I have had this post in my head for sometime. It feels right at this time to write it down.

As I untangled the Christmas lights to hang on the tree in my garden, I struggled to separate a set of white berry lights from a set of red berry lights which had been stored in the same box.

I was surprised how easy it was to separate each set, one from the other, and then confounded by the extreme difficulty which I had in unravelling each set from themselves to create a straight line from which I could begin the action of hanging them on the branches of my tree.

It was truly horrendous, frustrating and I felt like I had neither time or patience to be bothered as it was cold and dark outside in the garage where I had gone to do the job under the lights.

The entanglement of the red berries betwixt themselves and also the white berries betwixt themselves, brought strongly to mind the reality that our choices, even when they are clear and separately identifiable, are within themselves tangled , unclear, full of hope and risk, full of desire and acceptance, full of safety and denial.

In my mind the comfort and security of my marriage respresented by the white berries, seems like a pure choice, a sensible choice and safe choice, and my marriage and my place within it carries the hopes and aspirations of my wife, whom I love.

In my mind the brutal honesty and risk of embracing my gay truth, represented by the red berries, seems like a selfish choice, unsafe, harmful to others and also to myself, but it carries the truth and the honesty of my feelings in the harsh reality of who I am at my core.

Eventually , I unravel the lights so that they are laid out untangled , side by side on the garage floor, next to each other.

I carry both sets of lights out separately to hang on the tree and place them there side by side. I deliver the cable to provide the energy which will be needed to light them up so that they sparkle and twinkle, side by side in the night sky for the benefit of my family and my neighbours and for those who pass by.

Such a public display of my truth, hidden in the metaphor of the white and red berries, shocks my inner turmoil, provokes it to grieve in silence for a time of peace , when my heart and mind can be settled and reconciled to the dual reality of my life.

There was a time when I did not recognise within me , or feel able to articulate my inner conflict, now it is present , a companion of my private reverie at the deeper mystery of who I am.

I know my truth, it cannot be denied, it is right to set it side by side, untangled for the world to see, knowing that in the white and the red berries , glistening in the night air, and blowing in the breeze, that I am doing what I can to honour both myself and also those whom I love.

William Defoe

I’ve spent two nights in my home alone for the first time in over 34 years.

My wife is away at a family celebration whcih I had to stay away from having contracted coronavirus.

I have had some time to think, and in this oasis of silence, I have been considering how to bring to an end my addiction with self.

I have engaged over the last four years in a relentless pursuit of trying to connect with my identity as a gay man, married and established in a long lasting heterosexual marriage.

There was a period of time when I felt that my marriage was completely incompatible with who I am, and on the very brink of leaving, I seemed to capitulate and fall back into the weakness of the familiar; the weakness of the status quo; the weakness of acquiescence.

My addiction, is not for a drug or a drink, and my goodness how strong and resolved are those brave souls who overcome their nemesis, my addiction is for a desire to be seen, to be known and loved in the fulness of my truth.

Whilst alone today, I felt peaceful, calm almost , but sad that I do not feel loved by my children in the way that I had imagined I would be.

I wanted to be a father who was doted over, sought out for a hug, idolised and feignted as a funny, modern , accessible man whom they could rely on for their every need.

I think in materialistic ways, I have achieved that goal, but in the emotional and spiritual aspects, my connection with my children, now all grown and fledged into their own lives is a shadow of what it could have been.

My silence, my quiet addiction to know and love myself has exhausted me physically and emotionally and it has strained not just my marriage, but my heart and my faith.

I felt today, in the silence that I should put my preoccupation with self behind me. That is, accept the life I have chosen and be content.

It sounds in my heart to be a very noble aspiration, it sounds in my head to be a very sensible step; it sounds in my soul to be a very maturing development so why oh why does it sound in my life like the anguished cry of someone accepting a life in the shade.

William Defoe

As I get older, I have noticed that my physical agility and suppleness has decreased, so that some parts of my own body are now out of my reach.

An itch in the centre of my back, which as a younger man I could reach by stretching my arm behind me from underneath or over my shoulder is now inaccessible for me.

There are unreachable parts of my understanding too in much the same way. I don’t seem to trust the natural instincts which I experience in contemplating my homosexuality.

I seem content to live permanently with the suffering caused by indecisiveness and suppression, rather than being brave enough to allow myself to succumb to my truth which would enable me to be in full connection with my identity.

If I pick up a stick I can reach the itch on my back, but I risk cutting the skin in the hope of resolving the discomfort.

There does not seem to be a metaphorical stick for the hard to reach parts of my mind, other than the love of those who know and acknoledge my truth, and are not frightened by it, and also the silence of my own thoughts which enable me to revel privately in those attractions I have , which are hidden from the world.

I have come to an understanding over the years, that however deep my pain, however strong my frustration, however tangible my fear, I can allow myself to be fully accessible, fully open, fully human, if only for those times when I am agile enough to be happy with who I am.

William Defoe

During the Covid lockdown in the UK, in which we have been contained in our family groups within our homes and our gardens, I have taken a keen interest in the various visits to our garden of the wild birds.

These are not as exotic as you might find in other countries, but the visit of the robin, the blue-tit, the house sparrow, the collared dove, the magpie and the blackbird have brought a thrill to my eyes and ears as I have watched them arrive, feed, sing their song and leave my garden.

I particulrly enjoy listening to the call of the lone blackbird as it whistles its tune into the open space from its perch on a rooftop nearby. It’s tail bobbing as it calls out its song.

I wonder at it’s, effort and revel in it’s beauty.

Is it calling for a mate, or to mark it’s territory, or to alert it’s own kind to its presence?

Is it responding to the call of it’s mate or neighbours, or simply wanting to be heard by its own kind?

This thought, forced within me a reflection on my own need to be seen and to be heard, and how incredibly difficult it can be at times to traverse the world, hidden , suppressed, contained because I have not been able to express myself fully as a gay man.

I think this kind of infringement is akin to putting the blackbird in a cage and putting that cage in a garden shed.

What a shame it would be to deny ourselves of the joy of hearing the blackbird sing freely, and in the same spirit of openess therefore, what a shame it is to deny ourselves the capacity to speak our truth.

William Defoe

I think that I have developed a deeper sense of how courageous I have been in the midst of a life lived in the shadows of my true identity.

I have endured in complete silence and without any support from any other living soul, my open life as a family man, a man of faith, a man of deep integrity and strong values.

For shame!

I have endured alone, my deep longings to be whole, my deep longings to be seen, my deep longings to be acknowledged in my truth as a gay man.

In these more recent years, I have been liberated from the silent grief of my heart by acknowledging my truth to a close knit circle, including my wife, my brother and my coach.

My coach, I reflect is saving my life by refusing to collude with me in the act of suppression, and willing me through my own endeavours into a space in which I can live and feel and be who I was born to be.

I sense in these most recent of days, my courage, rather than what I have percieved as weakness in living my life in the shadows. To attempt to hold on to the aspects of my life which I love and value is an act of courage, an act of self-giving, and an act of love.

My truth finds its expression in no longer being fearful of being found out, my courage finds its expression in accepting and welcoming all of me in my own moments of reverie about the mystery of my humanity.

I am very much loved and respected by those who share my life, be it in fulness or in the shadows of my branches.

The fruit I bear, the fruit I share and the fruit which falls unseen to the ground under the weight of its density and the weakness of the stem, is calling out to all who see me, to look, to notice and to acknowledge the courage I have shown in endurance throughout my life.

William Defoe