I’m totally the same way! Especially if an object is anthropomorphized in some way. This frozen yogurt place I went to had spoons that were printed with “My journey is just beginning. Recycle me.” I COULDN’T throw them away. I don’t know if they survived the purge that went along with moving to our new house, but wherever they are, I hope they’re thriving.
That makes me wonder if hoarders and people who lean in that direction are more likely to have these kinds of feelings about objects.
For myself, the only example that I can think of is that when I was a kid, I used to treat my right foot more favorably than my left foot. I would dry it first when I was done with a bath and I would let it ride on the shopping cart while my left foot had to push.
The song could have been “de colores,” which includes the line “los polluelos, con el pio pio pio pio pi”, meaning “the chicks, with their cheep cheep cheep cheep”.
How interesting! I have words that make me feel bothered, to the point that I get a physical shivery reaction if someone says them out loud. I can’t even bring myself to type them. Okay fine, I’ll tell you one: funky. (Shivers)
Did you ever read "Owl At Home" by Arnold Lobel? Owl gets sad and cries about pencils that are too short to use, and songs no one can sing because the words have been forgotten.
I wasn't aware that this could be linked to ADHD; I have ADHD and I've felt sad for objects my whole life. I thought maybe I'd just seen "Toy Story" too may times an an impressionable age!
I feel sad for objects that are alone at night, still, since I was a kid I put things on the bathroom sink together so they can “talk” to each other — toothbrushes, bottles, soap, hairbrushes. As a kid I hated shoes in the floor by themselves, but my mother convinced me they were boats at night and sailed here and there on adventures. Elephants and horses are unutterably sad words to me. As well as movies or books about either of them. Yet I love them the most.
And let us not forget knives are the bad guys in the drawer, forks are young and heroic, and women are spoons, obviously. I won’t let knives be next to spoons in the drawer — unless they are large serving spoons (I.e. Big Women!). This is also is from my childhood, but seems to persist, and makes household chores more fun, than sad.
This reminds me of a Regina Spektor song, All the Rowboats - that's actually the only time I've ever felt sorry for an (imaginary) object. In this case for both the titular rowboats and the violins that have "forgotten how to sing" (because they're stuck in "glass coffins" in a museum) :((
I was thinking about Synesthesia as I read this article and then you mentioned it at the end. I have found that when I see puky yellow colors I both see and smell mucus. Certain words make me feel weird emotions - sometimes positive and sometimes negative.
I've never felt sorry for a word, but I did as a child feel terrible for unworn clothes, unplayed with toys, and unpicked ice cream flavors (butterscotch is so sad that I ordered strawberry).
I always thought I felt this way because I was raised in a heavily guilt-based culture and religion. "Jesus is crying right now because you're watching TV instead of reading the Bible" was something that was drilled into me as a Southern Baptist kid. But perhaps I have an innate neurotypical thing that is part of this too - perhaps related to Synesthesia.
I'm glad that you mentioned synesthesia. I had never heard of this until my daughter introduced it to me (not by name, but practice) when she was about 10. She thought that everyone saw numbers colored, sorry I don't remember the correlations. Numbers had characters, as well. They had magical properties. I know that for a time this was important in her early OCD, counting to certain numbers.
I'm wondering now whether what we are talking about here, objects being personified, whether that's related to a more general capability.
I'll give you an example. Dating myself, I grew up in the 50's. At the time, I could go to the movies on a weekend for a nickel. All the rage at the time, were B-rated science fiction movies. I'm telling you this because it may help explain an attitude I had. Coming home from basketball at night on empty streets, I was really afraid that some alien was going to jump out from the shadows.
Now, here's the point I'm trying to get to. I've always had trouble falling asleep, and it began at a very early age. First, there was the mirror in our room that covered the door that went up into the attic. That was surely scary enough. But then there was this being awake, trying to go to sleep. I feared that someone (no idea who) was trying to get me (yeah, up on the second floor - I even had an escape route planned) and here's the worst part: I was afraid that by thinking about this someone, and being afraid of him (it had to be a him), was like a beacon of light, telling this someone where I was and how to get me.
Now, my daughter (33) has a similar magical perception. She believes that there are these people, who she is afraid to name (I don't know if she really can), that can perceive her thoughts, and that when she has contrary thoughts, she is afraid they will know. So, she has to continually monitor her thoughts, and feels like she is at risk in open opposition to them.
What I'm trying to do here is to suggest that this personalizing objects is an imaginative projection. And all the examples give here can be "cute," if I can say so (I love the spoons being women). But there can a darker side. When once we enchant the world, here what we call "objects," me and my daughter with something like "disembodied spirits," or worse "demons," the world changes, and changes radically from our modern disenchanted (and I might add boring) world.
