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.