I kept reminding myself that everything I had built—my family, my personhood—was unaltered. My new knowledge changed both everything and nothing. My life was like one of those large and complicated jigsaw puzzles that, once finished, displayed a completely different image on the reverse side: a streetcar in San Francisco, the Golden Gate Bridge. Van Gogh’s sunflowers, a self-portrait. Same puzzle pieces. Same materials. Same shape. Different picture.
I haven’t ever felt like any of the news or revelations changed who I was, but they just really added layers of insight.
