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” 

Here in the UK, the leaves are turning to colours of autumn gold and red and falling to the ground.

One day last week, a small uneven track on which I run each morning had a covering of autumn leaves over it.

The view down the secluded path, was very beautiful, as if a carpet had been strewn out in my honour as I traversed along it.

My mind turned to the uneven path which lay beneath the leaves,  and how the covering of autumn leaves had somehow disguised the reality of its inherent risks  – certainly a falling hazard on which I always take the utmost care.

But then, to be cushioned from the harshness of the ground by the leaves was comforting and the crispy crunch underneath my feet, gave me a sense of warmth and security as I ran along it.

I sensed within me a tangible example of what it is like to feel safe, in the midst of danger, trouble and strife which accompanies me through the upheavals of my state of my mind, as I come to terms with how life is, rather than how I imagine it should be.

Those leaves made me feel safe, because I already understood the harsh reality of the ground underneath them, and I think, that this is the main point of my post today.

My experience of safety and comfort, has only taken on meaning and significance because I have come to know, through deep and consistent practice, (with the help and guidance of my wonderful coach) the fullness of my truth, as a gay man trying to make my heterosexual marriage more loving and secure.

This aspiration of mine is helped by a covering of leaves – let’s translate this to a kiss or a hug or a smile or deeper intimacy, but soon those leaves will turn dank and damp, slippery and wet, and once more the ground will be revealed, not as a stranger to me but as a friend.

My marriage can only continue to be secure; loving; laughing; sharing; and hopeful, if I can tread upon the ground, which I have come to know over many years to be rocky, gravelly and uneven, when my feet know the places on which to put down my weight with security, dexterity and mastery which I have learned.

My next blog will be: Melancholy Intro

William Defoe

One warm evening whilst on holiday in Spain this summer, I offered to buy my wife a Spanish Lace Fan so that she could waft her face delicately as she walked along.

She declined the offer, but she laughed when I said I would buy one for myself.

I am sure that men do use these devices, but I associate them with women, where I have seen them been particularly put to firm use in churches during Mass.

I told my wife that I was going to buy one for myself, and I intimated an action with my imaginary fan, which was very effeminate in its movement.

We laughed.

It was a happy moment.

It is a moment I have stored to bring balance to the tough times.

I asked her, “What would you do if I was to buy a Spanish fan and walk down the promenade wafting it effeminately about my face?”

She said, “I would walk behind you and pretend to be not associated with you”

“But you wouldn’t leave me” I asked?

“No, I wouldn’t leave you” she said, “because I would not feel safe without you”

So, I tested the limits and I discovered that, for all my faults and failings, my wife is prepared to walk behind me in the most ridiculous of situations, but as I much prefer her at my side, I had to do without a Spanish Fan.

My next blog will be “A Covering of Autumn Leaves”

William Defoe