Now my daughter "has" OCD, if one can really have something like that. After all, it is merely a descriptions of symptoms. It's like being "neurodivergent." It's not like having a broken arm. When I busted my wrist playing basketball, having landed the full weight of all my body on it, bones sticking out and the wrist bent into a "U" shape. Now, that is "divergent." Everyone can see it. Can we point to anything, "There it is" that says there's the OCD? No, we can't. Why isn't it just having a certain personality. Why blame this few pound invisible organ located between our ears. It's the way she is, just like everyone else is. What's "divergent" is that everyone will ask all sorts of questions like "Why is she doing that, no one else does?"
I have perhaps a related syndrome. Sometimes when I’m very frustrated, I will curse at some inanimate object, like a door which won’t close, as if a strong lecture is going to make it behave better the next time. When my wife hears me cursing she asks why and I tell her I’m talking to the door.
I thought everyone does this: to personify objects that "frustrate" our intentions. There's this one instance that my children often remind me of. I was outside cutting rebar without a vice, so the rebar would roll, making it difficult to cut. It began to rain. Where we lived high in the mountains, when it rained, it really rained. We were one of lightning capitals of the world. So, first there's rain, then thunder, but I refused to come indoors, so intent am I defeat the demon rebar, yelling at it, the rain pouring down all around me. My kids thought I had gone nuts, and for a while, I probably was.
I don’t have a profound degree of this or anything- but the word “abbatoir” makes me emotionally recoil (perhaps for good reason). This in spite of the fact that I’m not vegetarian or anything.
As a parent, I could see "Look at this- you got tea all over Buzz" as being genuinely sad (are there any objects more anthropomorphized than the _toys from Toy Story_?) resulting in involuntary laughter or actually just being hilarious...I think two meaningful things that happen in parenthood are (1) sometimes being transported back to our own childhood perspective when witnessing our kids situations and (2) sometimes getting enough perspective on a situation as it happens to see how absurd it is.
I’m totally the same way! Especially if an object is anthropomorphized in some way. This frozen yogurt place I went to had spoons that were printed with “My journey is just beginning. Recycle me.” I COULDN’T throw them away. I don’t know if they survived the purge that went along with moving to our new house, but wherever they are, I hope they’re thriving.
That makes me wonder if hoarders and people who lean in that direction are more likely to have these kinds of feelings about objects.
For myself, the only example that I can think of is that when I was a kid, I used to treat my right foot more favorably than my left foot. I would dry it first when I was done with a bath and I would let it ride on the shopping cart while my left foot had to push.
The song could have been “de colores,” which includes the line “los polluelos, con el pio pio pio pio pi”, meaning “the chicks, with their cheep cheep cheep cheep”.
YES IT WAS
How interesting! I have words that make me feel bothered, to the point that I get a physical shivery reaction if someone says them out loud. I can’t even bring myself to type them. Okay fine, I’ll tell you one: funky. (Shivers)
Did you ever read "Owl At Home" by Arnold Lobel? Owl gets sad and cries about pencils that are too short to use, and songs no one can sing because the words have been forgotten.
I wasn't aware that this could be linked to ADHD; I have ADHD and I've felt sad for objects my whole life. I thought maybe I'd just seen "Toy Story" too may times an an impressionable age!
I feel sad for objects that are alone at night, still, since I was a kid I put things on the bathroom sink together so they can “talk” to each other — toothbrushes, bottles, soap, hairbrushes. As a kid I hated shoes in the floor by themselves, but my mother convinced me they were boats at night and sailed here and there on adventures. Elephants and horses are unutterably sad words to me. As well as movies or books about either of them. Yet I love them the most.
And let us not forget knives are the bad guys in the drawer, forks are young and heroic, and women are spoons, obviously. I won’t let knives be next to spoons in the drawer — unless they are large serving spoons (I.e. Big Women!). This is also is from my childhood, but seems to persist, and makes household chores more fun, than sad.
I sometimes got sad about objects left outside at night because they would get cold.
This reminds me of a Regina Spektor song, All the Rowboats - that's actually the only time I've ever felt sorry for an (imaginary) object. In this case for both the titular rowboats and the violins that have "forgotten how to sing" (because they're stuck in "glass coffins" in a museum) :((
Musical instruments forgetting how to sing is sad. :(
I was thinking about Synesthesia as I read this article and then you mentioned it at the end. I have found that when I see puky yellow colors I both see and smell mucus. Certain words make me feel weird emotions - sometimes positive and sometimes negative.
