The first unofficial rule of owning a Happy Place is – Don’t tell anyone else about it.
Let them reap the benefits of what your happy place does for you, share your happy with them, but don’t share your happy place with them.
It doesn’t matter how trustworthy they are, how respectful, thoughtful… and if they take off their shoes before entering it so as not to bring their mud in with them.
This place is yours, your haven, and the moment you let someone else in, it will no longer do for you what it does. You have irrevocably changed the dynamics of it by letting someone else in.
Have other happy places which you’re happy to share with others… but always keep one secret silent Shangri-La all to yourself.
This is mine:
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I can show you a picture of it, in fact I share many images of it in my photographs and in what I write, as it is the place from which all is created within, and it pushes itself outwards wanting to be shared.
Sharing ourselves is a natural impulse.
An impulse which often leads to pain.
Pain is natural too. It’s part of living, being… we can’t get away from experiencing it as much as we all try to do so.
Sometimes we seek to evade our pain by taking refuge in the happy places of others… and sometimes we may destroy their happy place:
1 – accidentally, without intending to do so…
Q: What’s your favourite colour?
… someone asks
… maybe we asked it of someone else, to break the ice or perhaps because we were eager to share ours but we did it indirectly, the socially acceptable way.
A: Purple.
… a pause ensues.
What comes next will trespass on the sanctity of a favourite colour either through someone expressing their dislike for the colour or their love for it. Both can alter our love for that colour by subtly adding their own shades and hues to it. Once their colours run into ours… ours changes, and theirs does too.
2 – deliberately, intending to do so… some people’s happy place is ruining those of others.
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Most of us learn rule #1 of owning our happy place the hard way…
We are born with our arms open, exposing our hearts to the world, welcoming one and all to our happy place known as being alive, wanting to naturally share in the joy of life
… and we gradually learn to cross our arms, protect our hearts from the world, as we realise that welcoming others isn’t as easy as it seemed, we’re not as welcome as we thought we were, and being alive isn’t as happy a place as it felt at first… life can be a killjoy.
Our beautiful simplicity is seen as something to be used against us by those mired in complications… they’re caught in a tangled web and they drag us in when they try to use us to get themselves out.
Once we’re caught in the complex knots… we become the ones who pull others in while trying to pull ourselves out using them.
This is my favourite film… I said to someone.
If I could slow the moment down every nuance could be seen of what happened next.
The person who heard my confession of a film which was a happy place for me… the micro-expressions flitting across their face, turning a bored smile into a slight snicker. Their mind suddenly lulled out of apathy as their ego spotted an opportunity to stand on someone else’s head to gain some height.
It’s too simplistic… they said feeling rather good about being able to put something down with such a simple trick.
That’s why I like it, because it is simple… I replied, without adding the rest of the thought because sometimes it’s best to keep things simple.
This was the rest of the thought:
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Ah, the person’s ego probably thought, you like simple things because you have a simple mind. But I have a more evolved mind than you and therefore simplicity is tedium, I need everything to be too complicated for others to understand as that way I prove to myself that I am of superior intelligence.
Ah, I thought, you’re one of those who confuses intellect with intelligence, and who uses your superior intellect as a buffer, a protective boundary, a hard border which hides your soft insides.
You’re really a rather kindhearted soul, but life has battered your heart and now your arms are firmly crossed – none shall pass the tricky tests, the gauntlet which your mind has devised to stop people from getting into your happy place.
Stopping others from getting into your happy place has become a happy place.
How’s complicated intellectual complexity working out for you as a happy place?
Good? Good.
I’m good too with my simply being a simpleton simplicity.
We’re all good then. You in your happy place, and me in mine… what? You want to discuss the border issues of our respective places?
These are my boundaries:
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I know, they’re a bit of a strange shape. I can attempt to explain why, but I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to do so simply, it might get a bit complicated. Not sure if it’s your kind of complexity, but maybe it is.
I grew up with people who were afraid of simplicity, who complicated everything, who used intellect to protect themselves from the world of people around them who frightened them, and they confused their superior intellect with intelligence and passed that confusion on by gleefully poo-pooing the pleasures of others and then tediously explaining with interminable length, highfalutin words, and rigid adherence to strict guidelines of some master or another (those THEY that said something and now we all have to live by what THEY said) why that happy place of others just wasn’t allowed to be a happy place… especially if your happy place didn’t make them happy when they pushed their way in and tromped their muddy boots all over your happy.
