My father rushed me to his pharmacy last night to give me some medicine and to take my blood pressure.
"You're blood pressure is perfect, but your heart is just racing," he said. "You're not having a heart attack. Your pulse is strong."
"Dad, give me something to take," I replied, pleading. I felt so terrible.
My father stepped back into his pharmacy to get a pill.
"What is it?" I asked as I swallowed it and drank some Sprite.
"State secret," he said. "You will feel really sleepy in a few minutes and I guarantee you will feel better."
He was right. I don't know what he gave me, but I felt better in thirty minutes. A calm washed over me and I went home to go straight to bed.
This morning I woke up at 2 AM and went for my morning walk. There was a chill in the air bespeaking of fall and I wrapped myself in my favorite fleece pullover. I prayed to God as I walked for him to help me and comfort me.
Dear father, bring this soul some comfort. Help me through these tough times. I know I only come to you in times of need, but I need your help. I am scared and feel out of control. I am not doing well. If you can see it in your heart, please remove these panic attacks and cure me of what ails me. Thank you and I love you.
A soothing calm overcame me and I felt not so alone. I can see why Marx called religion the opiate of the masses. It gives you hope when there is none. I have tried so hard to nestle a spirituality within me -- coming in conscious contact with a God or power greater than me. It is my last, best, and only hope where medications and therapy have failed me. It feels strange talking to myself and God, though. I never was a very religious man, and now I find myself crying out to some power in the sky. My rational side wants to scream, "This is crazy!" The line between crazy and religious zealot is blurred as I don't know if my talking to God is a symptom of my mental illness or a yearning desire to have contact with my maker. It is maddening and is why I always avoided religion once doing well on my medications.