For most of my life, I believed that other people could save me. Feeling so frightened and helpless as a child, I always turned to people outside of myself for help.

Whenever I was frightened for myself or my sister, and then later in life, when I was stricken with crippling panic attacks, I always reached for the phone, when that was one of the only ways people communicated.

Nobody ever helped.

It seems like ancient times now.

Even today, when I fell into a deep snow-covered hole, I had this impulse to call someone, to be soothed perhaps. That’s what I always did.

But I didn’t today. I learned a few years ago that the only person who can save me is me, and that realization changed my life.

I worked the fall out, thought it through, wrote about it. I’m good. Anybody can fall into a deep hole covered with ice and snow.

When I broke down eight or nine years ago, I was getting sick. I had given up.

I was diagnosed with diabetes, and my heart was beginning to break. I had not been to a medical doctor in years, and a nurse practitioner who had become my friend sat me down and talked to me and told me if I didn’t save myself, I would die.

A therapist I trusted and respected told me the same thing, in equally blunt terms.

You need to change, she said, you have to want to, nobody can do it but you, nobody can do it for you. When you need to call for help, call yourself. Stop looking for other people to save you.

I knew they both were right. I was a mess. I knew no one was coming to save me.

I was living a remote and loveless life and had been alone for most of six years.

There are lots of ways to kill yourself, said the shrink. You are killing yourself. She was right. I expected that the meaningful part of my life was over, I couldn’t imagine a different experience.

But I did. I heard these messages. I was sick of being lonely, sad, and terrified.

I was sick of living in delusion and anger and chaos. I was sick of never having sex or knowing love or sharing my life with someone. I love dogs, but they are not enough for me, they cannot be people.

I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life like that, and time was getting short.

So I decided to save myself. And I did save myself. I saved my own life. There is nothing like it.

I survived. Almost everything about my life changed. It was the most terrifying and thrilling time of my life. The stakes could not have been higher.

The therapist said she had never met anyone in 30 years of practice who worked harder than I did to change and save myself.

That gave me hope and inspiration.

When you save yourself, life changes quickly and forever.

I came to view my life differently. I knew I needed love and opened to it.

It was right across the street. I stopped taking medications and started being authentic and self-aware.  I had become a kind of addict; I slept with the help of pills. I stopped taking them.

I was my new medication.

I said goodbye to the therapists and holistic practitioners and took my chronic illnesses to the places they needed to go for me.

I stopped hiding, and I stopped lying to myself and other people. I had open-heart surgery and watched my numbers.

I felt stronger and clearer, more independent, and yes, more authentic. I stopped lying to myself or other people. All things considered, I am healthy. I take care of myself.

I faced the worst things about myself and acknowledged the best things; there were more than I thought. I’ve not had a panic attack since.

When I have a problem, when I fall and scare myself, I don’t call anyone. I talk to Maria or me.

If I am worried about money, I don’t panic about it; I deal with it head-on.

For years and years, I was afraid to look at my bank balance; I had other people do it. Now, I look at it twice a day, morning and evening. I know where every penny comes and where every penny goes.

I am my hero, my soother, my problem resolution center, and the customer support desk.

I always tell Maria everything that is happening to me, but I do not ask her to save me, and she does not offer. We both know that is not love. Love is encouraging each other to be strong and confident.

She is not made of crystal, neither am I.

This can only come from inside, not outside.

There is a difference between empathy and help and saving. We have both learned it the hard way but perhaps the right direction.

So I saved my life. I see it differently. It looks different to me. I know I can take care of myself. I know I can deal with the problems that life offers. I am not looking for a perfect life; there is no such thing. I am looking for a meaningful life, and I have a meaningful life.

I love taking photos and writing on my blog, so that is my life now, the home of my creative self.

I discovered all kinds of strengths and resources I had not ever used. I wrap problems in my arms and hug them to death. I no longer run from anything. That feels good to me. I feel good to me.

I nurture it more, protect it, take care of it, defend it. I am free to liberate the part of me that has always wanted to do good.

And I see myself honestly and clearly. I told Maria just today that I don’t need to be a saint to be good or to do good.

I don’t need to be a saint at all. All I need to be is me.