We all do that a bit with the happy places of others.
We don’t mean to, but we do. Sometimes we’re so happy when someone lets us in… our enthusiasm makes us clumsy. And sharing is a balancing act that takes time to learn, and we learn more efficiently when we make mistakes. Errors are an erogenous zone for learning.
At times we mean to and so we do. Sometimes we’re just passing on what has been done to us, we can’t help ourselves so we help ourselves to what others have that someone else took from us while helping themselves because they couldn’t help themselves… compulsive taking due to the urge to own a happy place.
It’s a twisted version of sharing.
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I can’t share my secret silent Shangri-La with you. Even if I wanted to. It has a security system with lasers that disintegrate anyone who isn’t me. It’s funny that way.
However, I can share a version of it, the benefits and other aspects of it with you. I’m happy to do so on here… this is a reflection of my happy place.
You are all welcome here with open arms. Sometimes those arms flail, so be careful of accidental slaps occurring.
Take care of yourselves.
An Upturned Soul 
What a familiar experience..familiar as I have always been angry at myself for doing it and familiar as it reminds me of my mother.This is Paramount with Ns; it’s about trespassing boundaries and destroying the inner living landscape trnsformed then into a desert.It’s not merely letting one in but it’s about being invaded. What you say is true- we are born with drive towards sharing. Once someone said: But is it really necessary to share a happy or sad experience with another? is it really the same to go to a concert and love the music on your own or being there with someone you can share it with?
I think at the core,the essence doesn’t change, the primordial flame of what makes us alive can reach us on our own.But there is a different taste and aftertaste if shared.What you you reckon?Thank you for inviting me to focus on unusual questions as an inner happy place.So when I read you i had to look for my happy place…and found it, in spite of all the misery. xxx
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Thank you ❤
I watched an intriguing film last night – The Guitar (2008) – which only has a few characters in it with a simple story. It's a poetic film, so not much happens and yet everything happens in that nothing happening. It's about someone having a moment in time with themselves and indulging in their own being. The main character finds out that she only has a couple of months to live and she decides to create this solitary happy place for herself, which she ends up sharing it with a couple of others who happen to knock on her door and who are solitary in their own way. The sharing with others is part of the flow of her own experience and of theirs, and therefore has a natural rhythm.
It's a bit like a dance where sometimes the dancer dances alone and sometimes they dance with others, and it's all part of the whole dance. Alone then together, together then alone.
So, I think that if the sharing is part of the natural flow of an experience, then it enhances it, is in tune with it, is maybe even essential to it. However, if the sharing is forced, is done from a sense that it should be done, is expected, a duty, then it interrupts the natural flow like a piece of grit in the groove of a record.
Narcissists aren't in tune with their natural rhythms, therefore they're not in tune with the natural rhythms of life, of others, of being and doing from being. They're always forcing the sharing because they can't tell the difference between harmonious and discordant sharing.
When they want something, they want it and want it now. It never occurs to them to ask – is the time right to have this, does it want me… or any other of those questions which those in tune with the natural flow and rhythms ask.
I agree with the idea that it's not really necessary to share a sad or happy experience with others. We can share with ourselves, and enjoy the company of being with ourselves. Alone there's a sense of focus which isn't there with someone else. We don't need others in our lives for us to have a fulfilling life.
However, just because it is not necessary to share our experiences with others, doesn't mean we don't feel a necessity to do it. And just because we can enjoy a solo life, doesn't mean we don't also wish to live with another, have the company of another.
Life always has a certain duality about it. People who are alone sometimes long for company, and those who live with others sometimes long for solitude. When we dance alone we long for a dance partner, and when we have a dance partner we long to dance alone.
Each side of the equation has negatives, positives and neutral spaces in between – those moments when we are in between together and alone.
There are things which we need to do alone, and things which we prefer to do with others.
Certain pieces of music are intimate and need to be enjoyed alone, and some songs are better when wearing headphones, but a concerto needs a crowd to enjoy it together, for everyone's energy to merge with the sound and uplift everyone there together.
And you're never really alone at a concert. Even if you're the only one in the audience, the musicians are there, even if it is only a soloist.
