Looking looking back to walk forward

My little blog has received a little attention recently firstly following some promotion by BBC Radio 1Xtra's wonderful Adele Roberts as part of 1Xtra stories "Coming Out" which gave me a bit of confidence that what I had written wasn't utter trash and prompted me to submit my blog to rucomingout.com where it has since featured on the May 2013 page of stories. I just hope it can be of use to others in similar situations.

As I said in my very first post, I wrote this blog for my own sanity and to put down in black an white what happened and how my relationship with my family was turned upside-down. I wanted to use the blog as a sounding board for my own thoughts and a way of reasoning my feelings about the whole situation. I don't regret for one moment having come out to my family even though at times I feel so alone and unsupported in the world (usually after an argument with my wonderful wife) because I no longer feel my family would support me "no matter what" the way I once took for granted. That having been said I know I have my partners family, my friends and extended family who don't take my parents view and don't think my being gay makes me bad or unlovable or that I have done it (be gay) on purpose as punishment to them. It has taken me a very long time to come to terms with my family's reaction and to a certain degree I don't think I will ever understand it. There were a few key moments that made me stop and think and revise my position a little along the way so I thought I'd share some of them.

The first was in the wake of my initial coming out saga, during my sofa surfing days; I remember snarling about my family's reaction at work one day when things were still really bad and being shocked when the finance lady turned to me and said something along the lines of "well your parents are entitled to their opinion, they don't have to like or agree with you being gay, its their right to disapprove, you have to give them time to come to terms with it, it might not be a quick process and you should be prepared for whatever their decision is". I was used to people telling me how awful my parent's reaction was and how I should give it time and they would come round. To say this statement pulled me up short was an understatement. This lady's daughter was a lesbian and she had talked of how she fully supported her and loved her to bits. I remember her words confusing me and thinking about them a lot and trying to work out what she meant by it. I started off by thinking maybe she hadn't been ok with her daughter coming out to start with and thinking that she might be suggesting there may be hope my parent's would change their view too. Over time though, I think I have a better understanding of what she may have meant and if I'm right then I'm incredibly grateful she said it, I think this was her way of preparing me for never getting the acceptance I desperately wanted but giving me something to blame the lack of acceptance on that wasn't me. Her statement prompted me to open up the possibility in my head that their reaction wasn't my fault; that I could blame their reaction on their own beliefs and values and that my being gay just didn't fit with that. I think her words planted a seed that took years to grow but with the sometimes rather direct insight of my beautiful wife has helped me shift the blame I'd held on to.

The next came in the early days of my relationship with my wife. I think I was still lying about my whereabouts to my parents and claiming to be out with "friends" rather than my new girlfriend. I had, to a certain degree, re-closeted myself for an easier life, I wasn't strong enough to "do battle" on my whereabouts or the company I was keeping. For as long as I can remember I was expected to do what was expected of me without question, to ensure that my mother was not upset or hurt by my actions and I had learned to manage my own problems because sharing was rarely caring. I should probably explain the last one a little more. I remember being little probably 7 or 8 and telling my mum I was being picked on in school, her reaction was not to offer comfort and strategy but to cry with me about how awful it was that her child was being bullied. Here starteth the lesson that in my house at least, a problem shared was usually a problem doubled. I guess this might explain why I find it hard not to blame myself for the hurt of others. I was having one of my regular, "my dad has text me saying my mum is upset/worried and I should go" moments when my wife (then new girlfriend) asked why that meant I had to go home. Why was it my problem that my mum missed me or was sad or upset? I don't think I could answer, I think I probably mumbled something like "it just does" before hightailing it home for the latest round of interrogation about my whereabouts. I remember thinking all the way home about the questions, I didn't know why its was up to me, it had just always been that way, is difficult for me and it is something that I think my wife finds incredibly frustrating when even now, I feel guilty when my mum is upset even though I know its not my fault. My wife helped me begin to ask questions, helped me feel angry and not be guilty about it and more than that helped me stop and take time to find who I was without all the duty and expectation and guilt.

and then there was a wedding

So over the past 7 years my partner and I have had our ups and downs and my/our relationship with my family has marginally improved from the early days but is still very strained. On the positive side, my partner is now allowed in to my parents house and they will have conversations with her that are civil, they occasionally visit our home, normally under the condition they help out in the garden and we go out with them and my grandparents regularly for family meals, although these must be in areas where they aren't well known. But there are still many down sides, they still don't accept or acknowledge our relationship nor do they make any attempt to, I am frowned upon for being seen in the "village" I grew up in for fear (my parents fear) that people may guess what I am and bring further shame on the family, oh and the small matter of our recent marriage that my parents are somewhat unaware of.

