Nov 7, 2011 / Topic Ideas

Did you have a secret hiding place?

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  3. This is what I have done all my life. The hiding secret place was my heart. My heart is burdened with all secrets, the burden increased and few secrets faded in the history; do not remember them since can feel that something has gone wrong.

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  8. bueno cuando era niño tenia una casa pequeña de madera a la cual iba cuando me sentía triste, no era secreta pero ahí podía estar sin que me fueran a buscar o algo parecido.

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  9. I built a wannabe treehouse as a kid. I went there to be alone, write poetry, or read books. I was a philosophical child… times changed. Now I’m a philosophical adult.

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  10. there was a tree at my school that was wonderfully big – you could either sit in it or if it was dry you could nestle under it for hours reading and no-one could see you from the outside – spent many hours there trying to avoid going “home”. Even packed my bags once and camped there on a saturday. Have visited the school since then and seen “my tree”

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  13. With 5 brothers and sisters, I had to find a place to hide. We moved often. I laid claim to each attic as my “room.” I received little fight over the hottest place in the summer, coldest place in the winter, darkest place at night and loneliest place during the day. With a little fabric, a few planks of wood over the rafters, brightly colored curtains, old mattress and boxes for tables, I had my private living quarters. I read books, wrote stories and dreamed my happiest dreams. Though I wasn’t really hiding, I enjoyed my quiet spot where my siblings seldom looked. Read more on my blog.

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    1. oh gosh—- I love them too… use too sit in front of the tv on saturdays, and watch old movies and eat almost a whole bag….you know what ? — I probably still can…hehehe : )

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  15. Yes! I used to love corners… I would hide inside closets, showers… that were at the very last corner anywhere i was: My house, my grandfather’s, our summer home… And i had cousin Laura that would hide with me and we would eat condensed sweet milk with our fingers right from the can.

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  16. gosh— the best hiding spot that I had was a closet at my aunt and uncles…..we played hide-n-seek one day, and one of my cuousins hid me there, it was great! to here the other person going around looking for everyone…finding them all but me…about an hour later had to come out—it was a bathroom call that did it…The look of amazment on their faces was priceless, still remember that day…it was so neat,,,then had to help my auntie put away all the sheets and towels that we had moved just to make room for me. Ii looked in that closet a few years ago—-shook my head in amazment…I could not belive that “I” actually fit in there. : )

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  17. Once, as a teen, I hid my journal just before I went on vacation with my parents. I hid it so well that I forgot where I hid it. It was about a year later when I rediscovered it. Lame, but true.

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  19. Yes and yes. As a child, it was my mattress. As a teen now, it’s still my mattress, but I also have a second one: my bra.

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  20. The place that I liked to hide when I was a child was underneath the house. Our house was set on pillars and the front part was up a lot higher than the back to level it . I would go under neath it and no one would bother me. When I grew up and got married and raising six children I could not find a hiding place that they didn’t find me in. I gave up trying. Now that they are all grown up and no longer home I don’t have any need to find a hiding place.

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  24. With the number of houses I have lived in and the amount my family moved, the only hiding place was in books and with people.

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  25. FRESHLY PRESSED
    I do have a hiding place. And this hiding place is so well-hidden that most times I can’t even find it myself, never mind the goodies I hide in it.
    This is both a good and a bad thing. It’s good because, well, it’s hidden. And it’s bad because what I hide in it are things that perhaps should not be hidden. Sometimes.
    The hiding place is in my mind.
    This is where I hide my shadow. This is where I put all the thoughts and feelings I am ashamed of. This is also where I put the things I am unable to deal with in that moment that, hopefully, I will take out when I am feeling less vulnerable and can deal with them.
    I suppose I could give this hiding place a name. I think I’ll name it denial. I am very experienced in the field of denial. I am an expert at denial, as star. I have one of the highest qualifications in denial.
    I am especially good at putting feelings of sadness in the hiding spot. And also anger, anger finds its way to denial very easily. I don’t have to go to all the effort of finding it, folding it up neatly and putting it away. No! Anger makes its own relentless way to the hiding place. It’s very good that way. Not much effort required from me. Because I’m lazy you see.
    And the awareness of laziness also seems to slip away to hide in that box. I mean, I do help it a little, but really, it’s up to it to do the work of finding its way there. I shouldn’t have to creak into action and go to the effort. No, that’s laziness’ job. Not mine.
    I also find that arrogance boldly strides into the box of denial, throws open the lid, stomps int, flings itself into a chair to swiftly take over and dominate whoever else may be finding respite there.
    And then there’s co-dependence who masquerades as humility. It will wait meekly at the box, waiting quietly for arrogance to make its entry so it can sneak unobtrusively in behind. Co-dependence will slip into the smallest, most uncomfortable chair so that everyone else is comfortable and happy and won’t rock the box with conflict. So that everyone can get along… please.
    Then there’s the manipulating bitch. This one has given the key to co-dependence so no one will realise it also uses the box. This is the one who’ll hang around at the entrance, pick up the best-looking tenant and get him to open the door for her, kick laziness out of the comfy chair and settle the bitch with a drink and a footstool, making sure that her every whim is attended to.
    Which brings me back to me. If I want to live a decent, happy and fulfilled life I have to regularly visit the box, most often uninvited. I have to prise off the lid, shake it about and see who falls out first. Pick the shameful feeling up, dust it off and bring it back in to the light. Work gently and kindly with whoever it is. Negotiate with it. Listen to it and actually hear it. Allow it expression and individuality without judgement or scorn.
    The biggest challenge in dealing with denial is to let it know that it’s OK. It will not really be that bad to examine the contents. I don’t need to smash to box to pieces. I don’t need to stomp on it in rage and shame for being what it is. I need to let it know that it is a mechanism that does work and does have its place. I need to know that I will open the box with ease when I use the key of compassion to open it so the twirling ballerina can be free to dance in the light of my love, understanding and acceptance.
    Then I can put the box in my mantelpiece, open it at will – either to put things away or take them out. The box won’t disappear but nor do I have to hide it in dark places. It’s allowed to be a part of the decoration in my home that I am slowly building up with awareness and honour.
    There are many, many visitors there who come and go. And that’s just the way it is.

