Almost 60 years ago, a psychoanalyst in New York City prescribed 5 mm of Valium every night at bedtime so I could sleep.  I had been having panic attacks all my life, ever since I wet my bed until I was 17.

I took the valium at night for more than 35 years and was eventually addicted to it. After my breakdown, I stopped taking it and began a long series of different medicines and sleeping tablets, from Benadryl to melatonin to a dozen other things to help me sleep.

None of them worked most of the time; the problem was extreme anxiety and continuous panic attacks from my bed-wetting days to getting older.  It entered my neural system. I didn’t figure out how to avoid the panic and fear until recently, at age 76. Wow.

I finally got the help I sought – when I was much older.

I did the work I had to do to understand the fear, to understand me, to face the trauma I was carrying around (the undiagnosed Dyslexia also), and ease the anxiety. It was the longest and deepest struggle of my life. It took a lifetime. I didn’t want to die that way.

I knew I had to heal this wound inside and not just look outside. My spiritual work and meditation were an enormous help, helping me understand who I was and what had happened. Spiritual direction got me started on healing. In the final analysis, spirituality is all about being happy. I’m happy.

I was usually afraid to sleep when I was young. Bedwetters often fear sleeping, and they dread having accidents (or lectures from  fathers). Sleepless nights were the norm for me, always.

This week, after decades of work, meditation, and therapy, and facing up to the truth about me came to fruition last night. It was one of the biggest nights of my life.

For many reasons, a great therapist and a great partner, I began to understand that the fear was not passed along in my genes; it came from trauma. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but I did a lot of wrong things if that makes any sense to anyone but me. I blamed myself for being afraid and doing the things terrified people do to soothe themselves.

In recent weeks, the panic attacks stopped completely, and so did much of my anxiety. I learned I am strong, open to love, doing good work, and living in peace and harmony. It is a beautiful feeling, liberating and full of promise. I won’t die that way.

I love my life, I love my age, I love my work and my life. There is no reason to be afraid. My first natural sleep in decades was pure and nourishing.

I stopped my lifelong therapy last week; I knew I was close. She supported my decision and said she was “thrilled” by it.

And last night, and for the first time in memory, I took no medications or supplements or tablets of any kind. I decided that since my panic and fear had finally receded dramatically enough for me to try, it was time to go to sleep. Just saying that makes me want to cry.

(Soft clouds, above)

I credit my writing, blog, and readers for support and understanding. My Dyslexia paled in comparison to this. I’m doing fine with it, despite the word and thought police that swarm like mosquitoes and are now a staple of life in America. I can handle that, also. The delete option is my friend and online therapist.

I am taking full responsibility for myself, my feelings, and how I sleep. My therapist said she would always be there for me, and I intend to be grateful for her but to stand on my own two feet. Something inside of me has changed; it just took a lot of work, a lot of love, and a lot of faith. I have the right to be happy.

I decided to turn sleeping over to my body and give it a chance. I trust it now to take what it needs. It responded beautifully last night.

It was as exciting and strange a night as it was beautiful. I am not a deep and long sleeper, but I needed more than I remember getting without support.

I slept from 10 p.m. to 5 a.m. without interruption, the most extended sleep I can remember having all my life.

Thanks for listening to and supporting me all those years. I intend to do well for you, for me, and hopefully, for many others.