Wedding Belles

Ours wasn’t the only wedding in 2009. I had to come to terms with the fact that my little brother isn’t little anymore. Admittedly, he hasn’t been ‘little’ since he shot up to well over 6 feet tall in 1999, but I think even he will admit it took him a lot longer to grow up - about ten years, in fact. You see, in May 2009 my little brother stood up tall and married the woman who had given him the inspiration and strength to be the best man that he could be.

His wife doesn’t have a malicious bone in her entire body. She is incredibly kind, caring and immediately adopted me as another sister. In my short visits home over the previous two years I had watched in amazement as she patiently and completely transformed him. My Mom and Grandma applaud her for succeeding in what they had desperately tried to do for the previous ten years. The boy who wouldn’t get out of bed before 2pm was now driving his beloved to work at 6am without complaint (though at that time of the morning I don’t expect he really says much of anything); where he had previously taken anything he could get his hands on, he was now giving little tokens of affection; while he had never before acknowledged what other people were feeling, he was now offering help and showing gratitude for receiving it. The boy is clearly in Love – it has given him a sense of purpose and self-worth and has empowered him to finally grow into his mighty frame.

Before I touched down in Chicago, a week before the main event, I knew it was going to be a full-on visit with all the last-minute preparations, rehearsals, visitors and celebrations. To top it off, in the car ride down to Bloomington I found out there wasn’t just one wedding on the cards – my aunt was also getting married!

My aunt has been a huge support to me throughout my life, in a way providing the ying to my mother’s yang. Where I’ve seen my Mom as controlled and restrained, my aunt is more impulsive and carefree. She has always let me sound off to her about everything and anything. I’m sure she can chuckle at the evolution of my various personal conflicts from trying to fit in at school to developing an adult relationship with my mother to navigating through random political and moral worldviews. She and her partner have been together as long as I can remember, so he’s also had a big influence in my life. I distinctly remember the gruelling hours of practice he put me through to improve my skills and confidence enough to make the softball team in 8th grade. Summer afternoons have never been as baking hot before or since!

I don’t know all the details of their life together, but I know they have been through a lot and that they have always made decisions together, confidently. In spite of hardships, they have been together for over 20 years, but had never married so I must admit I was more than a bit surprised that they were choosing to tie the knot.

One of their deciding factors to wed had to do with health care; namely that they needed to be married for my aunt to include her partner in her health care benefits package. “In sickness and in health” is a fundamental aspect of any marriage, after all. Having just been through a decision-making process of my own, I knew the importance of taking whatever steps are necessary to ensure the security of my relationship. They got married with no pomp and circumstance in their front room, witnessed by small crowd of close family and friends and administered by a justice of the peace.

My brother’s wedding the following week could not have been more different. It was, in every sense, a traditional wedding with a young couple committing themselves to each other in front of God and everyone. There was a blur of chaos and stress leading up to it, but the big day was beautiful and the ceremony perfectly represented the two of them. The church was full with extended family and friends from both sides. I cried when they said their vows and laughed as my brother drove his bride around the church car park with his head peering out the sun roof.

The stark contrast between these two events is quite revealing. Both are considered to be weddings and both resulted in two individuals marrying, yet their reasons for marrying and the ceremonies undertaken are products of these couples’ circumstances and aspirations. At no time did anyone from the government step in to question or regulate the validity of either. There was no government official present to assess their love for each other, question how they intended to live their lives together or to obligate them to have children.

While my aunt and her partner may not have ever felt marriage was for them in terms of the holy matrimony aspects, the civil aspects of marriage were absolutely fundamental to their overall wellbeing and happiness. Ironically, while some would see this approach to marriage as little more than a paper exercise, their decision to marry has affirmed their commitment to each other and has ultimately strengthened their relationship like nothing else could. I know for certain they are grateful for the opportunity that their marriage has afforded them.

I admire this post by Louis J Marinelli, which illustrates my point here perfectly. After years of narrowly understanding marriage as ‘holy matrimony’ he now appreciates, and perfectly articulates that the government should only be concerned with regulating the civil aspects of marriage. Once this is understood, it is clear that the civil rights afforded through marriage should be applied equally under the law to all citizens, regardless of gender. It takes a lot of guts to admit you have been wrong in the past and I hope he will continue to be a champion for marriage equality. I know that me, C and our friends and family will.

We Did

C and I were looking forward to 2009. We recognised all the risks, forward-planning and hard work that it had taken for us to get to where we were and we were ready to finally be settled in our new place. At the same time, we knew that my Fresh Talent Scheme visa was due to expire in December. It was becoming more and more apparent that my status as a non-permanent resident meant it was nearly impossible for us to make any long-term plans together because our future together (geographically speaking) wasn’t clear.

I could have applied to remain in the country on my own merits, sponsored by my employer but there were challenges associated with that route. First, the company would have to advertise my job and I would have to re-apply to keep it; this was relatively routine and everyone was confident it was a low-risk. More importantly, though my status in the UK would be bound to my employment at this company: so, if I were to lose my job for any reason, I would have to find another employer to sponsor me or leave the country. Normally I wouldn’t have considered losing my job as a real possibility, but the evidence of the recession was more apparent than ever and unemployment levels for my sector were growing exponentially. Redundancies were (and still are) a possibility, and the options for finding alternative jobs quickly were (and still are) incredibly limited. This wouldn’t have provided us with any sense (or reality) of security.

It made more sense for me to apply to stay in the country based on the legitimate reason for me wanting to be here – so that I could live my life with my partner. In the UK, that was a real option for us.

