Finding Self Care in Build-a-Bear
Artwork by Tina Tully
When I was little, I slept with a pile of stuffed animals on my bed. I would hold a few of them in my arms while I dozed off, and the rest stood guard at my feet to protect me from nightmares. My ability to fall asleep depended on the right combination of stuffed animals under the covers. If a particularly frightening nightmare woke me up in the middle of the night, my mom would tuck me back into bed reciting all the names of my stuffed animals, and how they’d protect me from any bad dreams lingering in my room. While I can now fall asleep without holding a teddy bear, I do not think I ever fully outgrew my dependence on stuffed animals. Last December, I was able to prove that finding comfort in stuffed animals is a lifelong coping mechanism for me. Whilst experiencing a particularly rough bout of sadness, I turned away from my usual strategy of climbing under a warm blanket and watching comfort movies. Instead, I took a trip to Build-a-Bear.
When I approached a couple of my closest friends with the pitch — “Let’s go to Build-a-Bear and buy overpriced teddy bears as mementos of our friendship to forget all our worries!” — they immediately agreed to take the short metro ride to the nearest Build-a-Bear. My friends most likely saw me in a mentally unstable state begging them to come buy a teddy bear, because whether or not they agreed to go with me, I would be embarking on the journey to the store regardless. A single college student stress-buying a teddy bear is a mental breakdown, but a gaggle of college girls at Build-a-Bear is a bonding activity. So, my three friends and I took a jaunt to the store, reverting back to an internal childhood version of ourselves once we stepped through the door. I immediately spotted a tan rabbit with soft fur and an adorable pink nose, and snatched it up. I held it in my arms and exclaimed: “It can be a Friendship Bunny!”
Friendship Bunny is not just a stuffed rabbit to me; it represents finding people that really get me and care about me. This rabbit represents all the joyous moments I have shared with my friends: singing Olivia Rodrigo into a hot pink karaoke microphone in my dorm room on Halloween, devouring massive ice cream floats at a local restaurant on a Friday night, and taking a walk in the park under the autumn leaves. Friendship Bunny embodies all the times my friends have been there for me, through the tears and deep talks and secret sharing. In a way, Friendship Bunny represents my own self-reliance, in trusting myself to create a support system. This bunny reminds me that I have been through hard times and that I can climb out of the spells of sadness. Friendship Bunny is pure comfort, embodied, serving as a reminder that it is okay to not be okay all the time. It is okay to fall asleep with a teddy bear in your arms every now and then, even if you are 19 years old.
I could feel the significance of this new stuffed animal as I held it in line to get it stuffed up with fluff and sewed up. Apparently, I did not keep the significance to myself. I must have said the phrase “friendship bunny” enough times, between picking up the bunny and going to get it stuffed, that the kind Build-a-Bear employee asked with a smile when it was my turn, “Is this Friendship Bunny?” This Build-a-Bear employee, with all the goodness in her heart, looked at the group of college girls standing in a Build-a-Bear during the holiday season surrounded by screaming children and handed each of my friends a small plush fabric heart to drop into my bunny. “If it is a friendship bunny, all of you guys have to make a wish on the hearts before we sew it up,” she said. I made a wish on my heart in one of the most spiritual moments of my life since my Bat Mitzvah, and dropped it into Friendship Bunny. Each of my friends dropped their hearts in, and the kind Build-a-Bear employee sewed up Friendship Bunny, with four hearts beating loudly, love radiating from within their fluff and fur. I accessorized Friendship Bunny with a St. Louis Blues hockey sweatshirt to memorialize my first semester of school in the Midwest, paid for my new companion, and left with my friends. We headed back to campus, each of us holding a new teddy bear in our arms.
I wonder if this Build-a-Bear employee had seen this scene before — sad college students trying to find joy in teddy bears. I wonder if she knew that letting me embrace my inner child and make a wish on that heart would help me erase a fraction of the sadness clouding my head. Part of me hopes that Build-a-Bear saw many 20-year-olds buy a teddy bear, mid-breakdown, and that I am not the only one. Part of me doesn’t care if I am the only person that finds buying overpriced teddy bears therapeutic. When I am lying in bed, cradling Friendship Bunny in my arms like it is a child, I feel a fraction of a bit better. Unfortunately, Build-a-Bear did not whisk away my sadness overnight. Whilst it was not a cure for all my mental health problems, it is a healthy coping mechanism. Build-a-Bear is my self-care. The bonding experience of spending time with friends, who care about me and made wishes on plush hearts to fill a teddy bear, made me feel loved. The experience reminded me of my support system.
It is so important to have a form of self-care that works for you. Build-a-Bear might not be the answer for everyone, but as I enter adulthood, I feel secure in knowing that finding the toy store in any mall will help me feel more whole. I never would have guessed before I left home for college that I would find myself at a Build-a-Bear, but I guess that life is filled with some lovely surprises.
I have accepted that I never grew out of my dependence on stuffed animals. Instead of chasing nightmares away, Friendship Bunny chases away my anxieties. They are not perfect at keeping away all the worries, but we work together to reach a happy medium. Even in the toughest bouts of sadness where I might feel utterly alone, I have Friendship Bunny to remind me of that day in December, when everything was okay for a few hours. With four hearts beating loud in its teddy bear chest, Friendship Bunny reminds me that everything will be okay eventually. ♦