These three old bears are the beginning of an addiction I developed perhaps 20 years after I was given the first one. Shortly after I began earning my own money, I started collecting Steiff bears. When I married, I stopped because it was an expensive hobby.
After I left my ex, I started again only this time I had discovered one-of-a-kind artist bears (the last four in my collection are picture below). Then bipolar mania hit. I came across Boyd’s collectibles, and I had to own every damn one in every collection. Fortunately, I somehow came to my senses before going completely bankrupt.
My living room ended up being a daily reminder of my manic behavior. I was happy to pack them up and leave them in storage when I moved in with my husband. I had grand plans of listing them on eBay and raking in the profits. The prospect of how much work that would entail was daunting, so I decided to sell them through a local auction house. I didn’t think about something very important – the key word here is “local.” In rural southern Ohio, bear collecting is not a high priority. When I finally gathered the courage to look at the auction online yesterday (it ends today), I was dismayed to see that the bids were all barely 1/10 of the value of each piece. Now take into consideration that the auction house takes 25% (they deserved that), and I had just made a very costly decision which caused me to lose a potentially large profit.
But, and finally here’s my point, when put in to the perspective of how much I would pay to cleanse my mind of this constant reminder of one of the worst aspects of my disorder, I believe it was quite a bargain. So I’ll take the money without grumbling and treat my husband to dinner at McDonald’s.