I have to pause for an aside here. I had originally written “Fortunately, in the UK, that was a real option for us.” Yet it’s not by luck or chance or circumstance that the UK affords gays and same-sex couples equality under the law. Enormous effort and resources have gone into campaigning for and achieving equal rights often in spite of efforts by the ‘moral majority’ to exclude gays. It’s certainly not perfect I can’t help but admire a political system that not only recognises the importance of treating everyone fairly in rhetoric, but also in policy, procedure and practice.

The first Civil Partnership in the UK happened in December 2005. C often talks about how she never thought marriage equality would happen. As a teenager she had to seek out a hidden scene in basement bars with blacked out windows tucked away from public life. Because it was new and topical, we had talked a lot about getting married early on in our relationship and knew that it was what we wanted to do when the time was right for us. I think we’d always assumed that in order to get married we’d have to have a wedding, and all the pomp and circumstance that went with it. I didn’t want to do that without including my friends and family in some way and there was still a lot of relationship-building that needed to happen for that to be a possibility.

The more we talked about it, though, the more apparent it became that neither of us were ‘wedding’ people. The thought of having to plan and execute a day where we were the centre of attention was our collective idea of hell. We were all for celebrating our love and commitment to each other; just not as a public spectacle. It became apparent very quickly that, actually, there really wasn’t a better reason for us to make a formal commitment to each other. It would enable us to have a secure future together and finally start planning our life beyond the next visa.

So, in February, we were engaged. There was no ostentatious proposal and we didn’t actually tell anyone, but it was incredibly romantic.

Despite not having a wedding as such, we still had a lot of planning to do. We wanted to register our civil partnership on 20 August 2009, our fourth anniversary, and needed to time our various applications and submissions to the Home Office accordingly. We needed a Certificate of Approval from the Home Office (processing time 4 weeks; valid for 3 months) in order to give notice to register our Civil Partnership to the registrar in Edinburgh. We then had to seal the deal within 3 months. After that we could apply for me to get Indefinite Leave to Remain as the spouse of a UK citizen any time before December, when my other visa expired. The process was pretty straightforward and we had plenty of time to get it all in place. Once we knew what we had to do and when, we were able to relax and really enjoy the build-up to starting a future together.

We even had enough wiggle room to programme in a holiday to Rhodes in July. C’mon...it wouldn’t have been ‘us’ without some time in the sun! It was an incredible week and we spent a day leisurely wandering around Rhodes Old Town shopping for rings. We’d seen a few possibilities, but eventually found two simple matte white gold bands with a polished continuous wave. We had them sized and went off to bask in the sun while they were engraved with our wedding date. A few short hours later, our most prized possessions were stowed away in a small blue velvet ring box.

We kept our plans on a need-to-know basis, only revealing to people when we were ready for them to know. That may seem selfish, but we weren’t doing this for anyone else and really didn’t want the fuss that comes with big announcements. In June, we had each asked a friend in Edinburgh to be our witnesses out of necessity, but we waited until August to tell our families.

It was a somewhat difficult telling C’s family because we weren’t including them in the ceremony. Both of her brothers had church weddings and she had been very involved in those. At the same time, we didn’t want the day to pass without them even knowing about it. I know they all had wished they could have been there, but we are incredibly grateful for the respect they showed us in simply accepting that we were doing things our own way. I have been touched by how they each acknowledged and celebrated our union with us since then.

I told my Mom over the phone. At the time she seemed a bit distant in her response, but the next day she emailed me:

 5 August 2009

Thanks for sharing with me about you and C. I just want you to be happy and I like C and know that her family has been very kind to include you in so many activities and holidays (which helps me to feel better knowing that you have somewhere to be at those times).  I also know that C and I have not had much of an opportunity to get to know each other...

Be happy (that is what I wish and want for you).  If being with C makes both of you happy and you realize the problems and hardships that you might face that is all that matters.  
Much Happiness Always!!
Hugs and Kisses
Mom

On the 20 August, C and I spent the morning at home. We exchanged cards, rings and lifelong intentions in private before setting off together. We met our witnesses outside the flower shop on Broughton Street where we picked up thistle corsages. It was raining, so we got a taxi up to the Registry Office, just off the Royal Mile. I took a few minutes to freshen up before our registrar met us and took us upstairs to a beautiful room. He said a few respectful words before going through the legal aspects of the ceremony. I remember us looking at each other as we signed our certificate. My hand was shaking and I felt overwhelmed by emotion. I was excited and nervous at the same time – this was unchartered territory for both of us but felt comforting. It was the right time.

As we walked out of the registry office, Edinburgh’s city centre had been transformed. The sun was beaming down and the streets were overflowing with festival-goers. We wandered up the Royal Mile and met a street performer acting as a statue. She was in gold from head to toe and for £1 she handed us a golden rose. We walked up towards the castle and wandered down Ramsay Lane, stopping at Mound Place with the whole of Edinburgh’s New Town in front of us. It was so fitting to be surrounded by the same buzz of Edinburgh in August that had brought us together four years previously. There is a picture of us laughing together there that is one of my favourite photos of us ever.

As we returned home together that evening we simultaneously exhaled a sigh of relief - the next chapter in our life had just begun and we were starting it in style, with a 3-week honeymoon in Australia. Little did we know that C would have an opportunity to get to know my Mom very well before we applied for my next visa, though the circumstances were highly unexpected...

