So am I ok?

That's what my friends ask. Am I OK? How do I feel about it. I usually take a big deep breath. Then maybe I take a sip of the chardonnay I poured before making the call. (I'm human, OK?) And then I tell them the truth: yes, I'm OK. I'm good. I'm happy. R has opened up. He's expanded. Imagine, spending six decades with this secret sitting on top of you, suffocating you, keeping you from being who you are. Imagine all the shame. All the terror. Because you happened to be born into the wrong body. Well, when our therapist told him what he's known since he was two and demanded that he was a boy and not a girl, that he was a man, something changed. Something shook loose. Shook into place. And he became the man he's always been. He became more of the man I've always loved. Even though he was a she and I thought I was with a woman. And that's where it gets complicated. Because while I've always thought of myself as bisexual, I did not choose to be with a man when I chose R. I chose him because of his smile and his charm. I chose him because of the way he looked at me. I chose him because of the way he treated his animals, the way his hand felt on my face. I chose him because I was getting out of a bad relationship with someone who was unhealthy and he was there, like a song and a flower and he was easy. Then. I chose him because he was a woman with small but beautiful breasts too. And those will be going. I will miss them. That hurts. I am feeling so many feelings. All the feelings at once. So no, I don't know if I'm OK. Yes, I'm thrilled. And yes, I'm OK. And yes, it is much. So, so, much.