The main man, Pig. He’s not the flashiest pig—he’s meant to be pink but looks more grey now than pink, scruffy, and his stuffing has long since settled into that well-loved kind of lopsided. But Pig has been with me through every milestone that mattered and every moment that broke me. He’s sat quietly through breakdowns, joined sleepovers like a chaperone, kept me company on hospital beds, lay beside me through every fever and heartbreak, travelled on every holiday with me, and lived in four different houses with me. He survived A-Levels, sat in my backseat during my driving test, and has been with me through nearly an entire degree.
Still, when I mention that I sleep with three teddies, people sometimes raise an eyebrow. "Isn’t that a bit… childish?" they ask, as if seeking comfort is something we’re meant to outgrow.
"Isn’t that a bit… childish?" they ask, as if seeking comfort is something we’re meant to outgrow.
But here’s the thing: comfort doesn’t become less valid just because we turn twenty.
In fact, it seems like many of us are secretly on the same page. Just look at the explosion of Jellycats—those adorably floppy soft toys that are suddenly everywhere. Instagram and TikTok are full of teens and twenty-somethings showing off their growing collections. I have a collection myself, and adore my Jellycats who also join me in bed sometimes. Whether it’s the classic Bashful Bunny or the Amusable Avocado, people are embracing their inner child one teddy at a time.
And why shouldn’t we?
University life is full-on. Between deadlines, social pressure, money stress, and trying to figure out what the future even is, we need little moments of comfort. For some, it’s a cup of tea or a familiar playlist. For others, it’s a teddy bear with one ear slightly more loved than the other.
For some, it’s a cup of tea or a familiar playlist. For others, it’s a teddy bear with one ear slightly more loved than the other.
There’s also something grounding about having a Pig. In a world where everything feels like it’s always changing—friends, locations, your idea of who you are—Pig has never changed. He doesn’t care what I look like, how I’m doing, or whether I’ve sorted out what I am doing after University. He is just Pig.
So no, I don’t think sleeping with teddy bears at 20 is weird. I think it’s lovely. In a culture that constantly pushes us to grow up faster, be independent, and hide anything that might look “uncool,” holding onto something soft and familiar feels good. It says: I deserve comfort. I deserve to feel safe.
And if that comfort comes in the shape of a pink pig called Pig? Even better.