It was Monday, November 1, 2021, evening. In the afternoon, I had suffered an attack from my mental illness. This is common for me to suffer from my mental illness – hearing voices, uncontrollable thoughts, hyperventilating, anxiety, and, recently, panic attack. As I went through the motions and followed my steps to recovery, I was laying in bed with the intention of falling asleep, after approximately an hour and a half of suffering. Then, I was at peace for a moment and heard that little voice that it was time. I went into that peace and replied in a mental conversation that if You will it, I am ready. I was ready until an abrupt thought passed through my mind that I will leave behind me my husband and daughter with a pension that does not pay out without me applying for retirement. I freaked. I called for my husband and told him what that that little voice in my head said and my fear. My husband lashed out that it was not God that I was hearing, and to cast out that thought. He begged me and I got left between wanting to feel the peace of God and accept His will and denouncing that God’s voice is not what I heard!
I struggled, as a Catholic, and feared that I would listen to my husband and cast out God’s voice. My husband begged me to follow his plea. I could not and I asked to see my priest. . .My husband advised me to call my mother and so I did.
On the phone, my mother who was accustomed to helping me through suffering to recovery asked me the regular questions. Did you remember to take your medication? Did you miss any of your meals? Did you do your deep inhalation and exhalation exercises? I confirmed. At a loss, she advised that my priest would be unavailable at this time because it was already evening. So, she asked my husband to take a walk with me and to see if I was feeling better afterward. Then, to call her back.
We walked and I went through moments thinking I would be okay while looking at the evening sky and the moon. I felt as though this will pass, then I continued to hyperventilate. I was in such a bad condition that I asked my husband for us to see my priest. I phoned Father and spoke, “Father, I am not well. I am in a bad condition. May I ask to see you tonight?” I do not recall clearly but I think I told him that I am to die tonight. Father replied, “Veronica, do you want me to come to you. . .?” I said, “Yes. . .”
When I got back home, I had also already called my mother to come to my home that evening.
My priest, mother, father, my husband, and my daughter gathered in the small living room, while I was immersed praying the rosary. Father heard my last confession administering the sacrament of reconciliation, gave me the Eucharist, and we all prayed from his little prayer book. I received the Catholic act of anointing of the sick from my priest. As I listened to my priest, I was immersed in prayer. I stopped hyperventilating and I was better again.
The reason I share this event is that it is pivotal in my life. I could have died. Once in the past, the little voice had said that I was ‘complete’. I understood that I would never get sick again. After Monday, I realized I misunderstood the voice. Since Monday, God has cared for me and I pondered on my writing which is my connection to God. I pondered where my writing should go with the same intention of providing stories, reflections, bible verses, etc, to encourage persons suffering from mental illness, depression, and anxiety to choose to live a relatively happy life (hopefully with God because I can see him as being the only way). I still ponder and will let you know soon if you don’t already see me improving in my book and blog writing sharing my life experiences by just writing about God in my life and encouraging others.
My priest and I concede that night God knocked on my door and I answered.