When I was a child I had raggedy Ann and Andy dolls, soft dolls I kept on my bed always, and in bed with me at night.
I don’t recall playing with them much, but I recall caring for them at night.
I would make more room for those two dolls in my childhood single bed than I’d leave for myself in any aspect of life. I’d try to stay stone still so not to disturb them or lay on them or take up their space.
This may seem sweet, and frankly, I’d think so if I saw a little girl do it once or twice. It was an every night thing that I made more room for these two 12ish inch dolls in my bed than I did for myself.
This was part of my core family training, to assure the safety of and give space to two stuffed toys above my own comfort and safety.
As I unlearn that harmful behavior, I find it easier to set boundaries whether I claim them out loud or set them as a newly integrated gift of care toward myself unspoken but reinforced when and where needed.
To remembering. To changing. To learning.