My maternal grandmother died at the age of 54 in 1955, nine years before I was born.

She exists in my consciousness as a collection of stories about minor events which peppered her short life, which was defined by a loving marriage, several live births and several still births, her faith, her community, her humble nature.

My mother told me that shortly before she died, she started to tell people who came to visit her as she lay dying, the ways in which they had upset her and the effect their perceived unkindness had affected her.

A settling of scores  at the end of a fulfilling but hard short life.

This little anecdote does not define her life, but strangely it connects me to her with a love I can hardly explain which feels so very deep for a person I never knew in life.

Her need to express her inner-self, parts of her which she had suppressed and tolerated for the sake of family; for the sake of community; for the sake of her place in the world suddenly found a voice through her spoken words which were released from deep within her suffering soul.

I like to think, that her settling of scores brought her healing, love and forgiveness  because I know for sure, that it ultimately brought her peace and rest.

I pray to her each day as if she was a saint:-

“God Bless you my dear Grandma, may you rest in peace gentle, kind and faithful soul who gave life to so many through your frail body”

I believe that our connections are maintained after death with those whom we love, and it is through her courage to find her voice and speak her truth, that I have been inspired in some small part, to find and speak mine.

My next blog will be: Side by Side

William Defoe

Recently, I have entered into an arrangement to meet a gay couple who are known to a mutual friend, but not to me.

I have struggled to connect with the gay community because I have lived my life as a heterosexual man and I am married to my wife of thirty years, whom I very much love and care for.

I have been faithful to the vows I made to her all them years ago.

In recent years, and especially since telling my wife of my gay sexuality, I have tried to connect more fully with the person of self which encompasses my desire to remain in my marriage, but also to be gay.

My friend suggested that I might benefit from making a connection with her friends as a way of enabling me to feel “seen”.

To be in the presence of these two gay men and to be acknowledged as gay will be a very important moment in my journey to accept self.

It matters to me profoundly to be able to witness to my truth in this way, without compromising  my integrity.

Once the arrangements were made, I held within me a sense of dilemma – should I tell my wife about the arrangements I had made?.

My options : –

• Don’t tell her – she won’t understand – she does not need to know – it might worry her – but then, she might find out and that would look bad!
• Tell her, but then she might not understand, she might get cross with me – best then to wait until nearer the time to minimize the period of discourse between us.
• Leave her the clues for her to find – an email trail of clues and invite the question from her.

I chose the latter option, but the trail lead to the question sooner than I had hoped it would.

I wasn’t spared the discourse and for her it presented itself as a matter of trust.

I have not always felt supported by her on my journey to know and understand my self more fully, without judgement, without apology, without regret, without hope, but I am worthy of her trust.

I have made it clear, that my procrastination in respect of this issue was not a matter of trust, but a matter of time, a matter of fear; a matter of isolation.

I am looking forward to meeting these men, who have for no other reason than to help me, have kindly offered to give up their evening and connect with me in my need to be seen.

My next blog will be: Settling Scores

William Defoe

Two weeks ago, I had an enjoyable night out with my younger brother.

We live in different cities in the UK, so we traveled to a city in the middle-distance by train, so that we could both relax and enjoy a drink of alcohol with our conversation.

I carry some pain over what I perceive to be a lack of warmth in our relationship, and in truth I felt slightly anxious about our encounter as I went to meet him.

I had hoped that the conversation would turn, at least for part of the evening to the conflict I manage in respect of my sexuality, which he is aware of, but it did not do so, except momentarily in relation to a point he was making about a work-related issue he was describing.

I enjoyed the evening.

We got on well, and the heart of our conversation was taken up by a thorough discussion on our opposing views to Brexit.

How revealing I thought, as I reflected on the conversation on my way home, that we are from the same womb and yet we perceive the world so differently from each other.

Of course, our commonality of parentage, is a bond which I hope will provide a lasting basis for our relationship, but I know that even that is not guaranteed if we allow the differences between us to tear us apart.

From the same womb and yet, wired so differently in our attitudes to the world in which we inhabit, despite having shared a room as children and young adults, attended the same schools, and shared the same relations, neighbours and parish friends.

Our joint faith, our love for our family and our commitment to be there for each other  should the chips be down is a sign of a strong bond between us which despite our differences in political outlook, and in emotional; sexual and intellectual capacity, is I hope, something which will endure until the end of our lives.

My next blog will be: A Matter of Trust

William Defoe

In November 2012, I told my wife, the mother of my children, that I was gay.

It was a watershed moment in my life from which there has been no turning back.

At the moment of telling her of my truth I expected our marriage to end, but her decision to accept me in the full knowledge of my sexuality was at the time euphoric.

Five years on, the euphoria has given way to reality.

I have developed a much stronger sense of self over the last five years so that I no longer, feel ashamed of being gay, I feel the opposite – my acceptance of being gay has been a journey of acceptance, a journey of finding truth; a journey of curiosity; a journey of finding self.

This growing feeling of acceptance has been a source of conflict in the marriage because although I accept that I must be faithful to my vows, I have developed a strong need to connect fully with my identify.