It'll be fine

In July 2007, I completed my coursework in Planning and got a job as a consultant on a temporary contract while I finished my final dissertation. After receiving my MSc, I applied for a Fresh Talent: Working in Scotland Scheme visa to stay in the UK for two years as a new graduate. My job was transferred to a permanent contract and I started life as a professional woman. This meant I had to buy a lot of shirts that constantly need ironing.

The transition wasn’t easy. C and I spent almost every night together but it was getting harder to find the space to spend quality time together with my new 9 to 5, Monday to Friday schedule. C had her flat in East Lothian and I was living in a shared flat in Edinburgh, 25 miles apart. We would mostly stay at mine through the week as bus links from her small village to Edinburgh in the morning were pretty unreliable and I didn’t have a car (or a UK driver’s license). Living in a shared flat was fine when I was a student, but it was near impossible to get the privacy we wanted or sleep we needed in a flat full of students. There were many weeknights when we would give up in desperation and drive back to East Lothian at midnight just to get some respite.

I had every weekend off, but C worked at least two weekends a month. When we had time off together we would mostly spend it at hers. She had a gorgeous top floor flat in an 18^th century mansion house in a small, idyllic village. It overlooked a square with a fountain and was only minutes from a beautiful riverside walk, complete with a waterfall. I couldn’t have invented a more beautiful place to stay. The time we spent there was always peaceful and allowed us glimpses of what our life would be like if we lived together. Unfortunately we decided it wasn’t feasible for us to move into hers – mostly because of my work demands in Edinburgh. Instead, we focussed our efforts on preparing C’s flat for sale with a view to renting somewhere in the city together.

In February 2008, C’s mother was unexpectedly diagnosed with cancer. These things are never expected, but she hadn’t been unwell in any way leading up to the diagnosis. C was devastated and devoted all of her spare time and energy ensuring her mum was getting the care she needed, attending hospital appointments, etc. I had never been in a situation like that with anyone before. I was scared and I didn’t know how to support C. I would love to be the kind of person who can find the right words or make the right gesture to offer comfort. Instead, I become hesitant, vacant and completely lacking in any emotional intelligence or thought. The Scots actually have the perfect word to describe this: glaikit.

I had booked at trip back to visit my family over Easter weekend. It was already going to be a short trip but it would mean I could celebrate my birthday while I was there. Unfortunately my flight over from London was delayed by 27 hours so the trip was cut even shorter. I still had my birthday in Illinois, the first in many years, but the journey was exhausting and the whole ordeal left me quite uncharacteristically emotional.

It was such a stressful summer. I was at my wits end with shared living and had moved into a tiny and drafty 1-bedroom flat that I could just afford. C put her flat on the market just as the recession hit. Her mum started chemo. It was hard to see any silver linings amongst all the gray clouds. We kept repeating the mantra “It’ll be fine.” Life had guided us toward each other for a reason and it would guide us through all of this the same way. We just needed to keep strong and, in time, it would all be fine...somehow.

I remember sitting with C in front of two glasses of cool white wine at the shore in Leith after work one afternoon. We were tense, fed up and I don’t think we were even looking at each other. Somehow, through the course of the conversation we both finally expelled all of the fears we had been holding back. Ironically, sharing our fears with each other was the only way we could be strong together. In that moment I learned what it means to be a partner. I had never shared my fears about anything with anyone before, but never once did I feel vulnerable or alone. C was there for me and I was there for her at this impossibly difficult time. Our support for each other is unwavering.

And then the pieces gradually started to fall into place. Despite the housing market crash, C sold her flat (and made a tidy profit) in early July. Her reward was to watch all her belongings driven off to storage and move into my tiny flat with me. She arrived with nothing more than two suitcases and a couple of potted plants. It was certainly very cosy, but we were finally together in our own space. C’s mum successfully made it through her treatment and began the long road to recovery. As a means of exhaling, we did what we do best – we went on holiday!

The two weeks we spent in Florida and Georgia were nothing short of perfection. We cruised around in a sexy Ford Mustang called Sally, taking in downtowns, uptowns and backwaters with complete abandon. It was what all holidays should be – exactly the opposite of our real life. We were in gluttonous America; we did whatever we wanted and faced no obstacles.

At the end of the trip, C flew home to Scotland and I flew home to my Mom’s for a week. It was hard to leave her and I would have loved to bring her back to continue our adventure, especially as it was Homecoming week at IWU. Unfortunately it was still not the right time for her to join me but I had an incredible visit. I was able to spend a lot of time with many of my friends from college and I got to be a part of the ongoing planning programme for my little brother’s upcoming wedding. Amazing.

At the same time, C arrived back to a typical October in Scotland and spent the first night shivering under 5 blankets. She understandably took the decision that we deserved somewhere bigger and warmer...immediately. Cold is a great motivator and in a few short days she had found just the place, which she showed to me two days after I got back. We moved into what is now our home in late October 2008. It suits us perfectly: a modern and airy 2-bed flat, quietly tucked away but still in walking distance to the city centre.

A few months later we decided we could share it with 2 perfectly behaved goldfish named ‘Indiana Jones’ and ‘Spike’. I feel compelled to say the names were chosen by our nephews.

We regularly reflect on the hurdles we had to overcome to secure our home together and we will never take for granted the opportunities that this place affords us, in particular: space to spend quality time together, without forward-planning; respite from the normal stresses of work and city-living; and a venue for hosting friends and family (we’re slowly getting better at this).

