When I was a child, I used to suffer from insomnia. I would lie in bed and overanalyze what had happened that day… agonize over whether I could have handled things differently… imagine alternative tomorrows… catastrophize a bit. I’m not a huge fan of the concept of a ‘migraine personality’ but I am self-aware enough to recognize that I have always been at least a little bit anxious, and as such, I was potentially establishing the groundwork for my future migraine-brain.
My father, who was attending a raft of management conferences at the time, taught me about the importance of creating a ‘happy place’ that you could go to – repeatedly – each night. The happy place was personal and relatable, and required a relaxing journey to get there. The idea was to calm yourself, and bore yourself, to sleep each time you imagined it.
I can still remember my happy place. And before you judge me, remember I was still very young; maybe nine or ten years old (about the same age as I was when I was rolling down mountains wiping out learner-skiers). In a manner reminiscent to Frances Hodgson Burnett’s “The Secret Garden” (1911), I would imagine myself going through the back door of my house, slowly walking across the back yard, where I would arrive at our ivy-covered back fence. I would then go through a gate only I knew about, and escape into an alternate universe. On the other side of this secret gate was an enormous field of everlasting daisies. And I mean truly everlasting – I would pick a bunch of flowers and a bunch more would instantly grow back in their place. I could walk through the field, treading on the flowers, lie on them, make a daisy-angel, and do no harm. They would simply spring back up in an eternal Spring. I could make daisy-chains to my heart’s content knowing that there would be an infinity of new flowers to take their place.
After imagining the same sequence for many, many nights in a row, all I needed to do was imagine myself opening the gate to the magic garden and I would fall asleep.
At some point, my fall-asleep-happy-place dream sequence grew an extra chapter. After visiting the magic garden, I returned back through the fence, now dressed as a girl from Victorian England (as you do), laden with a basket full of flowers. I would walk the streets of London (I guess) handing out possies to the poor, homeless and bewildered to brighten their day. I vaguely remember an even later version, generated when I eventually figured out that I was the proud ‘owner’ of the equivalent of a money-tree, given that the everlasting daisies could be an everlasting source of pocket money.
Years later I remember experimenting with a more ‘gothic’ version of a ‘happy’ place. This one included an old mansion with an enormous library which I could only access by going through a labyrinth of silent ballrooms with crystal chandeliers. I can’t remember whether it was a good book, scones with jam and cream, or Mr Darcy that was awaiting me beside the fireplace in the library with a candlestick, but I do recall the sequence helped put me to sleep for several months.
Whether it is to go to sleep, or as a distraction to the pain you’re experiencing during a migraine attack, why not try inventing a happy place of your own. Make it an inviting, restful, hushed place. It might be based on a nostalgic childhood memory, a favorite holiday destination, or a location from a beloved book. It doesn’t matter, so long as it oozes ‘good vibes only’. Add soft lighting and gentle music to the scene if you wish. Put people in there if it helps you feel less lonely but remind them you’re aiming for a bored-brain so they must not entice you with stimulating conversations, only enigmatic smiles or brooding eyes. Invent a journey to get to the happy place and retrace your steps every time you go there. ‘On-repeat’ not ‘shuffle’ is what is required here.
Give it a go. Afterall, you have nothing to lose and a potential ‘happy place’ to gain!
Take care, Linda x
The Mindful Migraine 
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