At my first birthday party, a family friend, whose name I don’t remember, gifted me a little teddy bear made out of brown fabric and three patches. Nearly 21 years later, that same teddy bear is still lying on my bed in my apartment.
When I got the teddy bear, I was immediately attached to him. Even though I had other toys, my precious bear was my favorite. He was my source of comfort — I dragged him to school, playdates and doctor appointments. He served as a little crutch and a constant companion, and there was not a place where I wouldn’t take him or a destination that was off-limits.
Because my teddy bear followed me everywhere, my dad decided the stuffed animal deserved a name as he essentially became a member of our family. He landed on the name “Conchudín,” which means “little cheeky” in Spanish.
Everything I recall from the first years of my life involves Conchudín and the overwhelming amount of love I felt for him. When I go home and look through old photo books, almost every picture of me features Conchudín held tightly in my arms.
When I was two years old, my family briefly moved from Colombia to Miami for my dad’s job. I hated flying because I was scared of plane turbulence, so my mom made sure I had my teddy bear with me to calm me down during the flight.
While we were going through security, the guards took my teddy bear to run it through the baggage scanner. I was too young to remember what happened, but my parents have told me multiple times that I screamed like I never had before until l got Conchudín back. The security guards were horrified by my blood-curdling cries and the other travelers quickly noticed what was going on, demanding security to quickly return my teddy bear.
I was only two, but even then I knew Conchudín was my most prized possession and I needed him to feel safe. He was the one thing that brought me comfort and no other toy could ever compare.
As I got older, my attachment to my teddy bear only became stronger. It felt as if Conchudín protected me from all evil, so from a young age I vowed to do anything to protect him, too.
I took that task seriously and cared for Conchudín every day. I would freak out even when my mom washed him because I was scared the washing machine would hurt him, so I always waited in front of the washer watching it spin to make sure Conchudín was okay.
Conchudín had three little patches I used to scratch to calm me down when I was nervous and helped me fall asleep faster. I didn’t only play with the patches when I was anxious, but it was a constant mindless habit I would do when I was bored at home, reading a book or watching a movie. My parents didn’t think anything of it until I was around eight years old and the pediatrician recommended I stop fidgeting with the patches because the constant friction was damaging my fingerprints.
My parents did what they could to take my precious teddy bear away, but I put up an outstanding fight and they gave up pretty quickly. Just thinking about not having Conchudín with me made me feel sick. I needed that teddy bear because he was the only thing that helped me cope with life.
Conchudín helped me feel better when I was scared before the first day of school. He comforted me when my grandpa had a stroke and was hospitalized for months. When I couldn’t sleep because of my racing thoughts about his condition, I would simply hug Conchudín at night and feel like everything would be okay. He helped me overcome my first panic attack and all the ones that followed.
My teddy bear is sacred to me. Currently, Conchudín’s all torn up, the patches are falling apart and the seam in the middle of his belly desperately needs stitches. But regardless of his current state, Conchudín was the first thing I packed when I moved to college. Even though I don’t sleep with him anymore, I think Conchudín is the most important thing I own.
I don’t need Conchudín to get through life nowadays, but I still keep my promise to protect him. Conchudín has always brought me peace and comfort no matter how old I am or what stage of life I find myself in.
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