By Mindy LevineI came awake this morning and mentally organized my day while still laying upon my comfortable bed. The slats in the bedroom window shades had somehow shifted and I woke with a thin stream of sunlight on my face. I realized several things at the same time. First is that my waking feels more normal now that my Ambien dose is down to a quarter pill a night. I am almost done weaning from my addiction to this medication, and it is going well.
As a girl, I experienced seven separate sexual assaults. Was I molested? Was I assailed, abused, or merely insulted? It hardly matters how these experiences, which I have happily locked away for the past four decades, are defined.