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  26. SECRET HIDING PLACE
    I do have a hiding place. And this hiding place is so well-hidden that most times I can’t even find it myself, never mind the goodies I hide in it.
    This is both a good and a bad thing. It’s good because, well, it’s hidden. And it’s bad because what I hide in it are things that perhaps should not be hidden. Sometimes.
    The hiding place is in my mind.
    This is where I hide my shadow. This is where I put all the thoughts and feelings I am ashamed of. This is also where I put the things I am unable to deal with in that moment that, hopefully, I will take out when I am feeling less vulnerable and can deal with them.
    I suppose I could give this hiding place a name. I think I’ll name it denial. I am very experienced in the field of denial. I am an expert at denial, as star. I have one of the highest qualifications in denial.
    I am especially good at putting feelings of sadness in the hiding spot. And also anger, anger finds its way to denial very easily. I don’t have to go to all the effort of finding it, folding it up neatly and putting it away. No! Anger makes its own relentless way to the hiding place. It’s very good that way. Not much effort required from me. Because I’m lazy you see.
    And the awareness of laziness also seems to slip away to hide in that box. I mean, I do help it a little, but really, it’s up to it to do the work of finding its way there. I shouldn’t have to creak into action and go to the effort. No, that’s laziness’ job. Not mine.
    I also find that arrogance boldly strides into the box of denial, throws open the lid, stomps int, flings itself into a chair to swiftly take over and dominate whoever else may be finding respite there.
    And then there’s co-dependence who masquerades as humility. It will wait meekly at the box, waiting quietly for arrogance to make its entry so it can sneak unobtrusively in behind. Co-dependence will slip into the smallest, most uncomfortable chair so that everyone else is comfortable and happy and won’t rock the box with conflict. So that everyone can get along… please.
    Then there’s the manipulating bitch. This one has given the key to co-dependence so no one will realise it also uses the box. This is the one who’ll hang around at the entrance, pick up the best-looking tenant and get him to open the door for her, kick laziness out of the comfy chair and settle the bitch with a drink and a footstool, making sure that her every whim is attended to.
    Which brings me back to me. If I want to live a decent, happy and fulfilled life I have to regularly visit the box, most often uninvited. I have to prise off the lid, shake it about and see who falls out first. Pick the shameful feeling up, dust it off and bring it back in to the light. Work gently and kindly with whoever it is. Negotiate with it. Listen to it and actually hear it. Allow it expression and individuality without judgement or scorn.
    The biggest challenge in dealing with denial is to let it know that it’s OK. It will not really be that bad to examine the contents. I don’t need to smash to box to pieces. I don’t need to stomp on it in rage and shame for being what it is. I need to let it know that it is a mechanism that does work and does have its place. I need to know that I will open the box with ease when I use the key of compassion to open it so the twirling ballerina can be free to dance in the light of my love, understanding and acceptance.
    Then I can put the box in my mantelpiece, open it at will – either to put things away or take them out. The box won’t disappear but nor do I have to hide it in dark places. It’s allowed to be a part of the decoration in my home that I am slowly building up with awareness and honour.
    There are many, many visitors there who come and go. And that’s just the way it is.

    Like

  29. No, I never had a secret hiding place. Everyone knew if it was nice out and they couldn’t find me in the house to look out in the front yard under a tree. They would find me reading.

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