  I have actually rescued things from the grips of the neighborhood sanitation manager.)

It is such an emotionally draining experience that I will go out of my way to not discard anything, ever. I have boxes of old books, stuffed animals, Tupperware, clothes that will NEVER fit again, and various other and sundry crap that would probably net me a total of $68.76 at a garage sale, but, at the current per square foot rate in the Austin real estate market, is costing me approximately $20K in storage space in my house. 

[I think that I already mentioned that I am an only child and have a host of issues associated with that particular condition... really, people we are only scraping the surface here.]

After countless hours of personal exploration motivated by my family's constant mocking, I have come to the conclusion that this all started with that damn rabbit.  Why would someone ever plant a seed in a small child's head that things can become real?  It seems cruel to me. Imagine if I had never read that book...  I might be normal. Might be.

Bean received this book as a gift a few weeks ago and now I am in a fight to save him from my fate. It has been hidden away while I decide what I am going to do.  The problem is that I now feel guilty for hiding it away.  Maybe it is scared and lonely stuck in the back of Bean's closet...

Comments

[buffi]

I could have written this post! I am the same way. I can't get rid of anything without being wracked with unreasonable guilt. *sigh* Perhaps we can form a support group...

[Kate W.]

I think it is because of that book that I have named every one of my cars. To make them happy of course... Support Group sounds good! :)

[Holly]

Sounds like it is a good thing I was never read that book as a child. I have enough of a problem worrying about everything and everyone, I would be a basket case if I had to also worry about inanimate objects!

Funny post!