I’m getting anxiety attacks since last night. Trying to fight it, I was on Netflix and out of nowhere I just started crying. My hands were shaking; my heart was palpitating. I prayed and called people I trust. I prayed for good news because I don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve been trying and sometimes fighting can get tiring. Sometimes you couldn’t do it on your own anymore.
I prayed. Someone helped me to calm down and said the right words. The shaking and palpitating stopped. I slept and woke up with anxiety still on my sleeves.
And there it was: my good news. I just prayed, without knowing what I need. And God gave exactly what I need. That’s why I believe in miracles, or how mystique the Universe is. You might not believe in God or a supreme being, but believe that there’s something bigger out there—more than your fears and worries. Because that what this good news thought me. I’m having anxiety attacks because I don’t believe on myself, but I have faith that things will be okay even how my feelings convey the opposite—and that belief brought me these little miracles. I’m grateful. I feel relieved now.