On Friday night after going to bed, I had to get up because of what I can only describe as extreme agitation which manifests itself from my head into my body through restlessness, scratching, itching, deep sighing, and tension in the muscles of my hands, calves and feet.

It is nothing short of brutal anguish.

This blog is not about the cause of it, it is about the beauty of it, and how I am learning to be grateful for it because, for me:-

• it is a route to change
• it is a route to conversation
• it is a route to openness
• it is a route to a decision
• it is a route to being present.

On getting downstairs, I sat in the darkness, having chosen not to put on the lights, and what I wanted most of all was to cry, but the tears resolutely refused to come.

It is a feeling of being overcome with the faults and failings of the past, it is converted into a fearful hopelessness of the future and it hurts like hell.

As I sat there in the dark, I was feeling like one of the characters of JK Rowling’s Harry Potter Books when the Dementors** came and sucked all vestige of happiness, hope and peace from their victims and left them soulless (see below).

This overwhelming feeling  of having failed as a husband, as a father, as a son as a brother as a man was pushing up within me, from the depths of my struggle and turmoil, a voice from deep within which wanted my attention.

Strangely, even though I felt dreadful, I was conscious that I could bring this feeling to an end by switching on the lights, or putting on the TV or Radio or Music to distract me from my thoughts, but I did not want to – I wanted to hear this voice from within.

I did wonder about taking some medication to calm me down, but for me, it is a harsh cure because it forces the body to rest without addressing the needs of the mind (I would have been more likely to take this route if I had a day ahead of me).

So, I stuck it out in a state of anguish, alone, in the dark for an hour and I let it all fly in my head, trying desperately to catch the narrative of hope that was fighting to emerge within me from the din.

After a while, I lay down, I was calm, the seeds of an answer to my call were sown amidst the anguish and I was still.

After a further while, feeling cold in the unheated space, I got up to go back to bed, tired, exhausted both physically and emotionally, but calm and as I did so, I wiped away the tears that had come unnoticed and alone to my eyes, and was I thankful for their appearance at last.

My next blog will be: Here’s the Deal

William Defoe