I say somewhat because I did actually tell them I was going to be getting married; a couple of months before we booked the venue I emailed my parents to let them know of our upcoming civil partnership and asking if they felt that they and/or my grandparents would be interested in attending. I know it sounds strange to say I emailed about something so important but experience has taught me that many things I say get lost in translation by my parents so it is always better to put things in writing to avoid confusion. Take the story of my coming out... my parents believe it was only me doing any shouting and screaming, none ever laid a hand on me and that they were supportive in trying to help me find help to work through my "issues" (in the form of attempting to force me to seek psychiatric help to "fix" me). So I have learnt from previous attempts at communication that black and white is always better. It took 6 weeks of me ignoring text messages from my family (in an attempt at forcing a response) before my dad finally called to say how much my lack of contact was affecting my mother, to which my response included a comment about waiting for a reply to my email. My dad's reply... "well you know I don't answer things like that, that's what conversations are for". So after some discussion and tongue biting on my part I agreed to meet him at a service station on both our routes home from work. Having asked that my partner be there I was met with, "no I just want to talk to you".

Slightly suspicious and feeling incredible nervous and sick, I met my dad in a well know coffee chain and explained the proposed date of the wedding, the venue and my desire to have my family attend. The response I received was sadly another rejection to add to the pile. My dad's first response was that he was unable to give me any money towards a wedding, something I had never even mentioned and would've never expected. I explained that the money for the wedding had already been sorted and that I was only asking that he and my family may like to attend. What followed next included remarks about my partner being controlling, me needing to ask permission to do anything from her first, how getting married should not be a priority for me right now because I had other things to think about and how my family were deeply religious people and I was putting them in a very difficult position. I explained my stance on our marriage, defended my partner's honor in relation to not being controlling and the asking for permission (in the form of "are we doing anything on... mum and dad have asked if we'd like to go to....") was actually diary checking. I was then informed that he and my mum had spoken to my grandparents and neither sets of them could "see the point" in my getting married and apparently felt it was not an important event. By this point I was finding it more difficult to manage my temper and proposed that my parents think further if they wanted to attend and let me know. I would  not put pressure on them as I understood this was difficult for them and so would wait for a response from them.

I'm still waiting.

I made the decision not to offer a formal wedding invitation to my parents as by that point and having had no further discussion about the wedding I had come to the difficult conclusion that having them there out of duty (which is what I felt their attendance would be if they were to come) would just cause me further stress and pain and I wanted our special day to be about us and celebrating our relationship with the people who supported and cared for us.  The lead up to the wedding was also strange as the many things I had imagined about getting married were different, no mum to come to my fittings with the dressmaker, no dad to give me away, no anticipation for the father of the bride's speech or introductions to the in-laws. My partner was amazing, giving me time to just have my moments and filling the rest with excitement, friends and my in-laws who gave hugs and knowing looks, just when they were needed most.

The wedding went ahead as planned on the date discussed with my dad and was the most wonderful day of my life. We were surrounded by people who cared and supported us and our relationship and who were able to celebrate with us the commitment we were making to each other. My partner's whole family including her nan (who's in her 80's) attended and my friends became my family yet again, the aforementioned best friend giving me away and my overseas cousins showing their support to me by flying in for our special day, a gesture so significant I wont ever be able to explain or repay it. It was amazing and I loved every second of it, and stand by the decisions I made about my parents attendance. Beyond the celebration of love and commitment to each other our wedding day also represented a peace of mind that were anything to happen to me, my partner would be the one making the decisions about my care, my death and my funeral. One of the biggest fears I had held until then was that if anything had happened to me, my parents would likely deny my partner any involvement and even refuse her entry to my funeral, our civil partnership makes her my next of kin and makes the decisions legally hers.

The beginning of happier times

The girl I met online 3 days before my 23rd birthday turned out to be the love of my life. She had a totally different perspective on life and with the help of a little of her tough love, a lot of laughs and knowing she was behind me every step of the way. I learned to like myself a little more and began to realise that not everything that had happened was my fault.

After what happened the last time I told my family I was dating it took me 9 months to tell them about my new relationship. I said nothing about my "gay" life, I continued to hide who I was while in the presence of my family or people my family may know. I stayed out more and more and eventually only went "home" for a couple of nights once every few weeks after multiple "can't you see how you are hurting your mother" calls from my dad. I used the excuse of staying with friends or going to parties or working away until one weekend while staying over with my girlfriend at the rented house we shared, I got a text from my parents asking why my car (with its distinctive personal registration plate) was parked outside a row of terraced houses in a nearby town. I panicked my heart began to race and I felt like I was going to pass out. I went "home" to face the music and was accused of using my friends to lie for me and that my "lifestyle choices" having made me a liar and dishonest. Even at this point I couldn't bring myself to challenge these views and assumptions. They asked why I was there and I explained that I had been dating for 9 months and that was the house my girlfriend lived in. I packed a few more things and before the "conversation" could decend into comments about my "gay uniform", "cocky attitude", "lack of attention to my appearance" (which was short for no longer wearing makeup), "the paedophillic tenancies of people of "that" lifestyle" (apparently if you fall in love with someone of the same sex this also means you have a desire for children of this gender too, according to my mother) and "dangerous lifestyle choice".