On the 31^st December 2008 we rang in the New Year by listening to Edinburgh’s famous fireworks from the warmth of our living room. It had been one hell of an exhausting year and we were eager to see it end. Yet, from where we were sitting it was clear that, somehow, everything was going to be fine. We had gotten through it together and had grown stronger in the process. It was also clear that living together was merely the first step in us pledging our commitment to one another. 2009 was going to be a busy year, with two weddings in the diary...

All Hearts Come Home

Before coming out, I had always felt like I was one person in the USA and a different person abroad. I already had a hard enough time trying to shape my life abroad into a telephone conversation – coming back to the USA to visit my family was a completely different mindgame. Regardless of how I had evolved in the months since my last visit, once I crossed the threshold of the family home I felt like I had to regress back to being the same little kid I had always been under my Mom’s roof.

Any visit would bring me, my Mom, my Grandma and my brother together. Usually my Aunt and a shortlist of other family friends would make appearances throughout the week. There would be brief exchanges of stories about what everyone had done recently. I would be asked weird and wonderful questions about my life overseas, which often provided more insight about the asker’s own life. Admittedly, most of these would come from Grandma: did I have a microwave (yes), did I live far from the queen (not really, if you count Holyrood palace), how many TV channels did I get (at first 5, now over 100), did I really pay nothing to see the doctor (yes), but was that doctor as good as an American doctor (yes).

However, the majority of time during any visit is spent doing what people who have known each other their whole lives do best – dredge up the past. In the first few years I lived outside the USA, dredging up the past was hard because I was doing everything I could to distance myself from that past. Simple comments about what my hair used to look like or what I used to wear or how I used to play the flute, etc., used to send me into an internal rage. I felt that their constant references to the past overlooked the person I had become.

So, simply making my Mom aware of C’s existence and significance in my life was a huge step towards reconciling my two separate lives. Mom now had a glimpse of my real life – that is, the one I lived the majority of the time. She had finally seen and acknowledged my present.

Shortly after my Mom returned to the USA, I met C’s family for the first time. They are so integrated into my life now that it’s hard for me to chronologically place that first meeting. I remember it was a warm, sunny afternoon BBQ in C’s older brother's backyard. I was incredibly nervous and struggled to come to grips with the rather fast-paced west coast accent. But I also remember feeling so welcomed.

C came out to her family in her teens and had already gone through the tumultuous re-building of relationships that follow these revelations. It was heart-warming to see a family all interacting as adults. They accepted me immediately as her partner because there was no need to first overcome the issue of sexuality. It felt so...normal.

One of the highlights for me was meeting C’s two nephews for the first time. At the time they were 2 and 7 and we played football in the back garden. Kids don’t care who you are or where you come from as long as you know how to have fun. They both accepted me immediately, particularly the youngest. He followed me around for most of the day and we shared a special bonding moment on the porch steps, eating chips, bobbing our heads and tapping our feet along to the music. For the next year they called me Panda and after that I became Auntie. I also now have a niece and another nephew on the way. It is certainly a title and a role I cherish.

I had learned a lot from what my Mom and I had fought about when she was here. As much as I wanted to hit the fast-forward button and move our lives along to when everything could be ‘normal’, I knew we had to get through the awkward phase first, however long that was going to be.

I found out later on that one of the main issues my Mom struggled with was that she now felt like she was lying to her mother. My Grandmother is an amazing woman with a sharp wit and an incredibly generous spirit, but she has gotten increasingly stubborn in recent years. Mom worried that she wouldn’t accept this part of me and it would permanently affect our relationship. In coming out, I had effectively transferred my worry and stress to her. Whenever I phoned home, I would always speak to both of them at the same time and any mention of C was always met with a very swift change of subject. At times I felt like coming out had been pointless - I still couldn’t talk about my life!

In September 2006 I returned to the USA for a 2-week visit and to get my UK student visa. C booked tickets to come over for the second week and I softly sounded out with my Mom if she would be able to come to Normal and see where I grew up. I mentioned to my Mom in an email that C would be in Chicago anyway and I would need to be up there for a few days to get my visa – looking to see if she would extend the invitation for both of us to spend a few days in Normal before flying back to the UK. She didn’t. I wasn’t disappointed, but I was frustrated. I couldn’t see how anything was going to change without an opportunity for everyone to be in the same place at the same time. C offered me a lot of perspective, reminding me that it was still very early days.

I did feel more at ease with myself and my Mom in the week I spent with my family. Mom and I had a couple of brief but re-affirming conversations. She again stressed that she knew I was happy, that she was proud of me and that she was trying. She explained how hard it was for her to keep quiet about things in front of Grandma and I think it gave her an insight into how I had felt all those years, though I had the advantage of distance.

C and I had an amazing time in Chicago. It was the first time she had visited the city and our first trip in the USA together. Over the course of the week I introduced her to: lunchtime margaritas at the Cheesecake Factory promptly followed by a tipsy afternoon shopping spree; Illinois tornado warnings, including what to do when the sky turns green and it starts to hail uncontrollably; and, most importantly, many of my friends from college. In a way she got to experience some of the ‘me’ that exists outside the UK and I was grateful for that. We returned to the UK together, and I was, once again, a student.

The rest of that year was spent juggling time between classes, shifts in a cafe, and nights at C’s little country retreat. She always made sure I was well-fed and well-clothed and sanctioned the occasional afternoon truancy as long as it fell on her day off and we could spend it together.

I continued to do better in keeping in touch with my family, and respected my Mom’s need for time. I would mention C in passing, but wouldn’t over-emphasise her in any way that would make Mom feel uncomfortable with her new secret. I knew it would take time.

