My youngest sleeps with a little black lantern every single night. Part of the bedtime routine is finding the lantern, which inevitably gets lost in a sea of blankets and sheets through the twists and turns of the night. Once it’s been found, I turn the light on and she holds it close, ready to settle in for the night. Her whole face illuminated by the dim light of a cheap battery operated lantern, she smiles contentedly. “Snuggle with me, Mom. Lie here with me.” Fear subsides. Calm. There’s something so unsettling about darkness. I turned 40 this year, and then seemingly overnight everything started falling apart. My 18-year marriage hit a major snag. My anxiety decided to manifest into frequent panic attacks that would wreak havoc on my entire body. My oldest child started visiting college campuses and casually mentioning that he might be interested in joining the military, thus exacerbating the already out-of-control anxiety. After 18 years of being a stay at home mom, I decided