I have been pondering recently over the origins of what makes me the man I am today.

In the 1960’s when I was born and raised I have very little memory of those early years and I am curious about what I was like as a pre-school child.

Last week, I had a few moments with my elderly parents on a visit to see them and after discussing a variety of topics, I suddenly asked them what I was like as a child.

My mother immediately said you were very caring and loving.

My father said “You was a very a kind little boy”

“How can a three year old be kind?” I asked

My mother said you cared deeply for your younger brother and you took responsibility for him which you wanted to do, but I certainly did not expect you to do.

The conversation turned slightly defensive.

There was one occasion, my mother said, when a man came over to her to say what a lovely little boy I was, after he had observed me looking after my little sister – so I would be aged about five of six at that time.

My mother said, he is a kind little boy, but I must assure you that he is not responsible for his sister, I have been watching them throughout the whole period.

My mother said, I didn’t want him to think you were somehow taking on the responsibilities of a parent, but you just was a very kind a sharing child  – it was just inherent in your nature.

My father said, you liked to run on ahead when you had space to do that – on the promenade or in the park.

On one occasion, he said, you were running aged about four directly towards a lake which I knew you had not seen.

I set off at a pace to catch you, and reached you just as you entered the water to your waist and tugged you back by the shoulders – this was a story I had heard before, and indeed there is photographic evidence of the event which I have seen – an old photo of me wearing my older brothers underwear and my brother looking less than happy with the turn of events at the side of me.

So, I was a very kind little boy, but I seemed to want time out in front alone in my own thoughts when I had the opportunity for that.

Perhaps the man, I have become is not so different in essence from the origins I displayed as a child, but the trials of life and the suppression of my truth in respect of my sexuality caused me to be angry and frustrated for long periods of my adult life.

I am so glad, I asked them, about the boy I used to be because that very kind little boy is the man I strive to be.

My next blog will be: I Was in Need of Rest

William Defoe

 

Last weekend I took my daughter on a long vigorous walk up a local peak – a hike!

She had told me recently, that she did not like the top of her arms and was reluctant to wear clothing that revealed them.

I felt concerned, but managed to keep my own counsel until I had thought of a way to respond constructively, with care, and with truth.

Later that week, as I started to speak to her about something I wanted to say, she tried to stop me, and said I know what you are going to say.

I told her that I would prefer to say it anyway, and she reluctantly allowed me to do so.

I said, it is not that long ago, perhaps two years at most since you were proud to wear an off the shoulder dress for a big birthday celebration, and as I recall you looked stunning and there was no mention of you not liking the top of your arms – what has changed?.

I just don’t like them anymore, she replied.

I said to her, it fills me with concern that you should place on yourself such a restriction when unless something has happened to them, which has changed their appearance – a tattoo perhaps or an injury – you should restrict yourself to such an extent on an internal belief system which thwarts your life.

I said to her, please don’t build fences around yourself which close down your opportunities to be yourself.

Please don’t be such a harsh judge which fears so much the opinion of others, or is concerned with what other people think – be yourself, be happy, you are young and beautiful and you have life’s full potential ahead of you.

I said to her, I have an idea, let’s go for a long walk up a local peak on Saturday.

She seemed interested, but she supplied me with a whole list of reasons why she could not do the walk – it would be too difficult and she might fail to reach the top and I’d be cross if we had to turn back.

I assured her that she could do the walk, that she would succeed, that it would be difficult in parts of it, but she would reach the top.

After various messages of re-assurance she agreed to come with me.

She had absolutely no difficulty in reaching the top and she loved the experience.

We had a fantastic day of father and daughter time and she could hardly control her excitement as she related her achievement to her mother and her boyfriend.

I said to her, please don’t say you can’t do something you have not tried.

Please don’t fear trying and failing.

Please don’t think yourself into a state of denying yourself opportunities to experience new challenges, especially at such a young age.

Now, I said, you can climb any hill you like, and you can choose not to do so on the basis of experience not of fear.

And also, please translate this learning and this sense of fulfillment into all aspects of your life’s choices and  consider please, if the mood takes you, to wearing a sleeveless top.

My next blog will be: A Kind Little Boy

William Defoe

 

 

 

During the period of time in 2012, since I told my wife that I have a same sex attraction, I have benefited from a period of coaching in which I have been able to come to terms with how I feel.

I have been surprised by my growing capacity to hold within me, conflicting ideals in respect of my gay sexuality and heterosexual marriage.

It seemed to me for many years, that it had to be a choice of one over the other, and I could not imagine a time when the seemingly incompatible complexity of my feelings would ever enable me to feel safe.

A few weeks ago my wife became upset after reading my post on “Infatuation” and it took me a few days to be able to create a space in which we were able to talk and listen.

I picked my moment to start a conversation as we sat together overlooking the sea.

Her fears had been heightened, by reading how my feelings for my own sex manifest themselves in my life and she said it made her feel unsafe.

Gradually, and with much care, I was able to explain that the audience for my posts is not her, it is primarily addressed to those who experience conflict in their lives for which they feel a sense of hopelessness.

