Another black night of prowling insomniaÖ there doesn't appear to be any recognisable cause for it other than the random hours I keep. I have endured occasional bouts of insomnia throughout my life - as early as 11, I was sleepwalking before I went to the 'big' school. I would wake up in the morning, a little groggy, and my mum and dad would tell me how I came downstairs, sat with them, and talked with them quite coherently for an hour before going back to bed. The thing is, I had no recollection whatsoever of doing it.

Still, it beats what my brother did ñ once ñ when he was sleepwalking; but it would be unfair of me to mention that here. At least, not until I've had a chance to blackmail him over it ;0)

Most of those phases of disturbed sleep can be attributed to changes in my life: new school, new job, first mortgage, the arrival of the Ava-beast; but I'm damned if I can fathom what the root cause this time is. Maybe it's a result of the Akira the Don / Sigur Ros incident a couple of weeks' back ;0) Maybe it's the long, intense hours I worked putting this new website together. Maybe it's the shift in seasons. Probably it's all of those factors and a lot more, all stewed together in a sauce of too much Guinness and over-stimulation.

Pardon my pomposity, but I think it's important to write about these things here. When you suffer a bout of insomnia or anxiety for the first time, it can be a horrendous, alienating and incapacitating experience. Maybe someone will stumble across this page during a desperate, bleary morning google and the knowledge that someone else felt the same way, and learnt ñ for the most part ñ to live with it, deal with it and control it, will offer a little of the comfort that I couldn't find anywhere. The untalked about truth is that millions of people feel like this, right now; we ñ and especially the 'we' who are males ñ are just pretty shit at talking about it. As if it's a tacit admission of weakness or mental incapacity. It ain't. To my mind ñ and I've given this a lot of thought over the years ñ anxiety, and the resultant insomnia, are the product of strong minds - active minds ñ that have been working too hard and need a rest. More accurately, need to learn how to rest.

Both anxiety and insomnia seem to feed on each other, and feed each other. Eleven years' ago ñ just as I was starting to present Revolution - I ended up on a course of Librium after my first bout of uncontrollable anxiety. I thought I was going mad. I was terrified. I had this crazy black knot in my stomach all of the time, and I felt as if I was trapped in a gluey haze. I can be melodramatic at times [no shit!], but I really did think I was going to end up in a padded cell, tranquilised out of my enormous bonce.

It's interesting to note, well after the fact, that during that period I didn't miss a single day of workÖ I blew out an interview with Saint Etienne [which I regret now], but I did manage to function and fulfil my responsibilities even though I felt I was in the middle of this uncontrollable hurricane.

Everything looked and sounded weird. I had to stop listening to music because it unsettled me. Can you imagine? The faces on the TV screen looked grotesque and monstrous. The thought of having to make a phonecall almost disabled me with fear. I remember, with the kind of clarity that doesn't usually etch my memories, lying in bed in my ex-girlfriend's house in MoldÖ the house was deserted, her window was open, and I just couldn't take this endless, knackering assault on myselfÖ I felt an incredibly powerful urge to throw myself out of that window. It wasn't a whim or a moment of angst-ridden self-indulgence. I coldly weighed up the pro's and con's, and I decided not to do it. Thank god! I seem to remember the deciding factor was that I didn't want someone to have to clean me up off the yard three floors' below. You see, even in the darkest depths of selfishness, I was still thinking about other people ;0)

I remember my G.P. at the time ñ this whole episode was in 1993 ñ telling me that I would probably be thinking very strange thoughts, that that was a common symptom of anxiety. Dead right! I would see a drawer full of sharp knives and be convinced that I was going to pick one up and stab all of the people I lovedÖ I couldn't do the washing up for about three months, which ñ in retrospect ñ probably sounds like a bad excuse to be lazy, but even I wouldn't sink myself that low.

These fantasies of being terrified of harming others are common amongst over anxious people. You fear losing control and the very worst manifestation of that is the thought that you might hurt ñ or push away ñ the small circle of people who are left who might be able to help you through your predicament.

It's okay. Things like that terrify you because you're a good person. That's what I told myself, and it worked. Eventually. However, it is imperative that you go and see your GP at that point. I left it too late, and by the time I got some counselling ñ off a community psychiatric nurse who knew less than I did about the subject ñ I was already 'better'. I had learnt enough about anxiety ñ and especially the biochemical side of things ñ for me not to be terrified of it any more; and that helped to break the cycle that I was alluding to earlier, when I said that anxiety and insomnia feed on each other and feed each other. There probably is a root cause for my bouts of anxiety ñ something that I could trace back quite easily, and then realise that it was nothing worth getting that worked up aboutÖ the problem is that after that first experience of being terrified of yourself ñ which is what anxiety feels like, a shadow of fear that follows you everywhere - you become more scared of the anxiety itself than of any of the root causes. So, an incident in your life that would quite naturally increase your stress and adrenaline levels so that you can cope with it ñ moving house, for example ñ soon races out of control because you are more anxious over the possibility of becoming chronically anxious than you are of moving house.

I probably haven't explained that well. No surprises there, then.

It's uncomfortable writing about this. It's not a major factor in my life, by any means. I don't define myself by my 'anxiety', and the thought that this reads like some cod, self-help, psychological tutorial, worries me. The thought that you might be judging me on the basis of this blog also worries me; but I'd rather it was 'out there' for the reassurance it might offer to someone who is going through the self-same experience.

We'll be back to music and mess soon, no doubt. And that's the most valuable lesson. Understand anxiety for what it is ñ an overload of the body's flight mechanism ñ and you can soon control it. I say 'control'Ö I can't control it, otherwise I wouldn't be feeling as shit as I do right now. I know that it's not going to last forever, though. I know that a fortnight of eating well, a few brisk walks, and laying off the caffeine and the alcohol, will soon have me back on an even keel.

Oh, and I really enjoyed last night's show. There were lots of highlights. The Voices, Joya, Halflight, Red Falls and Ectogram all stood out for me. I really enjoyed David Mysterious' session as well. There's lots of promise in that Abersytwythian's fingertips.

The communication into last night's show ñ the e-mails and text messages ñ was a little on the low, inactive side. Just one of those nights, I suppose. Maybe the gig guide was more definitive than normal ;0)

I'm off for a shower and a brisk walk in the rain. Back to the top of the page...