my struggle with my sexuality

I have always shied away from talking about my sexuality. Which is something I have personally and very silently struggled with the majority of my life. Whether it stems from concern of other people’s opinions, my inability to accept myself or a much more deep rooted issue, it took me to the age of twenty seven to finally be able to openly and proudly call myself a member of the LGBTQ+ community.

Growing up gay is never easy for anyone. I can’t really pin-point the exact age or moment I realised my sexuality but I do remember the exact moment I was made to feel different because of it. It was at a school friends birthday party and a group of older boys teased me asking if I was gay or just camp. I had no idea what either of the words meant at the time but they made it seem like such a negative thing. I decided at that moment that I didn’t want to be associated with either of the words so I said no, clueless as to what I was actually saying no to. Unfortunately for me that was just the beginning of the homophobic bullying I would receive growing up.

At school all I craved was to be seen as ‘normal’ but I never really felt like I fit in. I was always an easy target in the classroom, something which followed me from primary school all the way through to high school. There was a group of older boys in particular who decided they had an issue with me very early on. They would hit me, choke me to the point where I felt I couldn't breathe, throw things at me, take my belongings all whilst calling me every gay slur in the book. I grew up very shy and insecure as a direct result of the torment I received as a child. I grew up feeling like I had very little friends, would constantly be incredibly anxious about large social events and it formed the apprehension I have when making friends with other males in fear of being treated in a similar manner.

I never told my parents, friends or teachers about the homophobic bullying I received on a continuous basis. I felt embarrassed, I felt weak, I felt ashamed and I didn’t want to tell anyone as I was scared it would only make the bullying worse. Instead I bottled up my feelings and internalised everything and grew up a very angry child because of it. Filled with rage that people were treating me so badly for something out of my control. Angry at life for being born with what I felt was something wrong with me. I started acting out at school and took my anger out on teachers and other pupils and looking back at it unintentionally became a bit of a bully myself. Which is humiliating thinking about as an adult. I am genuinely so sorry to the teachers, people at school, my parents and anyone else I hurt and had to put up with my bad behaviour. I guess I did it because acting up in class made people laugh and somehow in a roundabout way it made me feel more accepted.

After leaving home I only dated women as I felt that it was what I should be doing. It wasn’t until I moved to London in my early twenties that I had my first experience with men. It was terrible to say the least. I met him online and we seemed to really get on. He asked if I wanted to go round to his house to watch a film. I am not naive, I knew that he probably had other intentions but he did say I didn’t have to do anything if I didn’t want to. This I was naive enough to believe. When I got to his house he looked considerably older than his photos and had clearly lied about his age. I should have left then but I had never been in a situation like that before and didn’t know how to handle it. I used his bathroom and locked myself in there not wanting to leave. When I opened the door he was standing in his bedroom completely undressed. I panicked. He was forward, aggressive and made me do things that I didn’t want to do. When I did say no he forced himself on me, telling me that it’s what I wanted. Which brings up a whole other topic of conversation about consent. If someone tells you they don't want to have sex with you do not touch them. Thankfully the thought of forcing himself on me was too much for him to handle and it was over before it had even started. I got a lucky escape. The experience did leave a mark on me though and for a long time made me too afraid to try anything with men again.

A year later I met my first boyfriend. I was in the closet still throughout the relationship which he was incredibly supportive and understanding about. I kept him a secret from everyone in my life as I was too afraid of how coming out would affect me and didn’t feel ready for the change. One day a friend happened to see us together and I received a message from her. Although I had a melt down at the time I knew that it was only meant as a conversation starter to let me know that I could talk to her and I did. I opened up to her and it was the first time I told anyone that I’m attracted to men and heard myself say those words out loud. With her help it gave me the courage to tell one of our other friends about my sexuality. They both became my support mechanism through my struggle with accepting myself. Although the relationship was a happy and healthy one, it was not destined to last forever but I am lucky enough to still call him one of my closest friends. I will be forever grateful for the love and support the three of them gave me during a time when I felt I had no one else.

