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I could be pretty volatile, especially when I didn't feel understood, which was 99 percent of the time. I do think that, as a young person, I suffered over that. But as I look back, it doesn't even feel like part of me - except when I act and need those emotions. Then I can dredge it up.

I thought I wasn't attractive or talented anymore. I cried easily and was depressed and removed. I became emotionally insecure about what the second half of my life would bring. I was angry, scared, frightened and lonely.

And suddenly I realised that I was no longer driving the car consciously. I was driving it by a kind of instinct, only I was in a different dimension.

The panic of the Depression loosened my inhibitions against being different. I could be myself.

One of the reasons I was so unhappy for years was because I never embraced my emotions and I was trying to stay in control.

I was going mad. One day, I just started writing, and it was like therapy because I was in a position where I couldn't rage. I never expected to be a writer; it's a different world than I ever expected to be in.

When I got to 40 or so... I had the sense when I looked back over my life I would actually see a mess of decisions, a few of which I had thought about, some of which I had sort of stumbled on, and many that I had no control over whatsoever.

For a long time I thought I could deal with my anger and hostility on my own. But I couldn't. I denied that it had affected me, and yet I was so frantic on the inside with other people: I needed to be constantly reassured.