I guess that I am lucky, Very, very lucky. I have a roof over my head, an income, good health, a son and at least one lady who wants to marry me. There is a lot to celebrate.

But lately I have felt both restless and sad. The former I attribute to not having enough work to do. I thrive on being productively busy doing work that is meaningful. So there is simply not enough of that at the moment.

The sadness is more complicated. I have wondered about it. And I realise, having looked within myself repeatedly, that I am not really past the end of my marriage yet. I still have deep regrets about my family being split up. I think that is the root of the sadness I feel. Still grieving, might be another way of putting it.

It's healthy to acknowledge this, I tell myself. And of course it is. I don't want to dwell. I'd rather not stop here for too long. But I know that running away from feelings only enlarges the potential damage that can be done.

It is like travelling from a well-known, much-loved town, one to which you can never return. Somewhere on the outskirts, possibly just past a sleepy satellite village, with the road about to curve into unexplored countryside, you turn back for one last look. You don't have to turn and you don't have to look. But you do. That's where I am. Just taking a glance back on the way I have come.

That's where I think I am, anyway.