OP you have brought up an emotional topic for me. Toys. Or, more precisely One Toy, I shall never forget. When I was 8 years old in 1983 I once bought from a yard sale a gorgeous hand made knitted doll that had been made probablly for a baby gift, and never used. I paid .25 cents for it and was so proud and pleased with her. I still can recall vividly how she smelled of a fabric softener of some sort. She had that fresh clean scent of a baby. I had a name for her. I kept her all these years until recently. …let me explain…
As I grew up I generally brought her out less and less, but still kept her near – like in the closet. And she somehow retained that scent. Once in a while, even as a married woman I would bring her out and take a good whiff, of her, pushing my nose deep into her belly, trying to recapture that comforting smell she one had, or still had, or maybe it was just my imagination. Sometimes when I was emotional, or feeling sad, misunderstood or overwhelmed or insecure, I would sleep with her under my arm.
However, it really bothered my husband, I could tell. He was like ” Grow up?” So I tried not to do it. I told myself it was immature afterall.
But over time, I had come to realize that whatever associations I have with her and my past, and my childhood were sad recollections, sad hopes and dreams never materialized, and so i wanted to heal, and throw it all away. To get on with my life. So one day I decided to throw her out. I put her in the garbage erev pesach this past yomtov. I dont think i should regret it, but when i saw her little sweater remained behind in the toy cupboard with my kids doll clothes, I got emotional recently. I wasn’t trying to punish her by throwing her away. I just really wanted to get past those sad years of my childhood. And not feel like a helpless little girl anymore.
And funny enough….even until now, whenver I lay sad in my bed at night, feeling misunderstood, and insecure I remember her with a terrible pain and regret for having thrown her out. And I wish I could smell her and feel her under my arm.
Otherwise I really don’t think of her. However, I haven’t mentioned her name here in this small story of mine, because it will upset me. And I might get all regretful again.
But I liked how you mentioned you have silly putty by your bedside. I might get myself some for when I have stress.