In the run-up to Christmas, my Mom and Grandma mailed me 3 boxes of Christmas joy. One was full of cookies (this is an annual tradition very much enjoyed by all my friends) – it arrived first, was opened immediately and consumed within a week. The other two were full of presents for me – all wrapped – and I was under strict instructions NOT to open them until Christmas Day. They went under the tiny fake tree I had in my room. On Christmas Eve (close enough!), I opened the boxes to find a selection of bizarre, hand-picked treasures. I am at loss for words to describe the presents my family send me and any unknowing person would struggle to justify the cost of shipping once they’ve seen what’s inside. Each odd little trinket in itself is just clutter, but cumulatively (and especially with the hand-written notes describing each) they represent a little taste of home and a lot of love.

The most surprising treasure, and the one that meant the most to me, was a small green stocking. It had C’s name on it.

Merry Christmas!

A Mother's Love

2006 was a milestone year for me. Through a series of independent experiences, I finally began to really understand the impact my decisions and actions have on the people who love me. This is an important realisation for everyone, but is particularly useful for anyone wanting to be a good partner, daughter and friend.

C and I decided to go on our first holiday together. Rather than choosing a secluded weekend away in the familiar Scottish Highlands, we got a cheap last-minute deal to spend a week Goa, India. It was a freezing January in Scotland, so why not?

Our flight from Gatwick was delayed, so we filled those couple of hours by filling (and re-filling) our wine glasses. By the time we boarded the plane we were very merry indeed and I promptly fell into a drunken slumber with my head on my tray table. I awoke about an hour later and got up to go to the toilet. At this point it all goes a bit fuzzy, but I do remember seeing some shocked passengers’ faces as the world closed in around me and I plummeted, unconscious, into the aisle halfway between my seat and the galley. From what I gather, the flight crew scooped me up, took me to the back of the plane and brought me around. I was pretty embarrassed, but accepted a big bottle of water and sat up for a few minutes before very quickly passing out again, pouring the entire contents of the water onto myself and the floor around me.

Around this time a very camp steward was waking C up to let her know her ‘friend’ had just passed out and was at the back of the plane. She was understandably concerned as she approached me laying in a puddle of liquid with my feet in the air and an oxygen mask on my face.

I tried to make light of the situation at the time, making jokes through the oxygen mask, but I was struck by the look of desperation and helplessness on C’s face as she approached and the relief that washed over her as she watched me recover. I’d been in a horrific jet ski accident when I was 16 and remember very clearly the same look on my Mom’s face as she rushed me through the rural roads of Illinois to the hospital. Medical emergencies, no matter how small, always inspire us to look at things from a new perspective. Although she jokes about it at parties, C isn’t far from the truth when she says she truly demonstrated her love by kneeling down in what she thought was my urine to take my pulse and comfort me.

It wasn’t all heavy, though - we had a lot of fun, after that! We took a walk along Calangute Beach that Sunday. It was packed with locals and a group of boys were playing football (soccer). Their ball got away from them and I tried to show off by kicking it back – barefoot Beckham style. Rather than going anywhere near where I intended it to go, the ball careened toward a family walking toward us. Fortunately the husband ducked in time to avoid it, but left his unsuspecting wife, walking behind him, completely open. Needless to say the ball intersected with this woman’s face. C nearly collapsed in a puddle of her own urine, laughing uncontrollably as I desperately apologised. She knew in that moment that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me – she had never laughed more in life with anyone else.

I could write for days about how magical that first holiday was, but the point is that we both realised in that week that we love living our lives together. Every crazy experience was heightened by the fact that we shared it. We truly became partners on that holiday and every trip we’ve taken since then has reinforced our bond.

Things continued to develop back in our day-to-day lives as well. My voluntary placement was going very well and I began to see the links between my MSc dissertation topic and a potential career in urban planning. I was urged by a colleague at the national charity to apply for a job with a planning consultancy based on the skills I was demonstrating and this inspired me to think about getting a qualification that might actually lead to something. I found an MSc course at Heriot-Watt University in Edinburgh that was a perfect fit.

My Mom turned 60 that March, but I wasn’t there for the celebration. Her present to herself was a passport (she is now one of only 22% of Americans to have one) and a ticket to come see me. As the date of her arrival approached, I grew increasingly nervous about how I was going to introduce her to my life in Edinburgh. I knew by the time she had left here, I would have finally come out to her.

She arrived in the middle of May for a 3 week stay. The day after her arrival, two of my good friends registered their civil partnership. I was honoured to be asked to be a witness for their ceremony and had accepted before my Mom told me she was coming. So I told her I had an appointment in the afternoon and I left her shopping on the Royal Mile with a mobile phone and instructions to answer it when I called.

I met C at the registry office and we both celebrated as our friends made a lifelong commitment to each other in a beautiful and very moving ceremony. We all went along to a local al fresco pub to celebrate and I phoned my Mom to find out where she was.

She didn’t answer the phone.

11 times.

By the time she did answer she was panicked – she was jet lagged and thirsty and not totally sure where she was. I managed to figure out she was just around the corner from us and went to meet her. She suggested we go back to where I had been so she could get a Diet Coke and sit down. I literally had 40metres to explain to her she was about to join a lesbian wedding reception. I said something to the effect of, this is a rather eccentric group of people to which she simply responded “I understand.”

