This week I went back to the well and the well wasn’t dry. The British Red Cross, whose occupational health officer, told me I was “emotionally weak” was wrong. I have found reserves I forgotten I had. And I am proud I am still able to commit to giving everything of myself when the need arises.

I’m not weak. I’m the world’s strongest man, at least for today. I may not have been yesterday when I was down and you kicked me, but once more I had my day in the sun. Although it may have only been a been a day, there was a glimpse of the man I always wanted to be all of the time. I thought maybe he had gone. I know he’s alive and kicking.

Today, in the darkest hour before the dawn, I lay awake doubting myself, convinced I had nothing left to give, my future as bleak as much of the past. I peered through the gloom, forced myself out of the house and found reserves of energy and self-belief I was told I never had.

The woman who called me “emotionally weak” left me shattered, made me believe I was worthless, that perhaps I deserved the bullying and abuse after all. Yet I am strong. I might have failed in just about everything in life but I’m still standing.

Change is coming. It has to come.