Instead of the skipping helping (though I took a pill today), I feel just as awful, maybe even worse. I had the runs this morning and I still felt some anxiety even with lorazepam. Okay, is something up there trying to drive me to suicide? Because sooner or later it’s going to succeed. While this still smacks of being chemically induced, I’m still no closer to learning what’s involved and how much each instigator is involved. If it’s not the medication, is it the perimenopause? Or could my brain possibly have happened to break three years ago? Could I have suddenly developed an anxiety disorder separate from anything else that’s going on? My last guess is something supernatural… An evil god, a devil, a demon, an evil spirit, negative energy, etc.

I started feeling anxious at the end of my day yesterday and I was just about to reach for the lorazepam. But then we played a slot game on the TV and I felt better.

My biggest fear right now is that this is never going to go away, whatever the culprit(s). I’m really starting to fear that I am going to end up killing myself because I am so tired of all the physical and emotional suffering I’ve been through for the last three years. I know I’m far from a perfect person, but what the fuck have I done to deserve such suffering? If the doctors can’t help me, who can? At this point, I’m totally losing hope of ever conquering this.

I’m too fucked up to really think much of Florida, and I don’t care right now about vacationing in Hawaii. I just want to stop suffering or die. Why can’t I just be happy, calm and awake, instead of anxious, lightheaded and fatigued so damn much of the time? Is the only way to help me to become some kind of zombie?

I can’t even get excited over a money-making idea that Tom had earlier, or possibly making contact with Randy, the mailman I really liked up in Oregon. A long time ago I sent a message to a Randy H on Facebook who works at the post office. I didn’t think it was him, though. But he finally got back to me today and says he thinks it’s Randy B and that he’s still working there. I contacted the PO online in hopes of getting a call or email from him, but seriously, I don’t give a shit. I don’t give a shit about anything anymore. I just want to stop suffering, and if death is the only way to do that, then so be it.

I dreamed I was hanging out with my niece Sarah somewhere. Her hair was barely to her shoulders and the top part was swept back. It also wasn’t straightened either. Although cut short, she had shiny silver chrome nail polish on. Instead of green, her eyes appeared to be hazel.

As we prepared dinner, she was telling me she lent someone money that she never got back and was upset about that.

Then I received a birthday card from Andy.

Lastly, I was swimming in a small square pool, maybe with Tom and some other person, that wasn’t more than 3 or 4 feet deep. I was contemplating for a few minutes whether or not I wanted to dive under the water since I’d just done my hair. I slowly went under and seemed to have trouble breathing, almost as if I’d been under for too long and couldn’t reach the surface. But then I broke through the water and I dove under again, this time much quicker.