My Mom impressed me a lot in the following hour. She joked and laughed with everyone there and showed off all the things she’d discovered in shops up and down the Royal Mile. Afterward, C drove us up Arthur’s Seat so Mom could take in perhaps the best view of the city and we went to the Shore for dinner. Mom seemed so relaxed, but I felt sick as C dropped us off at my flat because I knew I was about to have the conversation with my Mom that I had been avoiding for years.

By this time I had moved out of my friend’s front room and into a beautiful tenement in Edinburgh’s New Town. Unfortunately the charm of the flat was outweighed by the general neglect normally given to older shared-tenant properties in the city. It was a cold, damp place for most of the year. As we sat in the lounge room I muttered something to the effect of “C’s not just my friend, she’s my partner” and “I’ve always wondered if you’ve known I’m not straight”. But I was completely blown away when, after a few moments of silence, my Mom said “You are my daughter and I love you. I will try to figure out how to be okay with this.”

The following week we went to Galway in Ireland. We didn’t talk much about my revelation and whenever I brought up C Mom would get noticeably uncomfortable. That weekend, back in Edinburgh, we had a big fight. I had asked if it would be okay if I spent some time that evening with C, and Mom got upset. She had, after all, come all this way to see me. I said a lot of things I regret in that exchange, but fortunately I listened to what she told me:

Almost every day my Mom had no idea what I was doing, if I was happy or if I was even alive. I had shut her out completely and she had no point of reference in my life anymore. She knew I had been holding back and now that she knew why, it was going to take some time for her to come to terms with it all. She felt lied to and used. I had always gotten what I wanted from her and I had given her nothing in return for the last 3 years.

She was trying to meet me more than halfway by travelling across the world to be a part of my life abroad, if even for a short time. She wanted to be able to go back and picture me doing normal things in her head. I was asking her to instantly accept all the things I had hidden from her for all this time; she was at least owed the time to transition into this.

I respected her feelings more appropriately after that and we spent the week travelling up the west coast of Scotland to Skye. It was a magical trip and we were both more relaxed around each other and laughed a lot. I got to know my mother again in that week and do you know what I realised? In spite of me trying to hide from her, she had always known me better than I knew myself. When we got back to Edinburgh, she asked me to invite C to the movies with us to see the Da Vinci Code (we’d already visited Roslyn Chapel). That was the first indication of her acceptance and it meant the world to me.

Before she left, my Mom told me she would pay for me to get yet another university degree, even though it meant another year away from the USA, and away from her. She told me she knew I was happy here – otherwise why would I stay? She made me promise that I would try harder to keep in touch with everyone. I had a responsibility in this relationship, too, after all.

When I came back from seeing her off, I found this note on my pillow.

Thanks for showing me a great time. Now I will be able to picture lots of things easier. I know you will do great at university and that you are happy to be in. It is a big accomplishment and we are proud of you! Remember you are very cherished and loved by Grandma and me.

Stay in touch better. We miss you tons.

All my love!!

Hugs and Kisses!! (from Grandma too)

Mom

The void left by her absence lingered for weeks...

I Really Like You

I had arrived in Edinburgh from Australia in December 2004 and I was single, sleeping on a foldaway bed in the corner of my friend’s front room by May. An American friend had recently said to me that she was jealous of the ‘glamorous’ life I was living abroad and I couldn’t help but laugh whenever I thought of this. Glamorous was about as far from my reality as anyone could get. I had just moved house in a taxi and didn’t own a single pair of shoes that didn’t have a hole in the sole. I felt like a complete loser and wholly accepted responsibility for creating that situation for myself, but I wasn’t doing anything to change because I had no idea what I wanted to do.

I met my partner through mutual friends in late July, 2005. Neither of us was looking for love - she was pretty broken, coming out of a complicated break-up, and I was utterly defeated, not knowing where my life was going. I think we were both at a point in our lives where we felt we had already lost it all. Even though we are almost exact opposites in terms of personality, we have the same peculiar sense of humour and both took great comfort in finding someone to laugh with about anything and everything. She was a colourful oasis in an otherwise bleak landscape.

We spent August taking in the sites, sounds, smells and insanity of Edinburgh’s festival season. It’s a time where literally anything goes and there is a palpable buzz in the city. People lose their heads for the entire month and even the weather is unnaturally pleasant. I would meet C a few times a week and we would wander the streets, talking endlessly, taking in free shows, getting lost in various beer gardens and just immersing ourselves in each other. She made the world around me feel inspiring again.

In spite of the gravity between us, though, it seems like we have always had to jump through hoops to be together. From the first day we met, we both knew there was an expiration date on my time in the UK - I was on a temporary visa valid until October to complete a voluntary placement with a national charity. Neither of us considered any other alternative and C even encouraged me to find something positive to move on to. She got me in touch with a friend of hers in California who understood my reluctance to return to the USA, offered me a place to stay while I transitioned back into a life there and gave me a list of charities I could start off with to build some professional experience. C even gave me an ipod as a going away present – she is the most thoughtful and generous person I know.

In the September come-down, reality set in. One morning while we were getting ready to drive back to Edinburgh from C’s flat in East Lothian, she very bravely told me she couldn’t see me anymore because she liked me too much. We had already come so far and it was going to be almost impossible to say goodbye to me in a matter of weeks. She would rather end it now while there was still a chance she could let go. I couldn’t argue with her logic. I had left relationships and lives behind before and knew the kind of hurt it inevitably led to, regardless of good intentions at the point of departure. I did not want to hurt her like that, but I was devastated.

