my worry dolls
These are my worry dolls. I have had them since I was quite small. Or not really small but I have had them for about 18 years and have kept them by my bed all around the world. Once I lost them but then I found them again, in a whole new continent. I’d like to say the worries went the day the dolls resurfaced, but that would be a lie. The looming things did seem a bit more palatable, though.
In my time I have lost diamond rings and all manner of things you might call valuable. Although temporarily mislaid, I have never lost a worry doll.
Without the bag in this photo, you’d have no sense of scale. They might be massive. Totems in a snowstorm (actually it’s the bench in my bathroom and they are tiny). The mucky threads probably give the game away, though.
I suppose they are the opposite of voodoo dolls. And when I think of some of the worries I have bestowed on them in my time it makes me a bit sad, and sort of self-aware. Like looking back on a photo of your old self in a really bad outfit. But then realising you’d probably wear the same outfit all over again because that’s just who you are. Or realising you’re still wearing it. That you never took it off; you only thought you did.
My now worries seem more substantial than my then worries. But that’s a matter of time and perspective (rather than of true scale, speaking of scale).
Filed under: absolution, daytoday, perspective | 1 Comment
Tags: diary, private, rituals, things I like, worry dolls