I’m an anxious person. It started when I was a teenager and got worse through college. Those days, it was mostly limited to the stress of school, making money, trying to figure out what to do with my life.

Things took a pretty sharp turn on September 11, 2001, when I spent that morning across the street from the World Trade Center. Suddenly, I found myself afraid to fly, ride the subway, hang out in crowded areas. Work stress gave me more anxiety than ever. Relationship issues magnified. I had several panic attacks. Travel was difficult, sleeping was difficult, everything was difficult.

Time is a luxury.

We have two children. Preschoolers, full of energy and questions and drama. Our younger son, the baby, the sweetest kid in the world, turned three years old last month. How did that happen? How did I turn around and my infant was three?

Done with bottles and diapers, we decided something else needed to be potty trained and adopted a puppy last week. A ridiculous little terrier mix currently torturing our four cats—all of whom thought this house was their safe haven—and requiring constant trips to the yard every day.