I was able to explain with conviction, that to say to me that she accepts that I am gay, and then to say she does not like it when she sees it, or reads it, or thinks about it, is to somehow wish it away, when the fact is, that it will never go away.

My infatuations for me, are not something new, they have been a feature of my life for over thirty years and perhaps even longer.

They are infatuations, not lovers, there is no physical contact and nor will there be, because as far as I can tell, these men are not accessible to me and even if they were, I love her.

My wife explained to me that she needed to feel safe, and when she comes into direct contact with my sexual feelings for men, she does not feel safe.

I then told her that it was not my responsibility to make her feel safe, it was our responsibility together to make sure that we are happy and fulfilled within our marriage.

I pointed to the fact that we have been married for thirty years, we have been married five of those years in the full knowledge that I am gay, I have undertaken intense coaching to manage my anger and to embrace my sexuality as an integral part of my self, I have been faithful to her since our first meeting as teenagers, and we have three children whom we both love with all our hearts.

I explained to her that I craved for years to feel safe, but now I do not do so.

If safety means suppression of the truth, hiding the facts, glossing over the reality of it all, this is not safety, it is the very opposite, because it will lead to the very thing we fear losing.

I explained to her, that the best thing is to shift the focus from wanting to feel safe, to an acceptance of it, which is much more than saying “I accept it”, it is living “I accept it” because ultimately we have a choice over events which follow in the future, over which neither of us has full control.

This reality of individual choice, is at the basis of any marriage.

I choose you, you choose me, and it is a joint enterprise to keep saying “I do” throughout the highs and lows of married life and that never can be a constant bed of flowers without constant tenderness, pruning, cutting back and re-growth.

“Do you feel any better”, I asked

“I do” she says

“I do too”  Do you fancy an ice-cream?

My next blog will be: Hiking

William Defoe

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Earlier this week I wrote a post on the effects of Shy Bladder Syndrome on my daily life.

On reflecting on what I had written in that post,  I felt that I had missed a key element of my experience, so here is Paruresis 2!

I am quite sure that my experience of Paruresis is anxiety related, but I am less clear about the origins of that fear.

In my earlier post, I described my anxiety as being an innate element of my own persona which I was not able to overcome as a child.

In my adolescent years, two further factors contributed to my anxiety at perhaps the worst possible time as I transitioned from boy to man.

The first was my own pre-occupation with size. This fear originated in the boisterous exchanges in the male changing rooms which I was unable to deal with.

There is absolutely no problem with the size of my male equipage but I think I believed that there was, and that was an inner belief, coupled with the fear of ridicule which caused me to be anxious on top of my innate anxiety.

Secondly, there was the accusation that men who could not pee in the communal urinals was gay.

I suffered from accusations of being gay at school (an all boys school) from being about aged 13 to 16.

I did not feel at that time that I was gay and in fact I aspired to be married and have children.

There must have been something in my outward disposition and sensitivity which brought me to the attention of the bullies and the result was that:

I failed to thrive;

I failed to explore;

I failed to connect;

and periods of intense anxiety about whether I could succeed in the world were a feature of my life at this time.

As a young adult, now gaining confidence in the company of men in social situations, I would have to feign agreement with the others at the banter that those who could not pee together must be gay.

This banter was a febrile generalization not directed at another, but the effect on me internally was an even greater sense of entrapment within my own anxious state.

I was married with two of my three children before I was able to acknowledge to myself that I was in fact gay. It had taken me nearly thirty years to recognise my truth and it would take a further twenty years for me to confront it and accept it.

I am now equipped with a fuller sense of my identity, I am confident, I successful, I have been able to stay in my marriage, I have three grown up children who are making their way in the world and yet Paruresis persists but I am better able to manage it.

I am quite sure that this condition has nothing to do with being small or gay. It is connected to being anxious and insecure and is a social condition not a sexual one.

It is my hope in relating these insights into my experience that someone, somewhere will be able to be relieved from their own suffering and know that they are not alone.

My next blog will be: I Want You To Make Me Feel Safe

William Defoe

 

 

I’ve noticed in recent months how often my foot snags on the hem of my underwear as I get dressed each day after my morning shower.

It can take me three attempts for my foot to find the sock hole or the shoe.

My typing skills have diminished so that I often hit the key to the left or right of the key I am aiming for when, a few years ago, I was a fluent speed typist.

I don’t feel concerned about my motor-neurone health, but the thought has fleetingly crossed my mind.

I think that my lack of precision is a sign of natural aging, perhaps a propensity to rush or perhaps that my underwear is too small!

The interesting thought process resulting from this lack of precision is my frustration with it.

I have a tendency to react inwardly when I begin to lurch to the left as my foot gets stuck in my underpants. I might even exclaim outwardly as I fear hitting the floor if I do not save myself in time.

A sense of angst as the words I form  in my mind, as I write my blog, appear in letters which are out of order or mis-spelled, to the point that I cannot recall what the actual word was that I had intended to type.

When I catch myself reacting negatively to my lack of precision, I have taught myself to smile, an inward smile.

Ah, it’s my friend that I call “slow-down”

Take your time, William;

Be more measured William;

Consider your response;

Be prepared to wait;

Think before you speak;

These are the virtues that my lack of precision has brought to me in my journey of self-development.

