As hellish as possible

Saw my pdoc on Thursday. It was the first time he's seen me since I left the hospital on November 29th and he seemed genuinely concerned that I'm doing as poorly as I am. He blamed the medication, saying that it has only been about 2 weeks, so it hasn't fully kicked in yet. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it's not the meds at all, it's the fact that I have completely lost the will to live.

I did ask for something to calm the increasingly frequent and severe panic attacks that have been plaguing me. When he asked if I had any thoughts on what I'd like to take, I requested the Valium because it's the only thing that's really provided any relief. Instead he decided to give me Ativan, which I've been on in the past with little relief. At that time I was taking one pill every morning, swallowing it whole as instructed. This time he told me I should take one at the onset of the panic attack and dissolve it under my tongue so that it gets into my system faster.

Seems pointless to keep taking all these meds when I know the end is just around the corner, but if they offer even a 5% reduction in my suffering between now and then, I'll take it at this point. I'm so fucking tired of hurting.

Everyday I can feel the universe conspiring around me to make my final days as hellish as possible. I'm not entitled to even a fleeting moment of peace or happiness. Anything that I try to accomplish gets turned into a nightmare. It's gotten so bad that I feel as if I should just take to my bed and stay there except when my daughter needs me to drive her somewhere.

I honestly don't think I've ever wanted out of this miserable life more than I do right now.