kaberett | I know there is strength in the differences between us/I know there is comfort where we overlap

P told me he'd never seen me looking as comfortable and happy and relaxed as the evening I spent lying on a beanbag in a living room, with my polymer around me and fed.

He also pointed out that I can now walk through ticket barriers at tube stations without breaking stride as I swipe my Oyster.

There's something very soothing, very calming, about sitting on a Piccadilly line train, stationary in the dark, above ground, with the rain on the roof and windows, as the District line tumbles by above.

Back when I first started seeing this counsellor, I talked about how I felt I was repotting myself, giving myself more soil and more water and more space.

This evening, we talked about my grandmother's garden: about the sacred rockery, planted to remind her of the Alps; about the camellias she grew from cuttings; about the parsley and the redcurrants and the strawberry patch. About her garden as her sanctuary and as nourishment and as roots and as legacy, and about her garden as changing and organic and growing.

And we talked about it as something - an idea, a seed - that I can carry with me.

I think perhaps that I am now large enough, strong enough, that I can be planted out.