I've never felt sorry for a word, but I did as a child feel terrible for unworn clothes, unplayed with toys, and unpicked ice cream flavors (butterscotch is so sad that I ordered strawberry).
I always thought I felt this way because I was raised in a heavily guilt-based culture and religion. "Jesus is crying right now because you're watching TV instead of reading the Bible" was something that was drilled into me as a Southern Baptist kid. But perhaps I have an innate neurotypical thing that is part of this too - perhaps related to Synesthesia.
I'm glad that you mentioned synesthesia. I had never heard of this until my daughter introduced it to me (not by name, but practice) when she was about 10. She thought that everyone saw numbers colored, sorry I don't remember the correlations. Numbers had characters, as well. They had magical properties. I know that for a time this was important in her early OCD, counting to certain numbers.
I'm wondering now whether what we are talking about here, objects being personified, whether that's related to a more general capability.
I'll give you an example. Dating myself, I grew up in the 50's. At the time, I could go to the movies on a weekend for a nickel. All the rage at the time, were B-rated science fiction movies. I'm telling you this because it may help explain an attitude I had. Coming home from basketball at night on empty streets, I was really afraid that some alien was going to jump out from the shadows.
Now, here's the point I'm trying to get to. I've always had trouble falling asleep, and it began at a very early age. First, there was the mirror in our room that covered the door that went up into the attic. That was surely scary enough. But then there was this being awake, trying to go to sleep. I feared that someone (no idea who) was trying to get me (yeah, up on the second floor - I even had an escape route planned) and here's the worst part: I was afraid that by thinking about this someone, and being afraid of him (it had to be a him), was like a beacon of light, telling this someone where I was and how to get me.
Now, my daughter (33) has a similar magical perception. She believes that there are these people, who she is afraid to name (I don't know if she really can), that can perceive her thoughts, and that when she has contrary thoughts, she is afraid they will know. So, she has to continually monitor her thoughts, and feels like she is at risk in open opposition to them.
What I'm trying to do here is to suggest that this personalizing objects is an imaginative projection. And all the examples give here can be "cute," if I can say so (I love the spoons being women). But there can a darker side. When once we enchant the world, here what we call "objects," me and my daughter with something like "disembodied spirits," or worse "demons," the world changes, and changes radically from our modern disenchanted (and I might add boring) world.
Now my daughter "has" OCD, if one can really have something like that. After all, it is merely a descriptions of symptoms. It's like being "neurodivergent." It's not like having a broken arm. When I busted my wrist playing basketball, having landed the full weight of all my body on it, bones sticking out and the wrist bent into a "U" shape. Now, that is "divergent." Everyone can see it. Can we point to anything, "There it is" that says there's the OCD? No, we can't. Why isn't it just having a certain personality. Why blame this few pound invisible organ located between our ears. It's the way she is, just like everyone else is. What's "divergent" is that everyone will ask all sorts of questions like "Why is she doing that, no one else does?"
I have perhaps a related syndrome. Sometimes when I’m very frustrated, I will curse at some inanimate object, like a door which won’t close, as if a strong lecture is going to make it behave better the next time. When my wife hears me cursing she asks why and I tell her I’m talking to the door.
I thought everyone does this: to personify objects that "frustrate" our intentions. There's this one instance that my children often remind me of. I was outside cutting rebar without a vice, so the rebar would roll, making it difficult to cut. It began to rain. Where we lived high in the mountains, when it rained, it really rained. We were one of lightning capitals of the world. So, first there's rain, then thunder, but I refused to come indoors, so intent am I defeat the demon rebar, yelling at it, the rain pouring down all around me. My kids thought I had gone nuts, and for a while, I probably was.
I don’t have a profound degree of this or anything- but the word “abbatoir” makes me emotionally recoil (perhaps for good reason). This in spite of the fact that I’m not vegetarian or anything.
As a kid I used to feel this way! The "sad for food I didn't order at restaurants" line brought back major memories.
Getting new toys was also bitter sweet because not every toy could "win." I also tried to play with all my toys in a somewhat balanced way.
I feel this way much, much less strongly than I used to.
I'm not sure I had a particular set of "sad words".
As a parent, I could see "Look at this- you got tea all over Buzz" as being genuinely sad (are there any objects more anthropomorphized than the _toys from Toy Story_?) resulting in involuntary laughter or actually just being hilarious...I think two meaningful things that happen in parenthood are (1) sometimes being transported back to our own childhood perspective when witnessing our kids situations and (2) sometimes getting enough perspective on a situation as it happens to see how absurd it is.