My relationship with my partner is officially old enough to drink. While I’m not amazed that we’ve been together this long as I always thought we would stay together, I am amazed that our lives have managed to change so much yet stay the same this past year.

Early last year my partner started to transition. By our anniversary, she had only been on estrogen for about three months and hadn’t come out to anyone beyond close friends. Since our last anniversary, she’s come out to my family and started using her new name. We’ve even looked into getting her name changed in the near future to make it official. More importantly, she has blossomed into herself even more fully. Being the first person to see the parts of herself that she had suppressed for so long has been one of the great honors of my life. Fifteen months of HRT has allowed her to more fully express who she is and become more confident in her personality and body. It’s striking to see her joy juxtaposed against the US’s current government. In our relationship, I tend to find myself as the more resolute one, but it’s her steadfast resolve to be who she is that has kept me going. Supporting her has given me a purpose and something to build toward. I want her to have the best life she can and be herself.

This year I find myself often thinking about relationships. How there are generally two types of relationships: collectors and naturalists.

Collectors want the person they picked and get upset when things change. They have an idea in mind of who their partner is and deviations are met with distrust or anxiety. Other times collectors are the kinds who rip the wings off butterflies. They pick someone because they are vibrant and alive, and once they have them, they make sure no one else can and that they will never be as alive as they once were.

I aim to make my relationship one of a naturalist. Naturalists observe and try not to interfere with whatever is going on. Watching my partner change and grow has been half the beauty of our relationship. Being with her for so long means that I have seen her grow from a teenager to a college graduate to a competent adult and now to her true self on the outside. Those changes have only been positive, and I can’t imagine mourning who she was. She isn’t dead or gone. The opposite: she’s more herself. It’s like polishing away the tarnish to see the real sparkle. When hyping up my partner, I sound like Steve Irwin talking about a crocodile.

We’ve talked about my own on-going tussle with dysphoria and gender weirdness, and she has been so supportive and more willing to push even when I back off from my own feelings. I keep wondering what the next year will bring, but I know it will be good as long as we’re going through it together.

Here’s to another year with my best friend and many, many more.