I have been able to do this by reading widely, finding self in quiet moments and physical activity (running) and in talking therapy.

My ability to be attracted to those of my own sex is no longer accompanied with a sense of guilt; a sense of dread; a sense of shame as it used to be.

This openness to my reality, is not an easy reality for my wife to bear.

It has had the potential to destabilize our relationship and in the presence of anger and the absence of dialogue, real tensions have at different times emerged between us.

I will not couch my reality to her in anything but the truth of how I am affected by it.

To do anything other than this would be to subjugate me to a denial of self; a perversion of my truth which my wife must either accept or choose not to accept and determine for herself a future which is different to the one we hoped to have 30 years ago and renewed between us 5 years ago.

I still think that we have the opportunity to do something remarkable; something which defies logic and something which honours our love for each other.

Five years on, I don’t think that either of us are searching for euphoria, we are searching for trust; searching for happiness; searching for intimacy.

Five years on, the route to this place of calm, will I feel only be achieved through love.

My wife, I love you!

My next blog will be: From The Same Womb

William Defoe

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Despite coming out as being a gay man to my wife five years ago, I still struggle to be seen.

This is my problem, not hers.

I have endeavored since making my dramatic announcement, to connect more fully with my sexuality, whilst being faithful to the vows I have made to my wife, which I have kept and which I intend to keep.

This intention does not preclude me from two important aspects of self-hood:-

• The first is my willingness to accept that I am gay.

This means that I do not work on my development from a place of being a victim – I know longer pray to be rid of these feelings as I did for many years.

• The second is a deepening need to be seen.

It is only in recent months that I have begun to construct a voice, to an inner narrative which says, that despite choosing to remain faithful in my heterosexual marriage, because I love my wife, this does not mean that I cannot explore non-sexual aspects of my sexuality on a social, emotional, academic, intellectual or physical* level.

I have lived my life, hidden from the view of the community which I would like to claim as my own.

Now, I want to be seen.

I want to be seen with people who express the same desires as I do, but for whom there is no obvious restriction to that expression.

I want to be seen, because I want to gain a sense of community so that my feelings are not operating in a vacuum, but are joined to like-thinking people at a social, emotional and intellectual level, which is in no way disrespectful of the vows I have taken which I choose to honour.

My journey to a fuller understanding of self, has been a journey which has grown in capacity to include contradiction, to include other dimensions, to include the universe so that restrictive thoughts; restrictive dialogue; restrictive practices are opened up and enlightened.

I want to be seen, because I want to thrive.

[I want to thank those people who have helped to facilitate my understanding, and those whom have offered to enlighten my understanding by sharing aspects of their lives with me.]

My next blog will be:  Five Years On

William Defoe

• hugs / eye-contact / hand shake

Last week I was away for a few days at the seaside.

I was momentarily distracted from the book I was reading, as I sat overlooking the beach, by a family playing cricket on the beach.

Among them was a little boy, aged about 8, who was  participating as batsman in his red wellingtons.

After a while I notice that he was back-stump and a little later fielder.

Cricket is a game which is best played by the all-rounder – those men or women and children who can hit the ball, but also bowl the ball or catch it from the field of play.

As I watched, fleetingly this little boy move positions to support the family’s game of beach cricket, I felt a tug from within of emotion and disappointment.

At a similar age, I was also invited to participate in my own family’s game of beach cricket, but I was only ever prepared to bat.

I couldn’t bowl the ball straight and I loathed being sent out to field, as I had no interest in catching the ball either, or worse having to run miles down the beach to pick it up and chuck it back.

My recollections are that my family, that is my Dad and my brothers and sisters and cousins just accepted me for the part I was prepared to play, but as I reflect now, 40+ years later on my selfish participation, I wince at my inability at that time to participate fully in the game and for the enjoyment of others rather than myself.

In truth, I just wasn’t wired that way, at that time in my life,  but I think that beach cricket has something important to teach us all about playing our part, however small, and however lacking in skill in all aspects of the game/life.

Over time, fuller participation brings forward closer bonds, unity of purpose, developing strengths and awareness of weakness but this is supported by those in life who have contrasting strengths and weaknesses to those of our own.

To bat and walk away, just isn’t cricket, as they say, I knew it then, but I feel it now.

To live, and not to participate by exploring ones own sense of self, to make discoveries, to overcome adversities, is like thinking that all that matters is the need to catch the ball, but no it is not –  it is holding up your hands in the attempt which counts in the end, catch it or drop it the games goes on until its conclusion and so does life.

My next blog will be: Wanting to be Seen

William Defoe

Last Thursday, I attended a Speed Awareness Course at the invitation of the Police Service, in place of receiving three penalty points on my driving license and a £100 fine.

Despite my conviction which is now quashed, I do not consider myself to be a dangerous driver, but I am rarely fully aware of the speed limit on the roads on which I drive.

It is as if the familiarity of both the act of driving a vehicle, and the routes I take on a frequent and repetitive basis have de-sensitized me to the safety risks of driving.

