My threadbare love affair:

Every night, without fail, I rustle through my bedsheets until I find what I’m looking for. What I cannot go to sleep without. What I’ve clutched in my hands, breathed in the smells of, and slept with almost every night since my birth, thirty odd years ago. My Blankie.

My Blankie was knitted by my paternal grandmother who died before l really got to know her. What’s interesting, however, is that my first, memory that I can recall with any real precision is of her. I remember being about 3-4 years old and visiting her in the hospital before she died. I can remember being picked up and held close to her, and can see her turning towards me and reaching out with her arms.

My Blankie is my most important and meaningful object. She’s more than just a bunch of knitted thread. I talk to her, hold her, smell her, wrap her around my neck, and generally like to keep her close when I’m home and chilling. The feel of her, her smell, her very presence, provides me with enormous comfort.

When I was a child, I decided or I knew that Blankie was a She. Blankie had a specific voice too. I don’t really use that voice anymore, I guess I’ve outgrown that much! But I can still hear her in my head.

What is Blankie? Why am I so attached? Blankie is, clinically speaking, my Transitional Object. Researcher Donald Woods Winnicot introduced the concept of transitional objects in infancy in his influential work in 1953. Infants are born without the concept of other and they initially feel as one with their mother. They express a need for something and the mother quickly attends. The infants wish becomes realized and this brings satisfaction; the infant believes that his wish created the very object of his desire (subjective omnipotence).

There is an objective reality out there, however, the infant soon learns. One in which he is dependent on his mother for his needs. The infant begins to understand the concept of Other, a concept that is distressing and anxiety provoking. In order to fill this newfound void, the use of a Transitional Object becomes ideal.

The Transitional Object then becomes an Other Object, the first sense of Not Me that the infant has. The infant learns to self soothe through the Object, placing their anxieties and distress into the object in a way.

Most children will eventually grow out of the need for a Transitional Object. However, there is a undeniable portion of the adult population who still hold onto such meaningful objects from their childhood. These objects still provide comfort and relief from anxiety and depression. In fact, a 2017 survey by the toy maker Build-A-Bear found that 40% of American adults still held onto childhood transitional objects. Maybe it’s time to normalize the adult use of blankies and teddies!

Blankie is tired looking and threadbare. What was once a magnificent blanket has now, through my intense love, been reduced to what really resembles a fragile and frail neck scarf. But to me, she’s beautiful. To me, she’s real.

From the words of my favourite childhood book, The Velveteen Rabbit, “Real isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.”