It is different to share with another, the taste does change, sometimes it is sweeter, sometimes there is a bitter aftertaste. Sometimes it's umami 🙂
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Thank you for your welcome. 🙂
I agree with what seashell says. My mother frequently invaded my happy place(s) and often made me feel ashamed of them. There were times when she protected them, too, but this was unpredictable and depended on her mood and whether she had adjudged my happy place to be worthy. Eventually, of course, I wouldn’t share anything with her but felt very conflicted about my own value and voice. I had a lingering sense of shame and of being wrong about pretty much everything I chose to do on my own. This can still pop up sometimes.
Thanks. Good post. 🙂
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Thank you for accepting my welcome and visiting and sharing with me 🙂
That’s interesting about those moments when she protected your happy places. I wonder what it was about those ones which was different. I can’t think of any instance when my mother was protective of my happy places, unless I count those times she picked a fight with my father because he was the one being invasive and she was defending her territory and property (me). Not all of her invasiveness was cruel, many times it was the act of a needy, desperate and lonely child. She isolated herself and I was her only playmate. Narcissists do not make good playmates, they just never learn how to play well with others.
It’s true that things linger and pop up. I still have an incredibly hard time telling others what I really want and what really matters to me. I got so good at hiding the things I truly cared about that I often don’t know what they are myself. When I do know, it takes me an age to share that information with others, and when I do I often do it in a way which makes it seem like it doesn’t matter and I don’t care. Very irritating habit, especially as it confuses others who often end up being upset with themselves because they missed something important to me. It does have certain benefits, it makes me rethink my values on a regular basis.
Everything has a flip side to it… or maybe that’s just me. I’m a pancake. 😉
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I’m not sure what was up with that. I felt that in those cases, my happy places had her approval. She was incredibly judgemental and of course thought she was right about everything.
It’s interesting that you have a hard time telling others what you really want and what matters to you. I am also that way. I am working on that all the time – making myself say whatever it is so that I learn that it’s okay to do so, that wrath will not fall on my head. But you’re right, it got so that I didn’t really know my own mind in some cases. And yes, I ‘ve had people get irritated with me for the same reasons.
Wow. 🙂
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Since with N’s everything about others is all about them, and they tend to see themselves in their children, particularly when the child is the same gender. Often with their children they reenact their own childhood, with them in the role of their dominant parent and their child in the role of them as a child.
How they treat you is often a reenactment of how they were treated.
Much of it depends on what role you’ve been assigned by them, and where their attention is directed at the time. With my mother the roles I was most regularly given were as her mother, as a reflection of her child self, and sometimes I was her father or her husband. She never actually saw me as a person, so everything she did was her reliving some experience of her own, sometimes they were attempts to change her past through me. When she was kind or protective it was often due to what she had wanted for her own child self from the adults in her life. When she was particularly invasive it was often because she was trying to change her child self by changing me. Her behaviour towards me usually came with a story of hers attached which she often related to me.
Sometimes they switch roles with you, and you become their dominant parent while they become the child. Which is why sometimes they’re frightened of you.
They’re never really with you in the moment, there is almost always some past event being projected on the present, and that’s what they’re experiencing which is why time spent with them is so confusing. We can’t see what they’re seeing, what they’re reacting to, what battles they are fighting, all we see is us and them, but that’s not what they’re seeing. We keep shapeshifting in their eyes, which is why we see them as shapeshifting – one moment they see us as their parent, so they become a child, but in the next moment they might see us as child-them so they become their parent.
It’s one of the things which can make us not know our own mind because we were brought up in a world where our mind was irrelevant, we weren’t really there, who we were was always someone else to our N parent, and they decided what our mind was for us. Fighting their view of our mind was harder than just accepting to blank ourselves out, because they were very definite about who we were and what our mind was, and we were not allowed to argue with that. They always see themselves as the ultimate authority… and since we are living in their version of reality, I guess they are the boss of all the us’s that they turn us into.
