Jennie's Page About Family

I guess I'm getting to that age, you know, where I ought to put together one of these. ;) Most formulaic personal websites have them. So here goes...

I've never felt close to my blood family in the traditional way; never really loved them nor missed them when away. I haven't seen most of them in years, and it doesn't particularly bother me. I don't dislike them, either, but I just don't feel those things which talk shows tell me everybody is supposed to feel, and neither do I feel miserable for the lack of that. My childhood was, for the most part, a solitary experience, with my parents, despite their good intentions, failing to communicate with me when it mattered. I did have a great friendship with my brother, Tom, then; we never fought the way it seems most siblings do; but I guess I just didn't learn to connect to people emotionally until later, until I fell in love with somebody from my school. Blood family relationships didn't trigger those feelings of affection.

In recent years I've found it easier to be sociable with my parents and with my brother, largely as I have come to terms with my childhood losses and learned to set aside my anger. I doubt I shall ever feel the family love thing which seems to come naturally to others, but it's peaceful enough now, and friendly, and I'm starting to be able to enjoy their company.

When I first met my partner Donald, I was really uncomfortable about getting to know his family, having worked hard to disentangle my own and being in no rush to acquire another. I was pleasantly surprised, though; they're all really nice people whom I like a great deal. It frustrates me that Donald will not permit me to be Out to most of them, as I feel I cannot be so close to people whom I cannot be fully honest with - it feels disrespectful - but I respect his wishes. I just wish it was easier for me to explain my other family members to them. I am fortunate in that my own parents and brother have always accepted my queerness and my polyamory, and seem perfectly comfortable with it; I feel that I can introduce them to anyone with whom I am seriously involved, and it's nice to be able to have that feeling of togetherness, not being expected to compromise one for the other.

The people whom I think of as my family now - the family I have chosen for myself - are the most important to me. I reject absolutely those assertions that 'a group of friends can be a substitute family', but that it is not the real thing. Society for the most part accepts Donald as my family, so why not other people to whom I am committed without a sexual relationship existing? Why does sex have to be the defining issue? It seems to me that emotional commitment and love should be important regardless.

I know there are still some people out there who would not consider Donald as family to me because we are not married. Bollocks to that. I say that committing oneself to somebody, loving hir and protecting hir and striving always to be there for hir, is worth just the same with or without a bit of paper; and that real, demonstrable commitment counts much more than a written contract which most people sadly tear up within a few years anyway. If others wish to marry, well, I accept that there can be practical issues which sometimes make it essential; and if it simply makes people happy, I will be happy for them when they do it; but it is not something which I could feel morally comfortable with for myself. I have loved women - it is an accident of fate that the partners I am with now are male. Why should I marry Donald when I would not have been permitted to marry a beloved girlfriend? I cannot accept an institution which claims to exist in the name of love and then claims that some forms of love don't count. Likewise, being somebody who is able to love more than one person at a time, I cannot accept an institution which holds that monogamy is the only real form of love. Different forms of relationship are appropriate for different people. Why should sexual fidelity be considered more important than other forms of commitment? Again, why should sex be the defining issue?

Love is a rare and beautiful thing. It should be supported, in all its manifestations. It is only one love, albeit with different guises; and I dare to speak its name.

I have been living with Donald for fifteen years now. He has long resisted making a website of his own, but has finally established an online presence with this livejournal.. I intend to remain with him for as long as we both live, no matter that there may be difficult times. He gives me strength and enduring support, but he isn't afraid to criticise me when he feels it's necessary. He stands up to me. I can never make relationships work with people who don't. He's as intelligent as I am, more so in some ways (especially mathematically), and he's a creative person, so he doesn't bore me. I can talk to him about pretty much anything. We have no secrets from one another; I, at least, don't feel any need for them. I count myself extremely lucky to have blundered into such a fine relationship whilst paying as little heed to sense as I ever do in such matters.

Donald first contracted leukaemia fourteen years ago, after which he spent most of a year in hospital, another two years on outpatient chemotherapy, and three years in remission (but with various health problems caused by his treatment); then, in May 2000, his cancer returned. That November, he had a bone marrow transplant, an extremely risky procedure which, mercifully, he survived, though he was left with a whole lot of new problems. His immune system will always be fragile now, and his stamina low, and he's been damaged by a number of opportunistic infections; but, all things considered, he's doing pretty well. We now have something approaching a normal life, which was more than I'd dared hope for. It is difficult, though, to adjust to a series of such dramatic changes, and things have been further complicated for us as he's had to adjust to the difficulties caused by my illness and increasing disability. Our relationship doesn't work the way we once imagined it would, but it does work, and we're happy together.

Donald and I are hoping that at some point we will be able to have a baby using embryos created with sperm stored from before his transplant. The process of obtaining the embryos made me very ill and I was unable to conceive at that time; my own medical condition complicates things, and I've needed a lot of nasty hormone treatment. We now have only one chance remaining, and are saving it for when my health improves. I could pay for further treatment, but I'm not stupid - it could end up seriously damaging me, and I don't want to bring a child into the world unless I'm going to be well enough to look after it.

Besides Donald, I am involved in a serious relationship with Stuart, who posts to alt.gothic as Potatojunkie. We met when he was in a long-term monogamous relationship and I was happily settled with two partners, not looking for more; but things change, and sometimes people gravitate towards one another in a seemingly inexorable manner. When he was single, I told myself that I was too busy and he was too young, and did my best to resist him for several more months, but resistance was futile. When we realised we were both going out of our way to spend large amounts of time together anyway, we gave up and fell in love. Everything happened very fast thereafter, but it continued to make astounding amounts of sense. We exchanged rings and made plans to be together permanently. Four years down the line, it's still every bit as wonderful.

Stuart is twenty five and works as a web designer. He also reviews music and does some impressive work as a photographer, specialising in insects and architecture. He has a passion for science. He likes potatoes and Therapy? and ants. He's very patient with my neuroses and supportive, both psychologically and practically, with regard to my health problems. I'm hoping he can teach me more about that Earth thing known as 'fun'.

Donald and I live together in the House of Kadath, in the St. George's Cross area of Glasgow. It's a gorgeous place, large and bright, overlooking a pedestrian plaza where kids play football or risk their lives taking skateboards along railings. (Thus, as the saying goes, I love in triangles and live in squares.) I have never felt more at home anywhere, at least not since my Gran's cottage, Staplewood, was sold. It's a comfortable sort of household, efficient but relaxed and friendly. I work from home, so it's all the more important to me to have a pleasant domestic environment and people around me who can be friendly and civilised.