Sometimes, I ask ChatGPT to tell me things, like “Did anything significant happen on September 9th?” Sometimes, ChatGPT gives me exactly what I’m looking for. Other times, it’ll offer so much or insufficient information that I give it an eye-roll and scroll on. But today, two things stood out that are worth writing about.
First, today is National Teddy Bear Day, in honor of the stuffed animal named after President Teddy Roosevelt. In 1902, during a hunting trip in Mississippi, Roosevelt famously refused to shoot a bear captured and tied to a tree by his assistants. This compassionate act inspired a political cartoon by Clifford Berryman, which gained widespread attention. The story behind the cartoon reached a New York shop owner, Morris Michtom, who saw the opportunity to create a stuffed bear toy. He called it the “Teddy Bear” in honor of Roosevelt. Roosevelt eventually permitted Michtom to use his name, and the teddy bear became a hit, leading to the widespread popularity of the stuffed toy.
I don’t remember a teddy bear from childhood, but I did have one of those sock monkeys to snuggle with. When it comes to toys, I preferred action figures—GI Joes, He-Man, and, of course, WWF wrestlers. All my action figures became wrestlers, whether designed that way or not. I had different divisions based on the size of the toy. I had elaborate backstories; some of them reflected the story given to them by their respective toy companies. But other times, I invented histories and relationships for them. And even now, I have a giant bucket of action figures next to my bed. Many of them are the same characters I played with as a kid, transferred onto new bodies but with the same extensive histories, backstories, and signature moves.
I’ve always been comforted by these guys and the fantasy world I was able to create for them to exist in. I could pull out any of my figures and tell you more information about them than you’d ever want to know, almost all of it from my imagination. While I don’t sleep with them (unlike Teddy Bears, they have sharp edges and aren’t comforting in the way a stuffed animal would be), I do find that on those lonely Sunday afternoons, I will set up a wrestling card and let them live a little more.
I often say this in counseling sessions: “There’s nothing worse than an anxious person with an imagination.” We invent worst-case scenarios, go down hare-y rabbit holes (get it?), and self-destruct through our what-ifs. Unfortunately, that same imagination can sometimes be a breeding ground for anxiety. I've seen it in myself and in those I work with as a therapist—how an untamed imagination can create false narratives and lead us down paths of fear. But when one can harness their imagination, the world changes.
Today, in 1971, John Lennon’s song Imagine was released. It’s a classic song, despite how I was taught to think of it growing up. (Anyone else told that Lennon’s ideology was anti-Christian? “I mean, imagine there’s no heaven” is a pretty shocking thing to consider when your only goal in life is to do everything you need to to go there . . .) But as I got older, I began to understand that Lennon wasn’t asking us to reject faith but to consider a world without divisions.
In 2004, Rolling Stone magazine ranked Imagine #3 on its list of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time. It is often described as a Utopian anthem, asking us to envision a world without war, greed, or borders. It’s idealistic, no doubt, but it’s also a profound reminder of the power of imagination. Where some might see impossibility, Lennon challenges us to consider what the world could be like if we let go of the things that divide us.
This got me thinking about the dual nature of imagination—how it can both elevate and destroy. As a kid, my imagination was the birthplace of entire universes filled with heroes and villains, elaborate storylines, and battles for justice. I could spend hours in my own world, directing the action and creating intricate connections between my action figures. That imagination brought me joy, comfort, and escape.
But as an adult, that same imagination can sometimes be a breeding ground for anxiety. When left unchecked, it’s easy to spiral into endless what-ifs—letting fear and worry drive the storylines in my head instead of joy and creativity. Instead of dreaming up new possibilities, I sometimes find myself stuck imagining worst-case scenarios, worrying about things that may never happen.
Maybe that’s why Imagine resonates more with me now than when I first heard it. It’s not just about picturing a perfect world; it’s about recognizing the power of our thoughts. Our imagination shapes the way we see the world, whether through a lens of hope or fear. Lennon’s song invites us to imagine a better world and a better way of thinking.
So today, on September 9th, as I think about teddy bears and action figures, I’m also thinking about the balance between fantasy and reality, between fear and hope. What we imagine—whether in our play or our daily lives—can make all the difference.
This content is for educational and entertainment purposes and is not the same as therapy. If you need to talk to someone, go to PsychologyToday.com or one of the many online therapy platforms available and start treatment with a professional today!
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