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~ Why, does a single tear roll down my face every time I read your posts……. It’s like starring in to the sun. I LOVE IT it, heals me, warms me challenges me! But it burns and it stings… ( hurts zoo good) -then eyes closed,, ahhhh all better. (( I have followed you for a very very long time.. Yet always intimidate to write something as my prose fails in comparison )) Im fearful you’ll think Im a stalker if I write what I ” am really thinking ” I think you’ll think I’m a shut-in, weird-o, cling-on, self-help junkie, ….. etc. or like all the others wanting a ” piece of you “… So, I will stay silent… or slightly silent… And just bask in your sharing, your mind, your monkey, your heart, your temper, your dark passenger, your awakenings, YOURSELF. ……..
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Thank you very much 🙂
One of the best things I taught myself to do is to not worry about what others think about me. There’s a great quote about that… hang on, I’m just fetching it from the library (sounds of footsteps padding up a spiral staircase into a giant room filled from floor to ceiling with every book ever written)… a cup of tea, a scone (with Cornish clotted cream and homemade blueberry jam), and a rifle through some dusty books, with pauses to read something unrelated and get distracted by that and what it inspires, later… (sound of someone’s derriere sliding down a banister and once again knocking the vase off of the table at the bottom of it)… here it is:
“What people in the world think of you is really none of your business.” ― Martha Graham
We’re always going to worry a little about what impression others have of us, it’s part of being human, and it’s good to be concerned because it encourages us to be considerate and to be interested in the thoughts of others, however, if it hampers self expression then it’s not doing anyone, you or the other person, any favours.
And mostly when you’re worried about what someone else is thinking about you, they’re doing the same thing, worrying about what you’re thinking about them. We’re all a tiny bit obsessed with ourselves.
Being yourself is your gift, one which only you can share with the world. There is no one else in this world who is you, who can express as you do, feel, think, and be as you do. There really is no comparison between you and anyone else, but we all compare ourselves with others, it’s how we get to know ourselves and others. Your prose is your voice and that voice belongs to you, has a sound which vibrates to the music in you. When you share your voice, your voice shares itself with you.
When I write, I’m not writing, I’m just chatting (mostly with myself, as my posts are all the different parts of me interacting in conversation). It’s how I get to know myself better.
It’s up to you what you do, if you want to share what you’re really thinking, go ahead. Of course it involves a risk, every time we share ourselves there’s a risk to it… it can be thrilling in the fear it induces, it’s a gamble, how will the dice fall… what if we win something by doing it, sometimes winning is far more frightening than losing. Or what if nothing happens.
What if I don’t think you’re a stalker, a shut-in, weirdo, cling-on, self-help junkie, etc… are those things which you think about yourself? Do you want me to confirm that or deny it for you?
You do realise that you’ve described most people on the internet, including me, with those words 🙂 We all stalk our favourite bloggers, and we’re all certifiable introverts 😉
I don’t mind people wanting a piece of me if they share a piece of themselves with me, like swapping slices of cake, you try mine I try yours. I like the mutual flow. I only get frustrated with narcissists who want a piece of you, and another piece, and another piece, until they’ve eaten all of you and they’re complaining because all that’s left of you is a smattering of crumbs and they’re still hungry. They take and never give anything but grief in return.
You come across as really lovely, and if you’re kooky that’s a bonus. And from what you’ve shared of yourself, you’re feeling the highs and lows of life coursing through you like passion in the veins. Sometimes the fear and loneliness make your heart stop beating, but the drum begins again because life wants to be lived.
I know I can be scary, and I sometimes enjoy that because it’s good to remind people that you’re not a pushover if they mess with you. When people think I’m thinking awful things about them, I’m usually not. I’m well aware of the fact that everyone is multi-layered and it takes a long time to get to know someone, what we see on the surface is a small portion of everything they are, and we may only be seeing what we are projecting onto them of ourselves. So when we think of others, we may be thinking of ourselves.
I’m human. You’re human too. So is everyone else. It’s a messy thing being human.
You’re welcome here any time you want to share, feel free to share your thoughts. If you want to gush, go ahead. My feet are firmly planted on the ground, you won’t wash me away (I could be wrong about that…). If you’d rather stay silent, that’s fine too. No worries. 🙂
Take good care of yourself!
