When I was about ten years old, my friends locked me in a neighbours cupboard as part of the play.

It wasn’t intended to hurt me, but it did.

Realizing that I was trapped in the cupboard, I became incredibly anxious to get out, but my means of escape was not in my hands, it was in the hands of others.

I have periodically had nightmares about that event, despite the passing of the years, because in those moments – and they were only moments – I experienced a deep trauma and helplessness, the like of which I had never experienced before.

In my life at the present moment, I have all those feelings of being trapped in a cupboard, but I am struck by the thought, that I am the one who has the means of escape. I am not dependent on anybody else to free me from my place of fear.

It is as if I am sat in the cupboard again, with the door fast shut, but it is I who is holding on to the handle and pulling it towards me to keep me fastened in.

What is it about the world outside that I am so scared of?

Outside of my marriage, I can sense a liberation, but I also sense doubt, a loss of my capacity to be a friend to my wife whom I love.

My need, which is ever growing for me to be part of the gay community, to whom I rightfully belong, is an enormous burden in my heart which is held fast behind the cupboard door.

My chest heaves, and my heart sighs, and my mind swoons over and over and over but still I hold onto that door, keeping me safe from the truth, keeping me safe from the courage I need, keeping me safe from being who I am meant to be.

My next blog will be: Being Here Instead of There

William Defoe