For the first time in a very long time, I am desperate to portray the day I have experienced in the light it deserves. This blog holds most, but as you're about to find out, not ALL of my deepest, darkest secrets and within these pages are some dark stories. But not the darkest...
It was only about a week ago I was asked to rustle something up for the Trust's first ever LGBT conference. I make no bones about it, I was there to fill the gap in the schedule, but I don't mind that. I was given an open book to speak for about 10 minutes about my own personal experiences in mental health; a topic I have presented to an audience about before, but as I was writing my speech, I sensed a moment...
How do I explain this?
From the beginning may help. In 2012, I met a guy. His name was Matt, he was a bit of a party animal and a practical joker; a funny man unless I was the man he was pranking, then he was an idiot. But, without trying to sound like I'm reading from the script of 'Love Actually', he was my idiot. It didn't take long to realise that I loved him. And he loved me.
You don't know about us? Don't worry, you're not the only one. In fact, until the beginning of 2014, no one knew. At first, the issue was the fact that I wasn't out yet, still firmly in the snow of Narnia, I had yet to emerge from the dusty, dark closet. I came out in 2013, and logic dictates I should have told everyone about Matt at the same time, but I didn't. I had seen what the social media age did to relationships; friends feeling they have the ultimate right to dictate how you love via a computer screen, it was not what I wanted. In fact, it was not what Matt wanted. We didn't agree on much, (our debates on all sorts were a joy to behold!) yet we had agreed on something. This was our relationship, and no one else's. Not even this blog, as public as it had become, got to feel our love.
By 2014, we'd told a few people, most notably our families, but as he trekked off to Newcastle to start a university venture, I was upset as I sensed it was the beginning of the end. With the distance, I imagined it would be difficult. A month later, at the end of October, it really was the end. He'd gone out on a bender, got behind the wheel of the car and crashed.
He died.
Since that day, I have not spoken about it. I've mentioned it to close friends, but I quickly divert the conversation, not wanting to delve too deep. The memories hurt too much. Today was the day I spoke about it and not only did I speak about it, I did it in a room full of people I had never met before.
It was quite difficult to enjoy the itinerary up to 2:40pm, the time I was due to speak. Ruth Hunt, the CEO of Stonewall was so brilliantly engaging, with her knack of making a comical point sound serious at the same time. It was a masterclass in public speaking, and her messages were vital to the event. Next on the agenda was me...
The only other time I have spoken about my mental health experiences in a similar format, there was no stage, no podium... No anything. It wasn't structured enough, so I ended up walking around aimlessly, not really following the script and I don't think I did myself justice. This time, I had a lectern with a microphone and as I laid my script out in front of me, I grabbed hold of the sides and I didn't let go. The speech went well. I made a couple of quips that got good laughs and I started to feel pretty comfortable, but I knew what was coming and I genuinely considered cutting it short, scared of what I was about to say.
I was admitted to a psychiatric ward in September 2014. Discharged three weeks before Matt died, with a renewed sense of optimism and a path forward. Matt had always known about my past with mental illness and was as understanding as most of my friends are these days. Talking about my psychiatric admissions were easy pickings to what I was about to finish with.
"I was discharged on the final day of September 2014. Three weeks later, Matt was dead."
I regretted making it sound theatrical, as if I wanted to garner a reaction from the audience, because although it did, it also garnered a reaction from me. I had actually told 100+ people in one hit and I can't put in words how that affected me. That single moment, where you could hear a couple of people audibly gasping, and me... Remembering that day... I could feel myself welling up...
But I somehow carried on talking, for I was determined to reach the end. My experiences with Matt; the hand holding in the street, the time we eventually told our parents about us, all of that made me stronger. Losing Matt and somehow keeping it together, made me stronger. That was the message of my speech. Whatever happens; however extreme life may get, fighting through it and getting to the other side makes you stronger.
I finished the speech and aimed to sit down in my original chair, but I didn't. I walked straight out and burst into tears, as quietly as I could in the corridor. I had told myself I wouldn't cry, that I would be my stubborn self, but I'd been stubborn for too long. A couple of colleagues, clearly seeing that I had walked out followed and gave me huge hugs. I cried and cried into the arms of a wonderful man called Dwayne, who I had literally met two hours earlier. I felt a bit sheepish, but not stupid.
I think I'd earned a cry.
For these past couple of years, I've tried holding it in. I grieved, but I did so privately almost in the same vain as our relationship and I think today was that step I needed to take. I'm emotionally drained now, as I type this from what was quite an extraordinary day. I got a lot of people coming up to me afterwards saying how brave I was and that it inspired them, (someone even said I was the most confident speaker they'd heard in years - which was surprising as bloody Ruth Hunt was before me!) and I did that thing where I mumble a thank you and stare at my toes, attempting to hide the probable blush.
I hope from here I can try and find more remnants of the old me that have evaporated in recent years. I certainly found the confidence from my acting days to get through today. Who knows what else I may recover?
P.S. The whole event was filmed, so I will try and get hold of my speech and let you see it... If you ask nicely...
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