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ROLLING !!!! the windup to locating the quote was ” darling ” !! Okay, since you gave me permission to let my ” freak flag fly ” … I have a serious crush on you and ( I’m not Sleepless in Seattle.) When I read ( “listen” ) to your writings I hang on every word as if we had the same experience and it went right to my heart, up to my brain, and rolled right off my tongue. It’s simply impossible mathematically – it’s not just ” similar ” it’s a MIRROR and It’s completely fascinating. I do fear being judged here… but I’m sure you can see why… Here is this cyber stranger claiming to be a ” soul sister ” and jumping on your private train ensuing she too has an almost identical train. It’s just uncanny. When I log in to your your blogs I feel as Im being watched by some other power trying to f- with my head. They are toying with me as I read your posts, and they laugh as I look over my shoulder to see who’s watching me…..
Your prose is one to be shared at a larger scale. … It’s fast and witty, raw and precise but yet… you seamlessly allow room for the grey’s – Book Deal anyone !?!?!?
Truly, I thank you for your time here. I needed to share that. Just for the record… I have an N mom. I have an N husband. I never ever knew what an N was because it was cliche. Anyone who thought they were “cool” was called and N… back in my days… Until only maybe 7 months now have I learned and submerged myself into knowledge about the ” evil way” of the “N”. And I must say – just knowing who the enemy is has armed me better than any ~ Xanax, shrink, why me God book, noose in the shower, driving car off a cliff and must we lest forget the dreaded ” self loathing”!!!!! Knowing what they are and how they will behave is 75% of the problem. I don’t have to go around feeling like I was just molested in a van with shag carpet – and after I was given roses. When I hear the muffler on that van pull up the street! I am ready. And I will never be dragged into that shit shag shack ever ever again!
Your crush,
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Thank you very much 🙂
I’ve had quite a few meetings with souls who have a very similar experience of life and being as me since I’ve been sharing myself. It can be very uncanny, and the conversations can end up being full of OMG Me Too’s. It can be a bit mind-boggling, especially as we all tend to think we’re alone, going solo, no one else could possibly be like us, not the inner us anyway, and then you come across someone who has had an almost identical experience, not just on the surface but within. It can feel surreal and impossible, and there’s a slight twinge somewhere in there too as our individuality cracks a bit.
When I read Going Mad to Stay Sane by Andy White, I had a few intense moments of wondering if he’d somehow been studying my life and my parents. Those moments caused inner conflict because your intellect knows that’s not likely, but the rest of you is not so sure because this person is writing about you, your story, your inner experience. How can they do that without having somehow had access to you.
And when I first went online searching for information about N mothers, I came across a blog post wherein a woman was describing an interaction with her N mother which was almost exactly like an interaction with my mother. She also happened to have a partner like mine who wasn’t an N, had no experience of N’s previously and therefore was struggling to understand the whole child of N strangeness. I remember he wrote a post for her blog about his side of the experience and it helped me to understand what my partner was going through, how my parents were getting to him through me even though I’d gone NC from them.
Quite a lot of people have said to me – We have the same mother – that when I describe my mother, I’m describing theirs too.
The Narcissist parent influence can cause some astounding similarities. Not just because narcissists have similar traits, behaviours, patterns and the narcissistic wound seems to be the same no matter how different the people who have NPD are, but also because the effect which those similarities between narcissists have on others creates a similar reaction in people. If you’re the child of a narcissist many of your inner experiences will be similar to those of other children of narcissists. Our coping mechanisms are alike, and our psyches have been affected by the same issues.
That sense of being watched comes from growing up with an N parent, and since we both had N mothers when I write about that experience and how it has affected me, which I do even in posts not about NPD, it’s logical that there will be a parallel.
It is strange to find yourself in someone else, to discover your story in their story, and to be blown away by meeting a doppelganger of sorts. It’s also a natural and normal experience. I think it’s less rare than we assume that it is. In some ways our modern society is less in tune with the collective consciousness, with the interconnectedness of all beings, it is so focused on individuality and separateness, and we tend to feel disconnected form others so when we have a natural connection, it feels supernatural. However the internet is where we come together and find out how similar we all can be and are. It’s also easier to find our soul mates (as in souls like us) online, we can travel the world at the click of a button which is very cool.
I’m very glad you decided to go for it and share. How did it feel once you’d done it? I was so freaked out by myself when I first began sharing my thoughts and feelings online, I would want to delete it all and go into hiding, and I’d pick on myself for doing it… but then I’d do it again, and eventually the pleasure of it superseded the pain. I still sometimes have moments of wishing I hadn’t shared something, then I ask myself why and a new perspective opens up. The more you share yourself as you are, the more you meet those who are on the same wavelength. Which is a wonderful experience 🙂
I hope you’ll continue to share yourself when you feel the urge, at your own pace. It’s beautiful to release yourself!