What seems to be a running theme for me is as I grew a little confidence something would always come along to push me back into the closet. One night I was walking home holding my boyfriend's hand. Walking towards us were two men who seemed to be infatuated with us, constantly staring. I started to feel uncomfortable so we walked on the other side of the pavement to avoid walking directly past them. The tallest of the two changed direction, walking between us separating our hands. Everything else happened so quickly. I was shoved. Kicked. Punched in my jaw. Thrown on top of a car which knocked the wind out of me. I was terrified. Being a victim of a hate crime doesn’t just leave you with physical bruises, it damages you mentally as well. Sadly for me I never had the confidence to hold my boyfriend's hand in public again.

Even though I felt happier in certain aspects of my life I could never gain the courage to tell the rest of my friends, colleagues or family about what I was going through. In the end I distanced myself from everyone as it felt easier for me to be completely alone than have to tell them the truth. This was very damaging to my mental health which had been deteriorating for years as I silently suffered from depression. I can not put into words how physically and mentally draining it is to look in the mirror hating the person staring back at you. I have lost count of the number of times I have broken down, cried and wished that I was anyone other than myself. I quietly suffered with suicidal thoughts as I struggled to accept my sexuality and felt so cripplingly lonely from shutting everyone out. Those thoughts nearly beat me.

From that first relationship and when it ended I really started to grow into myself and made some major progress. I never realised just how sad I was making myself with all the self hatred until I reached a point where I wasn’t sad anymore. I finally felt like I was confident enough to tell my parents about my sexuality which I had been dreading doing ever since I was a child. I couldn’t really have asked for more. They were so incredibly supportive the same way that they have always been. I suddenly didn’t know why I had been so scared to say it for so many years. It actually felt like a complete non-event. Not that I expected rainbow coloured streamers to cascade from the ceiling but it marked an important mile-stone for me.

Then COVID19 hit. I already felt lonely and isolated from my friends due to my struggles with my sexuality but the pandemic made it feel so much worse. When I was feeling particularly vulnerable I met someone new and got myself into the most toxic relationship I have ever been in. I really tried to go into the new relationship with a fresh head but I let myself down as I fell into old habits and used the same lies about my sexuality to make myself feel more comfortable. I probably made some other mistakes and I am sure it wasn’t much fun to date someone that was struggling with depression but this does not excuse the lying, manipulation, gaslighting and emotional abuse I receive when being in a relationship with him. Through his jealousy and possessiveness he ruined some of my friendships and despite having a boyfriend I had never felt more alone. I started not being able to control my emotions again but this time I noticed the warning signs of depression so was much more aware. Eventually, I ended the relationship as it turned out as we were looking to move in together he had been messaging other men on Grindr. I briefly gave him another chance as at that moment I was helplessly in love with him. This equally turned out to be a waste of time. While he said he loved me and wanted to work on our relationship, in reality he was just stringing me along while progressing another relationship with someone else. Playing us against each other and sleeping with us both. I will never understand what he was thinking but as time moved on I’ve learnt it is impossible to rationalise the irrational thoughts of others.

Although that relationship was toxic it had some beauty amongst the chaos. I knew it was finally time to tell my friends and other people in my life about my sexuality and I used the break up as an excuse to post very publicly on social media that I had broken up with him. A subtle way of telling everyone I had been dating men without having to say “Ta Da! I’m gay”. For anyone who reached out to me after this you will never know how much your simple words of kindness meant to me. I am sorry if you ever felt I was a bad friend or didn’t care. It was just easier for me to push people away than accept the truth.

After struggling with my sexuality for so long I am at a point where I feel like I am truly happy. If I could give any advice to anyone that is going through the same thing it would be that the first part of being content with your own sexuality is accepting yourself. Don’t bottle up your emotions, talk to people. It’s definitely the hardest part for a lot of us, it was for me, but if you truly learn to love yourself the people around you will follow.

It feels fitting to share what I have been struggling with internally for so long as Pride Month comes to a close. A month to reflect on the stonewall riots and recognise the impact of the LGBTQ+ community. I sometimes hear people question why pride is important and I will tell you. Pride is important because somewhere there is a child like me who wishes they were dead rather than accepting their sexuality. Pride is important because in some countries laws prevent people from being who they truly are. Pride is important because even in 2021 we still are not treated as equals and are discriminated against because of our sexuality. Pride is important because it lets us know that we are not alone and we are supported by others in the community as well as our allies. I will never understand homophobia and why some people feel the need to be so involved in someone else's life and how they choose to live it. The world is already filled with so much destruction and pain, so let’s just be kind to one another.