I did something amazing for myself awhile back: I arranged sessions to see a psychotherapist. I strongly believe that everyone could benefit from some really good therapy. This world, it fucks you up.

And it was during therapy sessions that a lot of things came up in my life. Some I might talk about on this blog and some that aren’t hugely relevant to anyone other than myself. But one of the things that I picked up on? That I had been dealing with my ex’s insecurities for quite some time. Just carrying that around, hefting that weight with me wherever I went. And having those insecurities get between us and our relationship in small ways and quite significant ways.

Insecurity 1

I started doing an English Literature degree early on in our relationship, something that I was enormously excited about. I had plans, I had ambitions, I had dreams. Mostly to turn my interest in literature, in story telling into a career in some way. My plans and ambitions have changed over the years into new dreams but during this insecurity, I was at the height of it.

Part of my degree course allowed for me to join certain university clubs. One in particular, the Shakespeare Society, jumped out at me. Where they read and discuss Shakespeare plays like a book club but then also attend events at the Globe in London, open air productions in Stratford-upon-Avon and other cool events. Plus, it just sounded pretty amazing to be surrounded by other people who love Shakespeare.

I told my partner at the time and he said ‘I don’t feel comfortable with you joining that club, what if you meet someone in this club that you like more than me?’ …And so I didn’t join the club.

Insecurity 2

Some time later, I had a male friend that I worked with that I got on with like a house on fire. We were of similar age, had compatible senses of humour, had an interest in both reading and writing. What we also had in common? We both had a sexual attraction to men.

My ex had met this friend of mine. He may have also bumped into this male friend of mine and his boyfriend when we were out to dinner one evening, I can’t quite remember. He was very knowledgeable of the fact that my friend is gay in any case.

But my ex was jealous of our friendship. He didn’t like that there was such humour and laughter between us. That my stories about work were of the drudgery of the work and how this one friend got me through it. So when my male friend asked if I wanted to go to a (Madonna) concert with him free of charge because his boyfriend had to work and he had a spare ticket, my ex said he’d feel really uncomfortable with me going out with a man that wasn’t him. …And so I didn’t go to the concert.

Insecurity 3

I’ve already written about how I found out that I’m bisexual but after I realised that about myself, I thought …this feels important to me. It feels big. I know (and I knew then) that I would never be able to share my bisexuality with certain people in my life. I had a small window of time where I could have told my dad before he died, but I couldn’t face the (very realistic but sad) realisation that he might not have accepted me if I’d told him. More than likely he’d have said something disgusting and I didn’t want that. And I knew/know that my mother would similarly not accept me or understand if I told her. So I haven’t. Both my parents are a bust in this respect.

But at the time, I thought, I can’t just let this pass me by. I didn’t want to pretend like it didn’t exist. Not with the people that should or did care about me the most. So, even though it was really difficult, I decided to ‘come out’ to my ex. It was scary and huge and I felt an enormous amount of anxiety about it, worrying about his reaction, what he would say. I mentally rehearsed, I had a speech prepared. I didn’t know when I was going to say it but I figured the right time would happen and I’d just know.

In the end, we were in our bedroom talking about our days. I don’t remember what conversation was about before I brought it up. But eventually I said there was something I wanted to tell him. I put a smile on my face and just said it. It felt like relief to have the words in the air between us.

Until his response. Which was ‘Does this mean you’re going to leave me for another girl?’ and at the time I felt crushed by his response but I didn’t recognise it.

It was only much later that the hurt crept in. Then the anger. Not just for that response but for all of it. That in all these situations, it was his feelings and his insecurities that came before my own. Before my excitement about a new hobby, before my friendships, before even my own identity.

And I allowed it at the time. I hadn’t ever had experience of me being allowed my own feelings. But I know now. And I definitely deserve more. Of others and also of myself.