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It blows me away how its like your mind goes a million thoughts per minute but you can so eloquently get through each second of them and tie them back together making sense all the time. Im glad you can because God knows i sure havent been able to for so long. Perhaps its because i stopped writing. Because of drugs , i thought it would help to write stuff out. Only to find myself going in circles though . When i would go back and read stuff i wrote, it was no more clear than when i wrote it and i would end up getting so annoyed and i just throw it all away. But when i read your blogs at first i get scared its like the same deep sea and deep thought, but you are able to bring light to the surface. Probably because your brain isnt fried like mine. Or perhaps mine just got buried in some grave.
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Thank you very much 🙂
My mind is often a mess. I’ve learned that if I don’t interfere with it, things have a way of falling into place and coming together. The mess is actually ordered chaos, but chaos which has a natural order rather than an enforced one. The conscious mind is always trying to tidy things up in an unnatural way.
Writing does help, especially if I don’t think when I write but just let the thoughts, associations, connections flow naturally. That’s why many of my posts are so long, twisty, and all over the place, takes me ages to get to the point. If I try to hurry it up, edit it, or make it shorter I lose the thread which unravels the knot.
Drugs worked for Hunter Thompson, and many creatives have used substances to unleash their inner flow. It can help to remove inhibitions and access the mind beyond the daily grind mind, free emotions, and float with feeling. A lot of classics were written under the influence. So I wouldn’t worry too much about the effect that drugs have had (I’m probably not supposed to say that).
These circles… are they really circles or are they spirals? And what is their axis? Perhaps the reason you’re going around in a circle is because the circle is showing you a centre which is important.
The mind tends to make sense once we stop trying to force it to make sense.
Try this exercise – Pick a subject, anything at all, then start writing about it, forget spelling, don’t edit as you write, don’t worry about cohesion, or sticking to a plan, an idea, just ramble. If you find it hard to write, feel blocked, blank, write about that, just write whatever your mind is thinking, if you want a snack, write that down, if you’re staring at a blank wall, write that, if your fingers are cold, write that, write everything, including how annoyed you may be that you can’t write, if you’re swearing at yourself, criticising yourself, write that. Just write whatever pops into the mind, all words are words, and all writing is writing.
What you’re writing doesn’t have to make any sense, be good, pretty, clever, and any other thing you might want it to be.
Write until you’re all written out. Then don’t read it, don’t try to read every word – skim it, and see what pops out, what catches your attention. Circle or underline everything which catches your attention when you skim it. Those things don’t have to be connected or make any sense. Perhaps it’s a spelling error or a word you kept using. A phrase. A sentence which makes you tingle. Something which frustrates. Don’t judge what stands out, not yet anyway.
Pick the things you’ve noticed for whatever reason and then make them the subject of another round of writing. If you’re judging what you’ve picked, unleash that judgment, write about it. Keep doing that until you’re no longer thinking about your writing, the words are just flowing freely with no thought attached. Keep doing it until you no longer read every word and aren’t trying to make sense of it through reading it word for word.
The part of you which you’re trying to access and bring to the surface works differently from the conscious mind, so it can’t be expressed in a linear manner. A fried brain actually finds it easier to tap into that part of consciousness, because the fried part is the conscious mind. The conscious mind sometimes inhibits the deeper levels, because the deeper levels don’t make sense to it so it shuts them down and out. Sometimes those deeper levels are pushing so hard to get out that it fries the conscious mind, or the conscious mind fries itself to stop them from getting out.
Maybe you could start with – fried mind – as a subject. See what flows.
My writing is really just me jotting down whatever is going on in my head. 🙂
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umami! i love it! have you ever read “The structure of Iki” by kuki Shuzo? Harmony seems then the result of five different elements, if one is missing, no iki!
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Hello Pisces,
your brain isn’t fried, it is still there, it was just a black patch you went through.
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I haven’t read the book, just looked him up, he sounds like a very intriguing man. I love the Japanese way of life and of approaching everything which is part of existence. Every detail is important, an essence of a whole. To know the whole each part of it must be explored and understood. 🙂
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