After 18months together, buying our first home and getting our first dog, (all things my family missed), my parents finally agreed to meet my partner. We went for a walk in a local park with our new puppy and their dog. They said barely 2 words to my partner and could hardly look at me but as far as I was concerned it was progress. Little did I know after 7 years things would be not all that much further on.

And so life went on

Well, the next few weeks consisted of nights spent of various friends sofas while commuting to my part time jobs, trying to maintain my uni attendance and visiting my then girlfriend. It was so strange, it felt weird, I felt so alone. I told little of the true horrors to anyone, my friends knew I was going through a tough time with my family but few of them knew I was sofa surfing and living out of my car, I would make excuses about being too tired to drive or suggest girly nights with a bottle of wine to avoid needing to be honest about needing a place to stay. I was embarrassed, stupid as it sounds now, I thought they would think less of me if they knew the truth.

Eventually the time came for my family to go and visit relatives overseas, my family wanted to keep up appearances and didn't want to have to explain my absence so I was allowed to go along but was advised not to discuss "my lifestyle choice" with anyone and to pretend like we were a happy family for the 2 week holiday. As it happened this was not all that difficult because as soon as we arrived I was off with my cousins and saw little of my parents. I fained sleep for the duration of the flights and car journey home and by the time the trip was over my parents had relented on the idea of me living back at home. Although by this point it was apparently me who had decided to leave and they had had nothing to do with my departure and had never called me any "offensive" names.

This is how life continued for over a year. Keeping up appearances in front of my extended family, escaping to visit my then girlfriend (who had by this point returned from overseas) at any available opportunity, and spending as long as possible out of the house. My once home had become a place to lay my head and take a shower. I took a job working evenings so I could stay in bed late, head to uni for my afternoon lectures then straight to my evening job resulting in me not arriving home till close till 11pm most evenings and avoiding as much time in the presence of my parents. While completing my masters I was offered the opportunity to go overseas on an aid project and stay a little longer to travel. I jumped at the opportunity and spent a couple of months away during which my mother hoped I would "find myself"or more accurately find my inner heterosexual.

My time away was incredible but needless to say I failed to find my inner heterosexual. I found some greater perspective in life but my return, much to my surprise, sparked the end of my relationship with my then girlfriend which marked the start of some dark times. As you can imagine I received little comfort from my family and lost part of what had become my support network, in the form of friends of hers. My family's response to the news of the break up was to smile and offer the pearl of wisdom, "it obviously wasn't right then" and to never mention the matter again.

During the months that followed I withdrew from my friends, spent most of my time, that I was not in work or at uni, on my own watching movies, listening to music or on the internet. Things were no better with my family and every time my parents looked at me all I could see what how much I had hurt them and how disappointed they were in me. I got to a point where I felt nothing was ever going to improve, I began to self harm and started to plan how I might end my life. I felt I had burdened my friends enough and that everything I did was just causing further hurt to my family. I was drinking heavily, often alone, I stayed up till the early hours and slept till lunch time.

I had come to the end of what I felt I could tolerate and late one evening 3 days before my 23rd birthday, I had decided I could not go on and armed myself with a bottle of wine and a 500pill box of paracetamol. I knew if this was what I wanted I had to make sure I succeeded and intended on starting with some heavy drinking before taking more than double the required dose to end my life (which I had been sure to research in advance). My suicide note was written and ready to print and I was occupying myself in a few online chat rooms as I drank, making bets with myself that I was that unlovable that none would speak to me, when I received a message from a gorgeous younger girl who's picture I had commented on replied. By the time I received her message I was already well oiled and had nothing to loose so was rather bolder than I would normally have been, to my surprise my boldness paid off and we agreed to meet up for a drink the day after my birthday. She had no idea what I'd had planned for that evening or that in a strange way she had just saved my life.

It couldn't get much worse could it?!

Well I woke up on the sofa in my best mate's student house after crying myself to sleep and replaying the previous night over and over in my head trying to work out what I did wrong and how I could have misjudged the situation so badly. I started thinking about the expectations my family had had for me and how disappointed they must be that I had shattered their dreams of what I would be. After hanging out with my best mate while he tried to make me feel better and see I wasn't the one at fault I drove on down to see my then girlfriend who from what I remember, was working till late. I arrived at her house where her landladies answered the door and could clearly see I was in a state. I spent the next couple of hours receiving hugs and talking through the events of the previous night and after enraging "Emily" to the point she wanted to go and treat my family as they had treated me we discussed the possibility that my family would calm down and begin to understand.

