#maultism

When I was a teenager, I used to have a best friend. See, he was a little husky plushie that I had named Tofu. A birthday gift from someone who, at the time, was very special for me, and the very same person that took him from me.

Ever since I was a child, I've had strong bonds with objects. Especially stuffed animals. Something about them made me feel understood in a way nothing else could, and I have plenty of memories about late-night long conversations I'd have with my favorite plushies. There was never a single time, in all of my life, that I have not slept with a stuffed animal in my arms – to the point where I actively couldn't (still can't) sleep if I wasn't holding something.

A lot of trauma came from it, too. Having my plushies forcefully taken away as a child because "you have too many" or "you're already too grown up" actively harmed me in a very psychological sense. I became skittish and fearful, much like an aggressive and reactive dog protects a bowl of food or a bone.

For me, those objects were the only things that were considered friends. I had none other, just them.

So, when Tofu came to my life, I quickly became obsessed with him. It is definitely sweet, nowadays, to watch the content that kids, teens and adults make in the ESSA community, because those things match so well with my own experiences with Tofu. For me, he was simply a dog, a friend and a companion – I'd buy him a lot of gear, collars, clothes, harnesses and other things. I've had family friends spook when they saw him on my lap and say "for a minute here I thought that was a real dog". He was my world, back then, and losing him was much like losing a pet or a friend.

The comments were very harsh. "Too much", they would say. "You like that thing more than you like me". It hurt, especially as an autistic person that was already struggling so much with showing affection in the "right way", whatever the hell that would be. I felt pressured, judged and belittled because of my bond, and all of that (with a bonus of bad relationship stuff) broke everything I once had with my best friend, my Tofu.

I grieved him. I felt empty, and desperately needed to fill that void with something, anything. From bad coping mechanisms to other plushies that I tried so hard to bond with the same way, everything failed until I was forced to face the reality that, maybe, I didn't have it in me anymore.

I believed it to be gone. But recently I was proven wrong, at last, and it is quite the surprise.

It is hardly the same, and probably nothing will feel exactly as it did with Tofu. I was younger, back then, I was a teenager who was going through a lot. As an adult, this new bond with Maul is something else entirely. Although past trauma still tugs at my brain in all the wrong ways, this feels less skittish than my past experiences.

Perhaps even badly socialized dogs become more confident in their paws once they've grown. Or perhaps I am less ridden with guilt by my drive to bite. Either way...