I emerged from the 4 hour session determined to change my attitude when I am driving.

I think that I have learned that I need to take note of my surroundings whilst I am driving, taking note of signage on the road itself and on the road architecture at the side of the road, as I drive along.

I need to control my speed within the limits set for each and every part of the road, being aware when the speed limit changes and being aware of my proximity to other vehicles, allowing space to stop safely in an emergency.

I need to take  notice of the pavements (side-walks) for pedestrians and animals and cyclists and school entrances and access to emergency services premises.

I need to consider whether it is safe to allow my mind to be pre-occupied with other issues when I am driving – is the radio distracting my concentration from the safety measures I need to be constantly aware of when I am in control of a car.

Is my access to my mobile phone, such that I cannot be tempted to look at it, use it, respond to it whilst the car is between departure and arrival including those times when the car is not actually moving.

I think that my speed awareness course has taught me an important transferable discipline of mind-management useful to other aspects of my thinking life.

That is, to take notice, to be aware of the risks but not to be overcome by them, to move forward constantly re-appraising the new surroundings in which I find myself and to make sure that despite the risks which I have to take in life,  I will arrive safely at my destination.

My next blog will be: Cricket

William Defoe

Occasionally, I have found myself driving behind a bus on a long stretch of road, on which there are a couple of opportunities to overtake, but in the most part I am forced into driving at the speed of the bus.

I have noticed, how, if I change my focus from frustration at the delay, the inner irritation can be turned to a positive experience.

For a few moments behind the bus, I can begin to feel grateful that I have a car and grateful for the bus service for those who do not, and also for the times I myself have used the bus to get about the city where I live.

Driving at a slower speed seems to translate within me to slower thinking.

Time to notice my breathing  – in and then out – time to notice the immediate external environment to my right and left which I usually rush past.

Time to put my life in context again and to acknowledge to myself that despite how I may think, I am a part of this world, I am not at the centre of everything.

How good it feels, behind the bus, to be lead, to be subjugated for those few moments to a state of compliance for the needs of others.

How good it feels to acknowledge that there are bigger things out there in the world than my ego – the bus symbolizing size and power, if not speed.

I sometimes forget that the troubles and difficulties which I experience in my life are only ever a part of it, they do not define it all, and driving slowly behind the bus provides me with just a few moments to remind me so.

My next blog will be: Speed Awareness

William Defoe

In so many ways, my appetite is satisfied through regular meal-times, conversation; sex; quietness; beauty; love; holidays; clothes; faith; friendship.

The problem is, that quite often, I am all too aware of the temporary nature of the satisfaction I derive, and how all too soon the need; the craving; the wanting; the neglect; the disappointment; the frustration of dis-satisfaction clouds my life.

On the surface, and I think even deeper than the surface, I experience satisfaction above and beyond material and human physical need, for I am a man of faith.

I believe in Christ and through Him, I believe in God.

I think those people of all faiths and none, who are able to connect deeply to the truth as they see it, of their convictions to support them through their life are truly blessed.

I have been inspired by holy people whose utter faith has transformed them into people who offer service to others by acts of kindness; charity and love.

And it is not as though these people, who have clear and pure beliefs are protected from the trials and tribulations of life, but they seem to be able to  persevere because their fundamental core has been satisfied.

These types of people seem to be able to respond with phrases of acceptance in the face of challenges, that misfortunes and good-fortune are “God’s will”

I don’t process my trials and tribulations in life like them.

I struggle when my appetite; my needs are not satisfied.

I have something to learn then, still, from the inspiration handed down by those people, past and present, who have something constant to rely upon which regardless of hunger or deprivation their appetite for living is fulfilled.

My next blog will be: Behind the Bus

William Defoe

On Friday morning, at my moment of waking, I became acutely aware that my low mood had reached its peak.

It had been building and building and whereas in the past it’s transition has been vocalized and angry, now through development, I track it’s cycle as if I am anticipating a hurricane heading for the shores of my consciousness with feelings of utmost anxiety and an inner desolation.

At this low ebb, I revel in the beauty of the clarity of thinking I experience.  I notice the impact of sheer purity, darkness and rawness.

I took my time to get ready for work.

I functioned in automatic mode, without betraying for a moment the inner turmoil within.

Utter hopelessness and desolation.

As I drove to work, I listened to a track* over and over  – I track which I love very much and I felt connected to what seemed to me to be a melancholy intro which suited my mood and brought upon me a tear.

As I arrived at work, I sat motionless in the car, feeling within my body the breath which sustains my life and rejecting once again all thoughts which look forward to its end.

The tide has turned, time again to face life  – the mood has swung, subtle, firm, resolute.

The track itself, which I love so well, has buried within it the solitary words “I love you”

I love you..

I love you…

Time to face the day, the clouds lift within me as I begin to function.

The clarity of the low mood is fuzzed over with experiencing life, making connections, bringing humour, bringing skill, bringing me.

My next blog will be: Appetite Satiated

William Defoe

*Post inspired by : The Communards track “La Dolarosa”