This birthday was different from the others, and I think the reason was the great love between Maria and me, which has only deepened and become richer over our two decades together. Maria wrote about this on her blog and said it beautifully.

She wrote about me: “I’m Glad Jon Was Born…” and vice versa.

I think the reason my birthday was special to me this year had to do with how special our love and marriage have been to one another. We went out to our favorite Inn for a one-day birthday celebration and decided to stay a second day.

We ended up coming home earlier than expected – my back did not agree with the very soft mattress, and I didn’t prepare for it. The very kind Inn found another room for us and urged us to stay, but we both agreed that we wanted to come home. We didn’t need another day, as long as we were together.

We love that Inn; it was our safe hideaway and resting place during the first frightening years of our marriage when we felt – and were – very alone in the world, and frightened.

We both felt the same way. We wanted to go home. That was our escape; that is our safe place, that is our peace.

The Inn is wonderful, and we will go back from time to time, but the real place we wanted to celebrate was at home, on our farm, with each other, with the animals. On the way home, we were eager to get there, to follow our rituals, be with our animals, to sit in our chairs, to read our books,  meditate in silence, and to talk to each other.

Thinking back, I sensed a new reality, a new truth.

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For some years, Bedlam Farm was the home of endless panic attacks, worry, and fear. We were both badly damaged as children, and in much the same way. I’m just now realizing how bad it was.

We both went to work helping each other, reassuring one another that panic attacks were not real, talking to each other, holding each other, crying with each other at times, comforting one another. We often needed to get away.

Over time, we came to trust one another to believe what we told each other; panic attacks are never about the truth. Anna Freud persuaded me in her book that we panicked when we were lying to one another, fearing things that were not real and not dangerous. The truth is rarely as frightening.

With this healing, we each got stronger, built on our trust and love for one another. We also supported each other, assured one another, and, most of all, loved one another. Both of us were the person we had been waiting for to love. Both of us understood the other. The anger inside of us was intense; it was also always brief. Love was stronger. My anger was deep.

The joy of my life has been Maria deepening and growing into the remarkable person she was, not the person who was driven into fear. It’s the kind of change that can only be made within us; no one can talk us into it. But having a safe place can make all the difference.

We had plenty of arguments, a lot of yelling, some hurting, deep pain. But we always ended up in a better place; we always grew from it and healed from the pain of our early lives. We never quit on one another.

The big news on this birth was Maria’s sudden revelation – and my understanding – that things really have changed. We went to the Inn the day we got married and have been going there ever since. But it is no longer a place to escape, hide, or heal.

Our life is like that; our farm is like that: our home, our connection, and our love for one another. That is our place of retreat, of home, of safety and love. It could have been worse, but it kept getting better. It’s fine to take trips, but it wasn’t something we desperately needed.

I credit old age with some of this. It has been good to me. I am learning to think.

We never thought of leaving or escaping each other; we fought tooth and nail for each other, loving each other as much or more than we loved one another. Neither one of us had ever experienced love like that; we were learning as we went.

Our password for stopping panic attacks was simple: “You are safe. You are not in reality.” Over time, that was enough. It hardly ever happens anymore. We know what panic is; it’s not reality.

This realization that something was different was powerful; we felt it all night and all day. We spent the day celebrating and then being happy. We have helped each other get to the place we wanted to go to all our lives.

On the way home from the Inn yesterday, I said this to Maria, who was wondering what had happened:

“You know what this means? Jon and Maria have grown up.”