It was nearly 1:30 a.m. by the time we collapsed in bed, hearts pounding, sweaty. Neither one of us thought we’d be able to sleep. The carpet burns and throbbing scratch marks were almost too much to bear. Then the moaning started again, and I knew it had been a mistake to get a cat for Jasper and Simon on Valentines Day. Our first mistake was probably renaming the cat. It was 6 years old, after all, and had gotten used to “Button.” We just weren’t a “Button” family. But the cat had arrived suddenly after a friend called saying that her 10-month-old son was hospitalized with a respiratory infection.…

“We were there to suffer. The suffering wasn’t a by-product; it was the point. I started to accept this, and quit fighting it. I realized that facing anxiety and pain without any way to escape is the course’s primary teaching tool. After hours of struggle, my mind settled. It began to observe my situation objectively. And then the physical torture and mental anguish started to melt away.” See full article in Macleans.ca