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The Struggles That Make Us Who We Are!
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The World does seem to be in a constant state of flux at the moment. The pandemic is still raging across continents, taking lives indiscriminately, creating uncertainty and leaving a trail of death and destruction that will take generations to mitigate. After the death of George Floyd, the 'Black Lives Matter' (human rights organisation) campaign is gathering pace globally, as black people fight for equality and campaign against violence and systematic racism towards black people. And all of us juggle our ever decreasing finances to make ends meet, as unemployment continues to rise, in the wake of COVID-19. These are strange, difficult and thought-provoking times, a period that will be talked about for years to come. The adversities all of us face on a daily basis, do indeed make us who we are and with circumstances the way they are I am reminded of my own battles, many of which I still fight today!
I was always a child who suffered at the hands of bullies. I knew I was gay from about the age of eleven and consequently found it hard to hide who I was. Back in the early 1980s, it was not acceptable to be homosexual and I suffered physically and mentally as a result. When I look back at my school days I shudder at just how bad they were and what I had to do to survive. There was of course an element of lying about who I was, but there was more than that. I knew I was different, found men attractive and couldn't be who I wanted to be, but I was still a young boy growing up at a time of great prejudice, with feelings that were so different to my peers and as a result I became a 'self isolating outcast,' spending the majority of the time on my own, away from others, for fear of being attacked or worse, for who I was.
Of course when one spends too much time on ones own, the real battles outside turn to conflicts in the mind. My mental health became fragile, from an early age, but without the help and support people are accorded today, I tried and failed miserably, to overcome some dark and distressing periods. I often felt deeply depressed and alone and more worryingly had suicidal thoughts, that overtook my life. While my friends were growing up 'normally' enjoying all the activities 'normal' kids enjoy, I rapidly became more and more insular, afraid and scared of the future.
At the same time, AIDS impacted all our lives, rather like the pandemic of today and my sexuality became even more of a problem; I cried every night wrestling with fears that were spiralling out of control. I believed being gay would kill me and I wouldn't be able to stop it. I had no one to talk to, since the Government of the time introduced 'Section 28' prohibiting any conversations with professionals, who could have helped and life became even more pained than it was already. By the time I left school in 1987, I was a nervous wreck, with nowhere to turn, turning to alcohol and cigarettes for support.
The early 90s was a time of great liberation; I finally found myself and accept my lot in life. I attended Pride marches, joined the Anti-Nazi League and began fighting for my right to exist as a gay man. There were set backs and phases when I questioned my sexuality, but this was due to other people opinions and their destructive influences. I was attacked several times and on one occasion thrown into the back of a car and beaten for over an hour, finally thrown out in a ditch at the side of the road, where, battered and bruised I made my way home. The constant assaults and barrage of abuse made me even more determined to carry on being me and I became physically stronger as a result. Despite this my mental health was in tatters and depression and suicide raised their ugly heads again.
When I met my current husband in 1995, I was ready to settle down with someone I truly loved and that is where my biggest struggle began. Darrell was Australian, and we were both embarking on a same-sex relationship during a time when we were not recognised as a couple. In law, we were denied the right to live together and were told to move to Australia or another country that recognised the nature of our relationship; there was literally no precedent in place to allow us to coexist in Britain. You have to remember this was a time when discrimination was rife, commonplace and endemic in British culture, and we had to fight hard to establish our credentials as a partnership.
Initially we moved to Australia and back again, finally ending up back in Perth for a second time, with the intention of living there for the rest of our lives. Circumstances dictated our next move; Labour won the next General Election of 1997, and we made a last ditched attempt to restart our life in the UK, when the New Labour Government changed the law to finally recognise our relationship. The next five years were tough as we fought the system through much hardship in order to remain in the country. The damage to both our careers, health and sense of well-being was beyond measure, but in the early 2000s Darrell was finally granted 'Indefinite Leave to Remain,' and we could finally start living, six years after we got together.
The battles I fought then are carried around with me still, a reminder that together we can overcome anything. When both of us became the victims of bullying, we decided, once again to carry on fighting. This was one of the biggest challenges of our life, and we went through the motions, followed the rules and did what we could to hold our heads high. In the end, we won the battle, but decided to leave the UK altogether and start a new life somewhere else, this time in Spain, away from the memories that had haunted us for so long. From then on, the World was our oyster, or, so we thought, until events once again conspired to change the course of our life.