I don't remember much of the next few days other than it involved me crying a lot and stressing about my masters coursework. I do however, remember going back to my parents house after being away and having no contact for almost a week. I was running out of clean clothes and needed my uni books so I text my mum to ask permission (yes I felt I needed to ask permission to go home) to collect some stuff and potentially stay for a while to talk stuff over. My mum agreed and I drove the 90mins home to find my dad in the kitchen but no sign of my mum. When I asked where she was he said "on her way back" he was superficially nice and pleaded that I was making the biggest mistake of my life. I defaulted to my teenage response to family arguments and said nothing.

Mum arrived back around this time and I suddenly understood why my dad had been shifty with me. My mum walked into the kitchen telling me how I had shattered her world and how she would not do that to my grandparents. She promptly ushered my grandparents, (both in their 70s) into the kitchen and stood with her hands on her hips shouting at me to tell them my news. Fighting back tears I told my grandparents that I was in a relationship with a woman and watched as my grandma looked at me with disappointment and my grandad turned away. After watching me sqirm my mum took my grandparents home with the parting shot of, wait their we have things to talk about.

She returned 10mins later and threw herself into a rant about how having relationships with women meant that I would never work with children (a life long ambition of mine), how I would be constantly persicuted, never have children and that this was the worst "choice of lifestyle" I could have made. My dad went on to explain that in his 30 years in business he had never once met a gay person. (hmmmm) He also went on to explain how most people tollerate gays but started quoting "NIMBY"... yeah it was new to me too... Not In My Back Yard. Apparently gays are ok at a distance but not if they live next door or are part of your family. I was determined not to show how much I hurt or to cry and from what I remember I stayed strong and never shed one tear. My mum then went on to tell me the intricate details of her depression and the desperate situation she had found herself in when her and my dad were going though a rough patch and pleaded with me that this was the worst thing I could have done. "Was worse than telling her that I was pregnant", I refused to break down and the "discussion" ended with me being pinned to a wall by my jumper by my dad and being told how much what I was doing was hurting and killing my mum.

I quickly packed my bags once again, grabbed a sleeping bag and my uni books and headed back to my best mates sofa for another restless night of replaying things over in my head.

Where it all began.....

Ok, so I started this blog on the advise of a friend who felt that telling my story may not only give me a space to vent about what has happened over the last few years but also may help someone else in a similar situation so here I am writing my first entry on this blog.

I knew I was different from an early age and was bullied on and off for pretty much the whole of my primary and secondary education but this is not a sob story about that it is my take on telling my family something I could never take back and something that changed my relationship with them forever. At college I met some of my first REAL friends and at aged 16 I discovered that a social life and friendship was FAR more interesting than study, (which I regretted age 18 when I picked up my A-Level results). In those 2 years I also struggled to overcome depression, self-harm, and came to understand that the reason I always wanted a particular girl in my class to be my BEST friend was not only for someone to talk to and share the good times but because I wanted some of them to be more than just my friends.

After a holiday fling before I set out to uni, I spent the next three years trying to convince myself that I could pull off the "expected" lifestyle and not have to disappoint my family by telling them who I really was. I managed it for a while and had a nice enough time with the guys I dated who were great mates but there was always something in the back of my mine telling me that something wasn't quite how it should be. It was only after a holiday with a friend just before graduation where I met a girl in a bar and we both clicked that I realised I'd been fooling myself for too long. I went home full of the joys of my holiday romance and the new found confidence in my long hidden identity and decided to finally come out to my family. For the sake of not spoiling a special day I kept my secret till after my graduation ceremony and the family meal that followed and a few days later after feeling sick all day and waiting till the final possible moment before my parents went to bed I finally spat it out.

My exact words were, "well you know when I was on holiday? Well I met someone and, well she's a woman, and I wanted you to know".

Well that sparked a whole catalogue of drama, my mum ran to the toilet and was physically sick, my dad shouted up in my face and once my mum had recovered proceeded to pin me by my throat against the wall and shout about how rediculous I was.

I had been brought up to treat people as I hoped to be treated, I had a singing teacher who was openly gay, my mum had friends from college who were a lesbian couple, my family knew my closest friend was a gay man, homosexuality was nothing new! To say I was shocked by the response I recieved is an understatement and as the ranting continued I made the decision to up and leave my parents house and seek refuge at my best friend's student house while I let them digest the bombshell. Driving through sobbs, hyperventling and shaking I was welcomed by the greatest guy in the world with a bottle of wine, a pizza and a huge hug. Little did I know this was not the worst day of this whole saga and acceptance was a long way off.