After she dropped me off, I sat for a long time staring at the wall in the front room that was my bedroom, thinking about what could possibly be ahead of me in this life. I had two degrees but no direction. I had countless places to live but nowhere felt like home. I had friends scattered all over the world but I was desperately lonely. I was tired of leaving things unfinished; so I decided to stop. I texted C to let her know that I was going to do whatever I could to stay here and begged her to keep seeing me. Looking back now, I knew I liked spending time with her, but I think I also had a sense that she was the kind of person who could help me find the confidence to take control of my life.

I found out that I could apply for an extended visa to stay as a volunteer in the UK. To do this I needed evidence that my family would support me financially. So I shamelessly phoned home to ask my Mom for a letter of support, copies of her bank statement and money (wired to my flatmate’s bank account because I wasn’t allowed one here in the UK). She could have easily said no, and I would have had no other option but to return to the USA. I often wonder if she ever considered that; I’m sure her heart was screaming out to do whatever she could to get me home. Instead, she did exactly what I asked without question and I had another year abroad. I was determined to come out the other end of it with all the things that had so far eluded me: direction, purpose and home.

People always joke that lesbians bring a moving van to the second date, and admittedly, with our relationship only in its infancy, my decision to stay in the UK was pretty heavy going. C was clearly happy that I wasn’t leaving, but from that moment on she has felt responsible for ‘keeping me here’. I still have to remind her that even though my decision to stay in the UK was inspired by her, I had left the USA for my own reasons long before I had known her. At the time, though, it put a lot of pressure on a relationship that previously had none. Still, hoop number one was successfully completed - we at least had an opportunity to see where the relationship could go.

Then came hoops number 2 through 100. The fact that I was going to be around longer meant I was no longer just a distraction in C’s life, and her ex-partner worked hard to try and sabotage us. For months it felt like everyone else had a reason to ‘warn’ us off getting involved with each other. Thankfully, the fact that we had previously assumed I was leaving meant we had been boldly open with one another from the start of the relationship. We understood each other well enough to withstand these external pressures and through trial and error managed to shed the people who seemed determined to be negative influences in our lives.

That’s not to say we weren’t cautious. We were both quite emotionally raw, and didn’t want to rush into anything too serious too quickly. C was very clear about waiting to introduce me to her family. She’d been in two long-term relationships in the past and knew that those break-ups had meant dissolution of the relationships between her ex-partners and her family. She didn’t want to re-start the process of establishing and developing new relationships until she was sure I wasn’t going to just disappear from her life.

I knew what my heart was telling me in those first six months, but would only ever admit to C that ‘I liked you’. I would end emails and text messages that way. It was eventually emphasised to ‘I REALLY LIKE YOU’. It became a bit of a running joke between us to see who could get in the most reallys.

C spent Christmas Day 2005 with her family and then came to see me in the evening. We exchanged presents and stayed up late, chatting and watching our Christmas candles melting into a red and green mess on the table. And then, we exchanged I love yous. This was getting serious...

In the beginning

Maybe this is the typical ‘gay in a small town’ story, but it took me a long time to admit, even to myself, that I was something other than straight. I loved a boy with all my heart through high school, and dated a few guys briefly in college. But I had my first physical and emotional relationship with a woman starting in the second semester of my first year of college. I’m sure some people probably figured us out but neither of us talked to anyone else about our relationship, so for all intents and purposes I was still far in the closet until well into my third year. That suited me just fine because going to college in my hometown meant even nipping down to the grocery store involved bumping into people who had known me since I was a toddler, or went to my church, or worked with my Mom, etc. They all had expectations of who I was, and I worked very hard to live up to those.

I got a taste for what it was like to create my own sense of home and self during the semester I spent on a study exchange in Australia. Not only did I walk down the street in broad daylight holding my girlfriend’s hand (okay, not some streets), but I took classes that were wholly irrelevant to my chosen major and learned that I was actually very passionate about things I’d never really considered before. It was so empowering to be in a place where I didn’t have a previous context. I have no idea where or who I would be now if I hadn’t had that experience.

So I was ready to break free of my ‘old life’ when I finished my BSc – and that included everything: friends, family, the Midwest, even the USA. None of it could offer me the life I wanted for myself because in my head it represented all the expectations and psychological boundaries I had already torn down. I was ready to continue developing the ‘me’ I had created on the other side of the world.

I was 21 when I left. I’d obviously travelled abroad before, but always on a return ticket. This time was different, though. I was LEAVING to do an entire degree in Australia, and then...well I guess I’d have that part figured out when I got to it. Sitting at the airport with my worldly possessions rolled neatly into a very large backpack I watched as I broke my Mom’s heart. I was so ecstatic to be going and she was...well, she was very quiet. We sat next to each other and she held my hand but I don’t actually remember her saying anything. At the time I didn’t know we would have so many of these goodbyes ahead of us, but in the beginning it was so easy for me to choose to walk away.

My new life was everything I wanted it to be. I was studying something that I was incredibly passionate about. I lived 15 minutes away from the beach (and would often go there instead of class), so I was fit and tanned. I was getting a lot of interest from girls and had a growing network of creative and supportive friends, most of whom were queers and hippies. I thought none of this would have been possible for the ‘me’ that existed in Normal, Illinois, but looking back now, this ‘new life’ wasn’t far off from what I had in college in Illinois. The only difference was that my Illinois life was geographically confined - I would have to live up to all those dreaded expectations whenever I ventured off campus. In Australia I could wander the whole country, and did, and only ever had to be who I wanted me to be.

