I started T in December. The session felt different today and I've realised I had a real sense of feeling contained, in quite a magical way, for the first time. I wondered if anyone else has had a similar experience. And I just feel like I need to tell it, I hope that's okay (I'm new).

I sometimes write things down on my phone for him to read if I can't say them. I did that this week, then kept talking instead of letting him read as it was something difficult.

Then I got up, stomped across the room like an angry toddler, and sat on the floor, which I'd been wanting to do for weeks. I was afraid he wouldn't offer to join me (I struggle to ask him for things) but he asked if I wanted him to sit with me.

He didn't laugh when I said I'd been so agitated about choosing somewhere new to sit, I'd actually looked at the photo of his therapy room on his website. He said he would have put better photos up if he'd known. It took me a moment to realise he wasn't making fun of me but was being completely serious.

He said he was torn as he wanted to read what I'd written, as it was important. "But then I won't be here, with you." He asked if he should read, or if I wanted to email it to him right then. I emailed it.

Then he said: "I want to know about your teeth. What's going on?" I mentioned a few weeks ago that I have to have some work done. There was something about him remembering and asking about it. It just felt so caring.

I found myself telling him something else, and about how it reminded me of some other things, and made me feel the same way as those things. I kept saying: "And because of X, I felt..." but I couldn't finish the sentence. I just kept saying: "I felt..." and trailing off.

The first few times I said it, he just stayed quiet and waited for me to finish. By the third time, I was crying. And then he nodded and said: "I understand." And in that moment, finally, I felt contained.

And now I keep thinking about how I'll have to stop therapy one day, and imagining how that loss is going to feel, and being afraid to let myself feel contained instead. Thanks, brain.