I officially changed my name last week.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I handed over the form, our marriage license, and my passport. As I sat down to wait for my paperwork to be processed, I cried quietly in my chair. This is not surprising for me because all endings make me cry: co-workers leaving, moving to a new apartment, the end of a weekend at home.

A friend/co-worker knew where I was and walked by the social security office at the just the right time.  She came in and told me that yes, this is a big deal and it’s ok to be sad.  She gave me a hug and I sobbed into her arms and something about that moment felt so good. I was honoring my feelings.  Honoring the name I carried all my life and the memories and people associated with it. And then I stopped.  Because even though I changed my name, a name that is a big part of my identity and one that I cherish deeply, I was ok.  I had made the right decision.