Vol. 3 - Feeding Time Feelings
Thoughts during feeding are not proper thoughts.
They are little floaty bubble thoughts. Soft and shiny. They drift up from the warmth and pop before they can turn into “problems.”
The Internal Monologue of a Puddled Prince:
Talking is too heavy. Being little is light.
Mummy’s voice sounds all soft and warm.
Blankie is needed for important structural reasons.
Why are my eyelids so heavy?
Harvey Hippo is watching. He looks judgmental, but he’s just guarding the snacks. Supportive.
Need a cuddle. No, a closer cuddle. No, I need to be medically inseparable from this hug.
One of the loveliest things about feeding time is how it makes the world smaller. Not scary small. Safe small. Cosy small. Like the Kingdom of Plushveria has pulled up the drawbridge and all the sharp Outside Things have been moved very far away.
Work emails. Money worries. Scary future stuff. That annoying “be sensible” voice that wants me to make five big decisions before lunch.
In Feeding Space, there is only:
Cosy. Sucky. Sleepy. Held.
The Great Browser Shutdown
My brain usually behaves like a laptop with 97 tabs open and a mystery song playing from somewhere. But as I settle, the tabs start clicking shut:
Tab 1: Money panic. Closed.
Tab 2: Am I being annoying? Closed.
Tab 3: The thought that everyone secretly hates me. Closed.
Tab 4: What if I am doing life wrong? Force Quit.
Tab 5: Dinosaurs. Kept open. Core system file. Obviously.
The Permission of the Soft Start
I think I crave the permission inside feeding more than anything. Permission to be quiet. Permission to be helped. Permission to be smaller than my problems for once.
Grown up Oli is clever. He can analyse and worry until his brain is just mashed potato with anxiety sprinkles.
But Little Oli doesn’t want to analyse.
He wants to be tucked in.
He wants to blink slowly and hold a plushie.
He wants every complicated adult thought to fall down a well.
With glow stars on the walls.
And then there is the deepest softness. The one I get shy about because it feels so big and scary soft.
Nursing. Breastfeeding. The close close.
Whatever words people use, for me it sits in that same soft place as bottles, nappies and blankies. It’s the thing I think about when my brain has gone all buzzy and too big.
It isn’t just about milk.
It’s about the heartbeat like a lullaby.
It scares me to ask for it, because it feels like asking someone to love the most fragile, babyish bit of me. The bit that doesn’t want to pretend it’s okay. The bit that just wants to be cradled, chosen, and wanted.
I think part of why nursing means so much is because I didn’t get that soft start. Being taken away from my birth mummy right at the beginning left a tiny quiet ache for the kind of warm close close love I never had. That first “you belong here.”
So when I think about bottles, or nursing, or being held tight, it isn’t just a kink thing.
It’s some tiny part of me finally whispering:
I didn’t just want to be fed.
I wanted to be someone’s baby.
I wanted to be held like I mattered.
Feeding isn’t just a moment. It’s a language.
The bottle says: “You can be little now.”
The nursing says: “You can be close now.”
Both say: “You don’t have to hold the world up by yourself anymore.”
And honestly? That is dangerous information for my brain.
Because the second I feel that, I click into Tiny Mode.
There is a secret language in the settling. The little hand squeezes. The soft crinkle of being padded and safe. The way the praise lands somewhere much smaller than my grown up ears.
Tiny Prince has stopped working.
Please reboot with cuddles.
I might pretend I am a dignified, independent prince.
Absolutely not one soft voice away from becoming a puddle.
But if someone strokes my hair while I’m fed?
If they let me nurse and tell me I’m safe?
I am legally no longer responsible for having bones.
Royal, moon charged, protected by decree pudding.
> Harvey Hippo’s Official Decree:
Bottle / nursing status: Required immediately.
Prince status: Very blushy and melty.
Mummy status: Heart full of softness.
Softness levels: Dangerously high.
(Dinosaur tab remains open in background.)
titsay
romaincrisis
yousharknotpass
snowghoul
kaledo-art