To acknowledge my  lack of precision is to be less reactive, to be less presumptuous, to be less judgmental and if my response to it, is an inward smile, then I am acknowledging how things are, rather than how I might want them to be, in this present moment.

My next blog will be: Paruresis 2

William Defoe

 

I am currently 53 years old.

I have experienced a condition, I have only recently come to know as “paruresis” for as long as I can recall.

Paruresis is more commonly known as “shy bladder” and it is a condition which I link to my lack of confidence and anxious nature.

It means that if I visit a public convenience to relieve my bladder, I cannot do so if there is another man stood alongside me.

It can be very embarrassing because as I enter a public convenience, be it in the workplace or a pub etc, then I run the risk of having to stand there, looking into space with absolutely no chance that the flow will commence.

I had no choice but to tell my wife, years ago about it because, quite often after coming out of the facilities, unrelieved, I will have to go back in a few moments later and see if the coast is clear – nightmare!

I want to tell you that the origins of this condition are as a result of the school bullies who had a great opportunity to corner less strong boys and hit them in the relatively quiet and private space of the school toilets, but this is not the cause for me.

The truth is, that although I did get an occasional thump in the toilets as a young boy, I believe that my anxiety is innate within my personality and it was this lack of confidence which made it difficult for me to make friends with boys of my own age as a child and drew me to the attention of the bullies.

As I got older, the threats of violence were gone, but the difficulty in passing urine in a public space has never left me.

In recent years, I have noticed improvements, so for example, if the flow has started and a man enters the urinals I can continue, at one time it would have stopped immediately mid-flow.

Also, if I enter a public urinal and a man is stood a few places away and there is a porcelain barrier to each urinal stall then I can get the flow started.

If a man, turns on the tap to wash his hands, then if I concentrate hard on the water splashing into the basin, I can sometimes establish my own flow.

The sound of the noisy hand dryers which continue after the person has stopped using them is also a help for distracting me from my embarrassment and helps me to establish the flow.

The water and hand dryer noise makes me think of my paruresis condition a bit like that of a person who suffers with a speech impediment – a stutter.

In the film “The Kings Speech” the King George VI (may he rest in peace great and noble man) is able to speak fluently when music is played into his ears through headphones – yes indeed, my problems at the urinal are very very similar and have, I believe,  the same origins in a nature which lacks confidence or is anxious.

Paruresis is for me a daily problem, but one which on the whole, I can manage – and manage it I do by having a strategy to help me:

Never following another man into a urinal

Going into a cubicle rather than standing at the urinal,  if either a man is already stood at the urinal, or if there are only a small number of urinals situated in close proximity.

Never going into the urinal with friends – this can be awkward because quite often at the end of the evening before leaving a party etc, I can find myself having to pretend that I don’t want to urinate when of course I do.

Washing my hands when entering the urinals and coming out without urinating – quite embarrassing.

Seeking out quieter facilities if I know that there is a choice of facilities in the building e.g if I am at work.

These are the methods I engage to manage this emotional difficulty and I wanted to share them with you, because I believe that to accept self, is to love self and it is through my writing about my joys and hopes and successes and difficulties that I am able to feel fulfilled.

My next blog will be: Lacking Precision

William Defoe

 

 

I have always considered my leanings in life to have been at odds with the pioneer gay singer, Jimmy Somerville.

When I was a teenager, confused and lacking in maturity to investigate and appreciate my gay sexuality, his outwardly gay lyrics seemed to me to be in direct conflict with my aspirations to conform to the ideals of my church and my family and my own deep longings to be a husband and a father.

Even my political views were out of kilter with his.

Now, in my fifties, my wife having bought me a CD of all his music from “Bronski Beat” through the “Communards” to his solo work, I have been mesmerized by his beautiful falsetto voice and his lyrics which have in some cases brought me to tears.

I think I have discovered something wonderful, through working constantly to maintain my acceptance for my gay sexuality, whilst at the same time endeavoring to remain true to the vows I made to my wife thirty years ago.

My development has created within me a capacity to engage with, and enjoy, and revel, in my truth without fear, and to acknowledge it by hearing songs which celebrate the love of men for each other and mourn over their loss.

And also at this time, I was recently affected deeply by the repeat of a 2007 drama called “The Street” written by Jimmy McGovern, in which a demolition man, married with two teenage children is seduced by a colleague during an overnight stay in a twin bedded hotel room.

The seducer, saw in this man a vulnerability which had been suppressed and hidden all his life.

Of course this deep routed fear of being exposed resonated very deeply with me.

The outcome of this drama became quite complex and harrowing for the demolition man as his secret relationship became known to his colleagues and then to his wife and children through a set of circumstances over which he had no control.

The moving element for me, was that he wanted to stay with his wife, but under a new understanding of his truth, of his fidelity and of her forgiveness for his affair.

So my summer has been enhanced with the wonderful work of these two creative “Jimmy (s)” which have helped me to maintain my own connection to my truth and my acceptance of it.

My next blog will be: Paruresis

William Defoe