Begrudging My Education

28/06/24 

I’ve been thinking about something EH repeatedly raised as a major factor in destroying his affection for me – my decision to go to university, 15 years ago, as a mature student. 

I’d been suffering badly in a job where I was being bullied. One day, seemingly out of nowhere, I found my granite streak, walked out and immediately made enquiries as to how to get onto a university course. I aimed to qualify in the subject area that was the bone of contention at the centre of me being bullied. 

EH fully supported me quitting the job, but seemed a bit less sure of my idea to study.

Nevertheless, I excitedly rang up, made enquiries, and, as if universal energy directed it, there was an open day/open interview for that academic year, taking place within a couple of days.

Terrified of making a fool of myself, I nonetheless went along for the interview, wrote a test piece about why I wanted to become a student at age 40, and was accepted on the spot. 

My truncated education as a teenager necessitated a foundation year prior to starting my degree proper, but I was in, with funding.   

I bounced home like Tigger on a sugar high. 

This was fantasy world for me. When I was younger no one had ever indicated that I could gain a degree. In fact, despite Rassgat being a teacher, the concept of me going to university was never even put onto my radar as an option. 

When I left school at 16 with masses of potential but few qualifications, I thought that further education was something for other people, forever closed to me. 

Now, here I was, just about to walk through the doors of my most exciting adventure, embarking on a dream I hadn’t even fully realised was latent within me. 

When I told EH my amazing news, he got moody, then came up with reason after reason why I shouldn’t do it. His primary concern seemed to be that I’d hang onto him (and his finances) until I qualified, then I’d ditch him for one of the clever people I was going to meet.

What a ‘tell’ that was (hindsight) about how he viewed himself. His level of self worth.

Of course, at the time, I saw it as me needing to show him that I wasn’t the kind of mean, mercenary person he seemed to think I was.

It was one hell of a deflation, my bubble being punctured by his negativity, rather than further inflated by the enthusiasm I’d anticipated from him. Regardless, I did my best to reassure him. 

I explained the importance of it to me, the possibilities it could open up for both of us. I sincerely made him the promise that I would support him in the future if he wished to embark on a similar endeavour.

All to no avail. 

He was implacable, but I was unusually immovable, eventually telling him (and meaning it), that with or without his support I was going to do this. 

At the time he seemed to come to grudgingly accepting it.

Although the strain on us (financial and emotional) was massive, and the distance between us grew tangibly deeper as the years went by, at times he was actually there for me. 

There was more than one occasion when I became completely overwhelmed by the work and the pressure I was putting myself under. I was almost prepared to quit, and convinced myself I couldn’t do it.

During one such meltdown, I half destroyed my study space, tearing notes, memos etc from the walls, wailing that I was just kidding myself, there was no way I’d ever amount to anything.

In odd, isolated incidents like that, he stepped up. He held me, he bathed me, he fed me, he helped tidy up my study, he convinced me I could.  He gave me all I ever wanted and needed. Momentarily.

I felt there was a huge amount of reparation due to him and to our marriage, I promised him over and over that I’d find ways to make up for all the stress my choice had put on him, once my course was complete.

I always thought he had decided the shorter-term difficulties were worth it. Worth it for me, for us, for the future we wanted together. 

Turns out I was totally wrong. 

He tells me that what actually happened was my discounting of his feelings and opinions in the matter wounded him so deeply he could never get past it, and he essentially started closing off from me at that point. 

Are you fucking kidding me?! 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m sorry if the way I made and claimed my decision was less than elegantly handled.

I get that at the time his feelings may have been hurt.

But to hold onto that pain in the face of watching me grow, academically flourish, and dragon slay with every new achievement? 

Purr-lees!

What kind of selfishness within him meant that he couldn’t flip it round? To stop seeing it as his wishes being ignored, and see it as me reaching for dreams.

How could he not see what it would have done to me to have to let go of that chance. For me to have to accept that my wishes and dreams were of lesser importance than his unfounded fears of impending rejection? 

I so wish he could have looked at it from my perspective and valued all that I gained outside of the academic qualifications; the improved self perceptions, the confidence gained, some of the ghosts of difficult school years laid to rest.

I wish he could have been bursting with pride for me when I walked across the stage, three times, to collect excellence awards and my degree. 

I thought that’s what was happening at the time. 

I’ve subsequently found out he was apparently feeling resentment. Amongst other things, he didn’t feel it was fair that he had to spend the whole day shuttling about according to a timetable set by others, and being with my friends and family. 

Yes, I feel like a fool for not seeing. 

I feel hurt too.

Hurt that he was so unnecessarily deceitful for so long.

Hurt that he wasn’t invested enough in us to talk things through properly with me.

Hurt that whenever I told him I loved him and he said he loved me too, he was secretly harbouring a festering resentment against me. 

I absolutely hold my hands up that I failed to follow through on the idea that I’d use my degree to get some kind of high powered, super well-paying job which could open up all sorts of future options for us.

It is worth pointing out that my career choices in no way prevented him from going ahead and studying or doing what was needed to change career, as I’d promised, should he so wish. 

We could handle the loss of his income. The jobs I took, together with spare room rental income, were more than adequate. At very base level, we’d be at or above the standard of living we had towards the latter half of my studies (when we’d got used to the rhythm of income streams and the budget we were working with).  

What was standing in the way of me utilising my degree was twofold.

Firstly, I can’t bear the corporate environment – all that jargon and buzzwords and bollocks makes me itch and does not, in any way, bring out the best of me.

The other, bigger part, was imposter syndrome, pure and simple.

I recognise it but have no clue what to do about it. 

To this day I feel I somehow conned my way into elected student role positions, got the student of excellence and student of the year awards, not because I was particularly good, but because no one else was really bothering to try for them, and that ultimately the First was a fluke, an honour I don’t really deserve. 

He never understood my fears that if I got a ‘big job’ I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

I wouldn’t fit in, I’d rapidly be revealed as a fake and be demoted, or have to leave in humiliation. 

Better to stick to the lower-level jobs I know I can do rather than risk being exposed as above my station and thinking I can be more than I realistically can. 

He’d tell me I’m clever, that I could do or be anything, but somehow his actions and treatment of me didn’t match the words. Encouragement would evaporate and frustration rapidly show through when I struggled to apply for degree worthy jobs.

I know it was wrong but I needed his consistent approval and admiration to help me kill off my inner voices and doubts when it came to the job market.

I batted away compliments from others about my achievements: “Anyone could do it”, I needed him to remind me that’s not true, and that it was amazing that I did it.

I’m currently working hard on the concept that It’s ok for me to be proud of myself.

I’m not a kid anymore, and Rassgat’s not there to tell me off for being big headed and show-offy. 

I know I need to learn to give those things to myself.

But it was also, utterly reasonable of me to have looked to my husband for that type of support too.

OK, I’ll rephrase…. it is utterly reasonable to expect that type of support within a healthy relationship. Maybe not quite so reasonable, in the face of all evidence, to have ever expected it from him!

Well, that’s another lovely dollop of ‘off-my-chest’.

More altered perception.

Another l’il step.

JP