“The day I was born I was born free and that is my Privilege.”

Paranoia’s Cure
April 10, 2010, 4:27 pm
Filed under: Tabloid

Sometimes I forget, shame on me, that the ultimate solution to all my life’s problems is just a prayer away.

I’m Miss Paranoia, I admit, and thinking about things, too much that is and most of the times unnecessarily repetitive thoughts, causes me stress. Last holy week, I’ve been stricken with a disease called parotitis or mumps, as they simply call it. After having been to a clinic-hospital-clinic, I’ve finally had in my hands antibiotics that the experts say will calm off my swelling parotids. But then, I felt, luck abandoned me when I had seen my total bill of more than a thousand pesos for a 21-piece capsule cure. I accepted the fact about my wasted antibiotics given to me at an hospital ER because the ENT specialist at the clinic I visited the following day asked me to buy myself new medicines, but after seeing that medical receipt, I felt robbed.

I complained to my mother the minute I arrived home, munching a banana in between my rants. She just listened and said after a while, “You are saying you are now broke but then you still have some to spend on bananas and strawberries. Enough of that and be thankful still.” I was silenced with what she said and felt ashamed after realizing what it meant.

I was cured of my mumps, there was swelling still but the pain when chewing was gone, after taking two or three capsules. “I will be relieved of this facial swelling in lesser time than I had expected,” I told myself. I was in good spirit. I slept around 9:00 p.m and got out of bed 9:00 a.m the following day, a good 12-hour sleep except for when I woke up, I had stomach pains, which later turned to indigestion. It was Holy Thursday and Good Friday and I felt that I was the one to be crucified. My daily meal during those days were rice with salt, banana and water, which I would usually throw up after fifteen minutes or so. But with God’s grace, I survived those days.

Wednesday, my sick leave was over and I managed to go to work. I thought I was cured but I was still nauseous. Thursday night I went home sick. Friday night I begged for His mercy, told Him all of my worries, that I can’t function well in the office if I continue to have an upset stomach. Saturday morning I was cured.

This morning, in a bus going to work, I came to that realization of how powerful prayers can be. It is a re-learning, a basic necessity that we all forget when we already set foot on oasis.

Now, I remember one time when I was in deep thought about something while I was at work. It bothered me a whole lot that for a moment I refused to edit. I uttered a prayer asking to calm me down. After a few minutes, I was surprised when I heard someone saying, “Wag kang mag-alala, wag kayong mag-alala.” It appeared that a team manager on the other bay was coaching his subordinates about certain work matters. To them it just meant work advice, but to me it meant something. Those are the exact words I needed to hear at that time. It is Him relieving me of my anxieties.

The same alleviation is what I felt when I cried and told Him my story of grief at a certain point in my life, when I almost lost hope. It was summertime when suddenly a strong wind blew towards my direction but not to falter me but to embrace me, to tell me that everything will be all right. I was appalled by His immediate response. From then on, I associated Him with the wind.

I plan to share just my first statement and not tell the story behind it. I am not too open when it comes to this topic, which is a mischief, I know, on my part, but then I guess it’s God’s will that I write about this.

Let me be free of him, my Father. And teach me how to be patient.

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