On death and dying

I've been thinking about death a lot lately, even before Michael, Farrah, Ed and Billy. But the death of Michael Jackson has brought it more to the forefront. He and I are/were the same age, off by only a month and a half. I felt like we had a connection. I listened to his music most of my life, got my children hooked on him, empathized with his screwed up life, stood up for him during all the allegations, etc. I know I'm not alone in any of this. He was a well-loved man. I look at his life and I look at mine. He was a genius with talent far above that of anyone else. He made a difference in the lives of millions of people, and could have continued if he hadn't died. Me? I could die today and the world wouldn't miss a thing. I know, I sound like a drama queen, but I don't mean to. I'm in a bad place again and I don't see the point of living. I wake up anxious, my stomach is in constant turmoil, my marriage is shit, I'm too unattractive and unsocial to find anyone else at this point, I do nothing for society, and I'm miserable. I have no friends, few acquaintences, and I whine a hell of a lot (as you can see). I want so much more from life and yet I know I'll never have it. I don't want to spend the next 30 or 40 years struggling through the day. Sitting at work today I felt useless. I'm surrounded by nurses who are caring for patients, a doctor who is helping people feel better, and there I sit pinning nun costumes to sew when I get home, with a break now and then to sign a patient in or out. That is my contribution to society. A drug rep came and brought lunch today. He was gorgeous. I came in early so I could talk with him, find out what the drugs he promotes actually do. And look at him. I felt like I overdid my makeup, dressed inappropriately, asked stupid questions, was socially awkward. I want to be noticed, but I'm too unattractive to make it work.

My anxiety symptoms recently are stomach, feeling like I can't breathe, and feeling like I have heart problems. In the past, this would disturb me to the point of panic. Now I look at it as, if I die, I die. Hopefully it will be quick and painless. I don't plan on taking any steps to hasten my demise, at least not right now. Sometimes I do think about it. Anxiety disorder has robbed me of my life for 25 years or more. I don't know that I'm willing to give it much more.

Back in Hell

I had about a month and a half of relative normalcy. I was able to go about my life without too much fear. The anxiety was like a program running in the background. Some days it broke through, but it was managable. I went out at night, went to a concert, to an art show, ate out, enjoyed life. But it was short-lived. About a week ago it started creeping back in. Well, two weeks, really. That's when I stopped sleeping well. After a week of that, the symptoms kicked in. It began with feeling bloated all the time, and anxiety that centered around my stomach. It stayed pretty constantly. And the weather turned to hell as well. Literally. The heat and humidity feels like I'm standing in the doorway to hell. That triggers my anxiety. I muddled through those anxious days, hoping they would soon subside. But they got worse. Yesterday I could barely stand to stay at work. I wake up at night with anxious tummy that radiates to my chest and makes me fear I'm having heart trouble. This morning I have concluded that I am officially back into an anxiety phase, and that depresses the hell out of me. I don't want to get out of bed. My house needs cleaning. I haven't walked the dogs in over a week. I'm so tired from waking up all night. I think about how much better off I would be if I were dead. And last night driving home from work I visualized turning in front of oncoming traffic but rationalized that if I did that, they would hit the passenger side and would probably only injure me. I don't want injury, I want death. I would probably never do it, but the idea is liberating. This is not the life I want to live. It is sheer misery waking up only to face another day of living hell. There is no joy is my life. I used to at least have sleep to look forward to, but now even that is gone. Michael Jackson died yesterday. He was only a month and a half older than I am. I was jealous that he got to go. It should have been me.