What My Stuffed Animal Taught Me About Emotional Healing

In November of 2020, I was prescribed an emotional support animal. At the time, it wasn’t what I wanted to hear—and definitely not what I thought I needed. I wasn’t prepared to fully digest the weight of the diagnosis: major depression, military sexual trauma, and a few other things I thought I had already conquered through sobriety. I mean, hadn’t I done the work? I had been sober for 13 years. I had survived. I had moved forward.

But that’s the trap of survival mode. It convinces us that productivity is healing, that staying busy is enough. But when pain goes unprocessed, it doesn’t go away—it lingers. It festers. It waits. And eventually, it reintroduces itself tenfold, forcing us to feel it, face it, forgive it… or else.

I know this cycle all too well.

At the time, I didn’t have the funds to adopt or purchase an emotional support animal, so I went with what I had. I turned to the next best thing—an old friend named Bamboo.

As a reminder, this photo was taken after one of the heaviest therapy sessions in my recovery.

Bamboo is a stuffed animal I’ve had since 2008, just after my first year of sobriety. He’s been with me through a lot, including the days I lived in my truck (a testimony I’ll share another day). What I didn’t expect was how much comfort I’d find in him all over again, years later.

After therapy sessions, I caught myself holding Bamboo without thinking—sometimes crying, sometimes just needing the quiet reassurance of something familiar. Somehow, in this strange and sacred way, Bamboo became part of my emotional healing. He reminded me that I’m still mending neglected pieces of my spirit, and that my inner child deserves comforting and compassion.

This stuffed animal reminded me that recovery doesn’t stop at sobriety. Sobriety clears the path. But healing? That’s a lifelong journey. Sometimes, what helps us the most doesn’t look like strength from the outside … it looks like quiet comfort after facing the weight of a hard truth.

One day, I’ll get that puppy. But for now, Bamboo is more than enough. He’s been my “ride-or-die” through the pruning, the growth, and the quiet ache of learning to feel again.

Until next time … stay encouraged.

Elora