We love our therapist. We saw her last night. Gender is one of her specialties. She gets it. Everything about it.
Lina and I are getting impatient with one another. She doesn’t understand why I’m not all adjusted and happy. I don’t understand how she doesn’t understand. This is a totally normal byproduct of our abnormal situation.
Says our therapist to me: Of course you’re grieving. You’ve lost your husband, your lifestyle, your identity.
To Lina: Diane’s reaction is like someone grieving on your birthday instead of celebrating.
Lina is like a bird with new wings, soaring. I’m a bird with clipped wings, hurtling to the ground. Splat. But, wait, my wings, flapping furiously, are working just enough to keep me airborne.
She Was the Man of My Dreams 