Three and a half years ago I met my therapist–my first and only therapist–for the first time. I haven’t been keeping track, but I’m guessing I’ve sat in her office roughly a hundred times. By anyone’s standards, I’ve come a long way. The journey has–without a doubt–changed the course of my entire life for the better. In one way or another, the things I’ve learned about myself and the world around me in that office impact me positively every day. I think about this stuff constantly. Hell, I started a blog about it. (You’re reading it.)

Tonight’s blog is number 178. That’s five days shy of half a year–almost six months of daily writing and self-reflection. Even for someone obsessed with mirrors, it’s a lot. Aside from going to therapy, however, I’m coming to believe it’s the best the thing I’ve ever done. Little by little, I’ve come to understand myself more, come to understand others more. Word by word and post by post, I’m growing in self-acceptance, balance, and authenticity. I have a tendency to get wrapped up in the outer–the number of readers I have, the number of likes I have on Facebook, the amount of money I have in my wallet. But when I think about what’s inside and what really matters, I’m forever grateful for that first trip to see my therapist, that first blog post on March 31, 2017. I didn’t know it at the time, but these two things would change me from the inside out.

About a month ago my therapist suggested I buy a plant, so I did. Honestly, I don’t have a green thumb. I mean, I can water plants and keep them alive in a pinch, but I don’t talk to them, pay them much attention, or buy them pretty things. Plants, after all, aren’t twinks. Consequently, I’ve never had a plant that lasted very long. But this time around, I intend to do better. For the last few weeks, I’ve watered the plant as instructed, kept it in a good spot, even gazed at it fondly once or twice. I haven’t named it yet, but I’m thinking about it. Maybe Grant–Grant the Plant.

That sounds good.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve been listening to an audio series by Caroline Myss about archetypes. The theory is we all have them, and they play a huge–huge–role in how we live our lives and the way in which our souls develop. Whether you realize it or not, you speak the language of archetypes constantly because your soul speaks in symbols. This is the way dreams work too. Anyway, as an example, recently my mom said, “I know you’re not a caregiver.” Well, she was right. It’s not that I can’t be caring, but don’t ask me to be a nurse (like she is), or watch over a sick relative. I simply don’t have the caregiver archetype. But if you need to learn how to dance, how to write, or–say–what an archetype is, I’m your guy because I do have the teacher.

With that background laid out, last week Caroline was discussing the gardener archetype. She said some people just have it–the green thumb. They can make something grow no one else can because it’s IN them. They respect the spirits of plants, and the spirits of plants respect them and respond to them. If this sounds like you, you’re probably a gardener. If it doesn’t, you’re like me–something besides a gardener. Anyway, when I heard all this, I immediately thought of my Aunt Tudie. She LOVES gardening–she’s great at it–always has been. Oh my god, I thought, she has the archetype!

So tonight I took my “therapy plant” down to my aunt’s house to repot. I recently bought a bigger pot for it so that it will have room to grow, along with some peat moss. Y’all, this plant is already becoming an expensive little son of a bitch. But that’s okay–it makes oxygen, which I’ve heard is important.

Watching my aunt work tonight was nothing short of beautiful. It probably wasn’t a big deal to her, but it was to me. You know how you tend to take your relatives for granted? Like, Oh, that’s just my aunt. As if someone’s life stops when you’re not in it. Well, I guess I’m guilty of this. Maybe I’d just never paused long enough to watch my aunt do the thing that she loves. Tonight she slowly removed my plant from its old pot and gently tugged at the bottom roots. Then she added the peat moss to the new pot, put the plant in, and lightly packed down the dirt with the care of a mother rocking a newborn to sleep.

“Have you always loved plants?” I asked.

“Oh yeah,” she said, “I’ve always had my hands in dirt. I love watching things grow–the way something can start as the tiniest seed and then absolutely blossom into the biggest thing.”

After my plant was potted, my aunt pointed out the new growth on top. “Oh, I hadn’t noticed,” I said.

“See how they’re drooped down? That means they need more water. But the fact that they’re there means the plant is doing well on your kitchen table.”

Then she noticed the dust on the leaves, so she took a spray bottle, misted the leaves with water, and used her fingers to clean them off–one by one. Y’all, it may come across strange on “paper,” but I started crying. The way my aunt held those leaves–there’s not a person alive that wouldn’t want to be held that way. She was so tender. Personally, I won’t forget it for a long time–the night I recognized my aunt for who she is–a talented, skillful, and kind gardener.

It’s not a little thing.

Before I left, my aunt showed me a plant she had potted beside her carport. On top were buds that had dried out, and she picked them off and tossed them in the yard. She said next year there would be flowers everywhere, and she figured that out by trial and error. I’ve thought a lot tonight about the seeds we plant, sometimes when we don’t even know it. I guess that’s what I was doing when I started therapy three and a half years ago. Once my therapist told me that everything I ever needed was already inside of me–if she did anything, it was only to provide an environment in which I had room to grow. So I’m reminded tonight about the importance of environment, self-care, and kindness. Sometimes–it seems–it’s necessary to “repot” yourself. As I continue to write every day, I’m reminded to treat the process and myself with respect, trusting that as even the tiniest seeds are planted and cared for, they’ll absolutely blossom and grow into the biggest things.