Last night, something important happened to me. I lost faith in my fear and am instead working hard to trust my strength.

I am a strong person in most ways. I’ve written many books, launched a successful blog, married a wonderful person, survived six years mostly alone on a farm, left my everyday world being, and changed my life positively and meaningfully.

The Army of Good has helped countless people and supports the Cambridge Food Pantry well.

I’m proud of it.

At an age when so many people are searching for condos in warm places, I am happy to be on my farm in upstate New York, living with sheep, fending off cold and ticks, loving my donkeys, dogs, a remarkable cat, and three Imperious hens, and most of all, one of the most remarkable women I’ve ever known.

Last night, I had a wicked panic attack over nothing. I’ve suffered from generalized anxiety and also have Dyslexia, and I am no stranger to panic attacks.

But I’m no stranger to strength either.

If I’ve learned anything about panic, it’s that panic attacks are almost always a lie. When something needs to be done, from shooting a sheep to giving up book publishing, I have no fear of change.

When trouble occurs, I don’t panic; I stay calm and focused and deal with it. When panic strikes, I have learned, with help from professionals, that it is almost always a lie. It is, in fact, the way the subconscious tells us that we are lying to ourselves.

I am not afraid of danger; I am only afraid of things that are not real.

Last night, my Iphone went berserk, and it triggered one of the worst panic attacks I’ve ever experienced, and that is saying a lot. I’ve always had mystic faith in Apple Tech Support; I’ve never had a problem they didn’t fix quickly, efficiently, and with empathy.

Steve Jobs created a computer world for people like me, who want it to work but aren’t interested in how.  But Steve Jobs is dead, and Apple has grown beyond his expectations.

There are just too many people with Apple devices to give them the attention they were famous for. It’s just how the greedy corporate world of America works – big is never big enough.

You must keep building until you blow up like a balloon or scramble like Disney. Walt Disney appreciated the small things, not just endless greed and arrogance.

Yesterday, for the first time in my life, Apple didn’t come through for me; the backup I always counted on wasn’t there.

The tech on the phone didn’t even try to fix it; she told me to go to the nearest Apple store.

I felt alone and began to panic. I crossed the line into Crazy, Inc. and saw my life crumbling around me. I called Maria in a panic. We have seen one another through a lot of panic.

Maria graciously offered to get me to Albany in the short time we had for the only appointment that was available.

We had a hellish ride through rush hour traffic and arrived late, rushing through a vast and eerily empty mall. Brian, the very nice and helpful tech there who talked to us, went over the phone and said there was nothing wrong with it. I needed to reset my modem or call my Wi-Fi provider, he said.. it wasn’t really her fault but the Apple tech probably triggered a panic attack.

I felt that I had no backup, no place to go.

Like so many others, the phone has taken on some of the most critical functions in my work and: finances, blogging, and photography. It creeps up on us slowly; we don’t even realize we’re hooked.

The panic inside of me was exploding. Maria and I talked openly and honestly all the way home, and when I got home, the phone was working perfectly, but I was a wreck.

Much of my life is tied up in that phone, I told Maria. Too much. I need to do something about that. Something needs to change.

I heard a voice in my head scream, “Don’t do this; this isn’t who you are,” and I knew the voice was right.

Maria told me my fear was unfounded; there was never any danger to my life or work. Even if the phone were ruined, my life, work, blog, and photos would continue. Maria spoke truth to panic. I heard it.

I sat up and meditated in the car, took deep breaths. My message was clear: enough: great fear.

I don’t trust it anymore. In my meditation and quiet, I saw clearly that fear is not something to trust. It is an emotional geography that responds to triggers, not reality. I am great at dealing with reality, even crises; I’ve weathered scores of crises without panic.

Meditating, I heard a voice deep inside me again,  saying, “Trust your strength, not your fear. Your fear is a traitor, and it lies to you. Your strength is a gift; trust it. For some reason, I heard this message clearly, believing it and trusting it.

I’m giving up on fear. I don’t believe it anymore. I’m sick of it.

I’m grateful for my strength; it will be my bellwether and salvation. I have real work to do, work that I love and cherish. I want to get on with it when I have the chance, push fear into the background, and stop believing it. I have a lot of meaningful work to do, and I won’t spend it freaking out over the nature.

I will not spend the rest of my life in fear nor assume that what I fear is accurate and true. I know I am strong.

If I meditate seriously and work on my breathing every day, I can change the narrative that has too often taken over my emotions. I know I am strong enough to do that. I’ll start tonight.