In the 1.5 years it took to complete my MSc I probably called home less than 10 times, and only when prompted by a pleading email. In fact, I just looked back at some emails from 2005 (2 years after I left). One, titled ‘Where are you?’, simply says “We are worried about you.  Haven't heard from you in weeks.  Grandma says that she is saving her money to come and find you (she asks every day if you have emailed).”

It’s not that I didn’t want to speak to my family...it’s just that I didn’t have much to say when I did because I was witholding a significant part of my life from those conversations. Phone calls would inevitably conclude the same things: work is steady; I’m doing well in school; the weather is fantastic; I need money. I didn’t talk at all about the friendships or relationships I was developing because I couldn’t edit those experiences well enough to ensure my Mom didn’t ‘figure it out’. Even though it was my choice to withhold that information, I resented them because of it.

If I could write myself a letter and post it back to 2003 I would beg myself to regularly invest the time to keep in touch with my family. Even though I wasn’t in a place to give away much of myself to them, they always gave me everything I needed and the silence they received in return was incredibly disrespectful. It’s ironic that the whole time I was hiding from them what I thought would tear us apart, they were showing me that their love was unconditional.

I finished my MSc in 2005 and symbolically burned every page of my dissertation in a bonfire in my backyard. It was so liberating and it truly felt like an important chapter in my life was concluding. Of course, I hadn’t figured out what I was doing next but I knew I didn’t want to go back to the USA. My only option would have been to move back in with my Mom and return to the ‘old me’ and I wouldn’t consider doing that even as a temporary measure. No, I wanted to keep the momentum going so I chose the only other ‘in’ I had, which was to move to Edinburgh, where some of my Australian friends had moved a few months earlier. Of course, the fact that the woman I had been seeing was there had something to do with that decision (I mentioned it was an ill-thought-out plan).

So as my Australian student visa expired, I started another new chapter in another new place on the other side of the world. To be fair, it was a bumpy transition and I spent a lot of time wondering what the hell I was doing here – it’s cold, it’s dark, the people are generally quite grumpy and it rains a lot most of the time. By June I had resigned myself to the fact that I would have to go ‘home’, but was dragging my heels on putting those wheels in motion. I figured I had until my UK visa expired in October to figure out my next move and I wanted to have fun in the meantime.

Then I was sidelined by a love that was so big it would completely knock me off course...

Welcome Home

Welcome.

Apparently they let you put anything on the internet these days. This blog? It’s free. All I have to do is direct my thoughts into type, submit and *poof* there it is...out there for general public consumption. The true merit of this will surely be proven in time...

As I write this first entry, I’m closing down my life in 2010. This time of year always brings on a lot of personal reflection. How did 12 months pass so quickly? Did I make the most of this year? What will 2011 bring? It seems to me that 2010 is bringing on a lot more reflection than previous years. Maybe this is because I turn 30 next year and for some reason this particular milestone is driving me to get my ducks in a row in a ‘cosmic universe’ kind of way.

To be honest, my life is pretty damn brilliant. Even in the middle of this recession, I’ve got a lovely flat in Edinburgh to call home, money in the bank and a career that will take me places. But most importantly I’ve got an amazing family...and I only started to fully realise that over the last 18 months.

I’ll go into a lot more detail about where I come from and how I got here through future posts, but for now here’s a brief overview: I grew up in the Midwest in the USA and caught a real fever for travel at an early age. After graduating from Illinois Wesleyan University with a BSc in 2003, I moved to Newcastle, Australia to complete a Masters degree. When I finished that, a series of somewhat ill-thought-out decisions led me to Edinburgh, Scotland where I met the woman of my dreams. I completed yet another Masters degree and became a professional in Edinburgh while our relationship blossomed and on 20 August 2009 we got married.

Now, I know I’ve been protected from most of the bad stuff that happens to a lot of people in life. I’ve benefitted greatly from a family who is in a position to emotionally support my constant habit of doing things the hard way and financially support my various educational endeavours even though my choices have ultimately taken me to the other side of the world from them. When I left the USA in 2003 I don’t think any of us could have imagined that I would end up settling abroad. But it seems that I’m kind of stuck outside the USA now because of one single aspect of my life: I’m not in a heterosexual relationship.

My partner and I are married in the UK. I use the word married because that’s what it feels like to us, but in legal terms we are in a Civil Partnership. Regardless of the terminology, we are completely committed to each other and the UK government recognises our domestic arrangement in pretty much exactly the same way it would a marriage between a man and a woman. We are afforded the same legal rights and responsibilities and I can stay in this country as the spouse of a UK citizen.

There are a growing number of States that recognise same-sex relationships in some way, either as a marriage or a civil union. This year is particularly relevant for me because the Illinois Senate passed Bill 1716: Religious Freedom and Marriage Fairness Act which, when signed into law will mean that we can register as civil partners in my home state and celebrate with friends and family. However, a number of layers of legal barriers still exist that, among other things, deny me the opportunity to sponsor my partner to come live with me in the USA. So, despite being a permanent fixture in my family, under the current legislation she will never be more than a tourist in my country.

In effect this is a blog of my personal journey in trying to understand and attempt to overcome the various inequalities I stumble upon in trying to reconcile my family. Taking the time to write things down in a rational way will help me deal with the complex emotions that these inequalities evoke; but I’m putting it out there for complete strangers to read because I think it this is an important medium to raise awareness about and to get other people’s perspectives on the issues and logic that make up the so-called American underpinning this legislative framework.

I’m really looking forward to this journey even though I know it’s going to be a tremendous personal challenge. Thank you for joining me along the way – you are welcome to stay for as little or as long as you like.