Since 2016 we have lived apart for most of the year, while Darrell helps his Mother deal with the spectre of Cancer. I have returned to the UK and continue to do what I can to survive during difficult times. Both of us are also dealing with our own health issues, built up over many years of stress and anxiety and do what we can to support one another. Even today, as we both contend with a pandemic that is keeping us apart on opposite sides of the World, we both remain committed and focused on our relationship. The battles we fought at the beginning have really taught us much about staying the course and each of us have an undying sense of purpose as we traverse the later stages of our life together.
I was always a child who suffered at the hands of bullies. I knew I was gay from about the age of eleven and consequently found it hard to hide who I was. Back in the early 1980s, it was not acceptable to be homosexual and I suffered physically and mentally as a result. When I look back at my school days I shudder at just how bad they were and what I had to do to survive. There was of course an element of lying about who I was, but there was more than that. I knew I was different, found men attractive and couldn't be who I wanted to be, but I was still a young boy growing up at a time of great prejudice, with feelings that were so different to my peers and as a result I became a 'self isolating outcast,' spending the majority of the time on my own, away from others, for fear of being attacked or worse, for who I was.
Of course when one spends too much time on ones own, the real battles outside turn to conflicts in the mind. My mental health became fragile, from an early age, but without the help and support people are accorded today, I tried and failed miserably, to overcome some dark and distressing periods. I often felt deeply depressed and alone and more worryingly had suicidal thoughts, that overtook my life. While my friends were growing up 'normally' enjoying all the activities 'normal' kids enjoy, I rapidly became more and more insular, afraid and scared of the future.
At the same time, AIDS impacted all our lives, rather like the pandemic of today and my sexuality became even more of a problem; I cried every night wrestling with fears that were spiralling out of control. I believed being gay would kill me and I wouldn't be able to stop it. I had no one to talk to, since the Government of the time introduced 'Section 28' prohibiting any conversations with professionals, who could have helped and life became even more pained than it was already. By the time I left school in 1987, I was a nervous wreck, with nowhere to turn, turning to alcohol and cigarettes for support.
The early 90s was a time of great liberation; I finally found myself and accept my lot in life. I attended Pride marches, joined the Anti-Nazi League and began fighting for my right to exist as a gay man. There were set backs and phases when I questioned my sexuality, but this was due to other people opinions and their destructive influences. I was attacked several times and on one occasion thrown into the back of a car and beaten for over an hour, finally thrown out in a ditch at the side of the road, where, battered and bruised I made my way home. The constant assaults and barrage of abuse made me even more determined to carry on being me and I became physically stronger as a result. Despite this my mental health was in tatters and depression and suicide raised their ugly heads again.
When I met my current husband in 1995, I was ready to settle down with someone I truly loved and that is where my biggest struggle began. Darrell was Australian, and we were both embarking on a same-sex relationship during a time when we were not recognised as a couple. In law, we were denied the right to live together and were told to move to Australia or another country that recognised the nature of our relationship; there was literally no precedent in place to allow us to coexist in Britain. You have to remember this was a time when discrimination was rife, commonplace and endemic in British culture, and we had to fight hard to establish our credentials as a partnership.
Initially we moved to Australia and back again, finally ending up back in Perth for a second time, with the intention of living there for the rest of our lives. Circumstances dictated our next move; Labour won the next General Election of 1997, and we made a last ditched attempt to restart our life in the UK, when the New Labour Government changed the law to finally recognise our relationship. The next five years were tough as we fought the system through much hardship in order to remain in the country. The damage to both our careers, health and sense of well-being was beyond measure, but in the early 2000s Darrell was finally granted 'Indefinite Leave to Remain,' and we could finally start living, six years after we got together.
The battles I fought then are carried around with me still, a reminder that together we can overcome anything. When both of us became the victims of bullying, we decided, once again to carry on fighting. This was one of the biggest challenges of our life, and we went through the motions, followed the rules and did what we could to hold our heads high. In the end, we won the battle, but decided to leave the UK altogether and start a new life somewhere else, this time in Spain, away from the memories that had haunted us for so long. From then on, the World was our oyster, or, so we thought, until events once again conspired to change the course of our life.
Since 2016 we have lived apart for most of the year, while Darrell helps his Mother deal with the spectre of Cancer. I have returned to the UK and continue to do what I can to survive during difficult times. Both of us are also dealing with our own health issues, built up over many years of stress and anxiety and do what we can to support one another. Even today, as we both contend with a pandemic that is keeping us apart on opposite sides of the World, we both remain committed and focused on our relationship. The battles we fought at the beginning have really taught us much about staying the course and each of us have an undying sense of purpose as we traverse the later stages of our life together.
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