“I know exactly where it is. It’s in the basement! Put your big boy pants on and go get it. You can build it before I’m back tomorrow. Have a good night, only one more sleep until I’m back in your arms.” A blown kiss was the last sound before the connection ended and I hadn’t responded in any way at all. I felt numb.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There it was. The confirmation of what I already knew. It was in the basement! I had searched everywhere, even the darkest corners of the loft, having taken the risk of balancing across the beams. That was nothing compared to where I had to go now: down the steps and into the room beneath the kitchen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The hair stands up down my arms, and a shiver runs down my spine. A hot flush rises from my heart. Which was pumping hard. Way too fucking hard. My vision swims, as my balance disappears like the tide from the shore, and I stagger to the kitchen worktop. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Remember to breathe, I tell myself. That always helps; get some air into your lungs. I force my breathing deeper. Longer. In for four. Out for six. I focus on the feeling of my stomach rising and falling, slowing my heart, turning off my thoughts. The oxygen races around my body, flooding my muscles and firing up my brain. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Eyes focusing, I’m back in the room. Where I’m not is back in the basement. Yet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As much as I love my wife, I hate it when she says stupid things like pulling up my big boy pants. A ridiculous, overly used statement that puts pressure on men to be brave. To keep it all in and not to show emotion. Having had the same bullshit in school, it had stuck: I never cried, rarely asked for help, never showed weakness. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
My throat catches as I remember the last time I cried. It was here. In this house. In the basement. It won’t happen again, I tell myself. Come on, dickhead, you’re no longer ten. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
One giant breath for Jonny, one giant step for a bravery medal. No time like the present, let’s get this done! Is my fear of the cellar bigger than the ridicule I’ll get from Nancy? She’d taken Mum away for the night so that I could find the bloody thing and build it before they get back tomorrow. What an amazing surprise, we said. What a bloody nightmare, I say. Why did it have to be down there? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
One breath. Two. My brain swims out to sea again and I realise I’m on the verge of hyperventilating. Too shallow. Come on, you know this stuff. BREATHE IN: One. Two. Three. Four. OUT: One. Two. Three. Fourfivesix. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It won’t happen again. Not if you take precautions. Surely I can nail this. A full-grown married man. I can surely pretend to be an adult for two minutes. That’s all it’ll take. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dragging a chair to the basement door, I put a hand on the cold metal latch and touch it for the first time in over twenty years. It hasn’t changed at all. The exact same huge locking mechanism, a latch on this side of the door. My hand refuses to move, apart from shaking. Another breath in, I close my eyes and drag my arm upwards, releasing the lock, and I pull the heavy wooden door wide open. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The cold air rushes over me like a spectre from a grave, forcing me to cough away the mustiness. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Shoving the kitchen chair against the door, I block its escape. The weight of it scrapes the chair backwards, so I grab another and place it on top as I force the door wide open again. Checking the wall at the top of the basement stairs still had no light switch, I knew that Mum hadn’t put electricity into the forsaken room below. I would need as much light as possible. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
On came the big light in the hallway. It’s glare adding to the kitchens under-cupboard lamps. And that was when I spotted the Welsh dresser. Perfect. I grabbed its handle and ignored the squeal as I dragged it in front of the open cellar oak door, blocking its return. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Switching my phone torch on, I looked over my hastily constructed blockade and breathed deeply, happy with the result. For good measure, I gave the door a quick tug. It didn’t move. Standing behind it, I pushed hard. It still didn’t move. Two chairs and the antique cupboard had formed a wedge. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Happy with the result, I peered over them and into the gloom below. The stone steps disappeared, and the darkness swallowed any and all of the light as it disappeared around the bend. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Time to pull on my big boy pants then, I thought, with a grimace that was as fake a smile as I had ever done. Decades of denial and refusal to go over this threshold were about to be broken. The time is now. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
One breath. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Two. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
And one for the king. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I held the last one as I vaulted over the dresser, landing at the top of the brick staircase. The descending tunnel of doom. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
FUCK IT!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
DO IT YOU WIMP.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And I did it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I strode down into the darkness, torch held in front, banishing the demons, expecting to hear a crash and clatter behind me as the doorway closed. I heard nothing apart from my lungs and my heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Only when I reached the bottom did I dare look at the top of the stairs. The chairs still stood upright, crammed against the door, which was now out of sight. Mum’s best crockery in the dresser was acting as an anchor to keep that door still. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I twirled around and searched for the reason I had so bravely forced myself to come down those ancient steps. And there it was in all its glory. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Too big to wrestle up those stairs with the torch in my hand, I made the bravest decision ever and put the phone away. Its light banished to the inside of my jeans pocket. My heart was hammering away like it was a stake attacking a vampire. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Almost there…. come on, you’ve got this. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Top of the stairs. I thrust the prize through the gap and onto the tiled hall floor. One of the chairs is knocked aside as I force it over the dresser and the heavy door moves towards me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I scream and launch myself through the gap, knocking the remaining chair to the floor. The door slams into the dresser, but it doesn’t shut. It remains open. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I lie on the floor looking at my nemesis. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The door of hell that has so often plagued my dreams. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Is open. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It didn’t shut on me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wasn’t trapped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For hours and hours as had previously happened. No-one to hear my screams and no way of opening the door from the inside. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mouth edges up at the sides, a smile creeping onto my face as a laugh bubbles from my throat. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
And then I let it all go. I cried, sobbing until my shirt was wet. It felt good to cry like a girl. Another shit saying that had also been part of the lock-and-key that kept my feelings hidden, diminished, asleep. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
As I wept, I realised something quite amazing had happend. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had unleashed my demons with each tear, each salty eruption emanating from my soul, giving life to a world of emotion. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was ok to feel. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I felt amazing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had overcome my biggest fear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And had unlocked my true self. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wasn’t just a boy or a man anymore. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was a true soul. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
“I know exactly where it is. It’s in the basement! Put your big boy pants on and go get it. You can build it before I’m back tomorrow. Have a good night, only one more sleep until I’m back in … Continue reading