(It’s Not a Security Blanket. It’s a Lifestyle Choice.)

When I was a kid, I had the blanket. You know the one. Threadbare but beloved. Always slightly damp at one corner. Soft in a way nothing else on earth quite managed to be. I dragged it everywhere—across tile floors, into the back seat of the car, across my lap during long movies I didn’t understand but refused to miss. I even brought it into the center of department store clothing racks so I could hide inside the polyester fortress and breathe in the scent of my blanket—of home—while blocking out the metallic tang of hangers and the stale fog of department store perfume.

I don’t remember life before it, but I do remember the beginning of the end.

First, I was told gently but firmly that I didn’t need it anymore.

Then just firmly.

And then—I wasn’t asked to give it up all at once. I was told to cut it in half. And then that half was cut in half. And again. And again. Until all I had left was a fraying thread of comfort and the knowledge that even that was temporary.

Eventually, there was no blanket left at all. Just the lesson:
You don’t get to keep the things that make you feel safe.

So I carried other things. More acceptable things. A book. A clever retort. A perfectly timed laugh. A personality like a curated mixtape of everyone around me.

But here’s the twist I didn’t see coming:
If you’re lucky—or tired enough—you stop performing adulthood the way they taught you and start rebuilding it in a way that actually feels like home.

So I have to ask…do you have version of the blanket?
Is it a perfectly worn hoodie? A chipped mug that fits just right in your hands? A playlist that understands your moods better than your friends do? A silly little ritual that brings your nervous system back online?

Drop it in the comments, or just whisper it to yourself the next time someone tells you to “toughen up.”
(You don’t have to. Soft is a survival skill.)