April 13, Wed, 7p - When the thought of waking up tomorrow makes you sick to your stomach

 I don't know how I ended up here but I feel physically ill. I've been crying pretty much all day. I'll feel silly for crying for nothing and stop and sober up and then before I know it, I've been crying for an hour.

The thought of waking up tomorrow to this pain is filling me with nausea and dread. I feel like I'm being walked to my death.

There's a phenomenon in chemo therapy of patients getting sick just thinking about how sick they're going to get after chemo.

That's how I feel - like I have a big speech tomorrow and I'm going to arrive in my bloody underwear. I used to dread Fridays because I would be alone for 2 days. Now I dread the end of the workday because it's another 7 hours before I can sleep and have to wake up and do it all again.

Now I'm just dreading waking up tomorrow.

I can't imagine feeling this for even one more second. I've been lying in front of the open window for the last 6 or 7 hours to feel the sun and the breeze and nothing is helping. 

Was reaching FIRE early actually sent by the Devil because he knew it would break me. 

It was my last wait and see.

Every time I've gotten this low, there's always been something I can say, just wait and see if you still want to be gone once you reach X.

It was graduating high school, then college, then college again, then moving, then working, then making money, then making 6 figs, and lastly reaching FIRE.

There's nothing else to wait and see.

It NEVER got better. It's been 20 years of data. 

It never got better.

It's been 30 years of living the dream in the US. It never got better. 

I've waited and I've seen. I can't even see myself waking up tomorrow to have to face another day, can you imaging having to stick around for 30 more years. I gave myself a goal of just making it to 60. 

Will I even make it 6 more minutes.

This is what it feels like to be me. 

No one would know to look at me. My bruises are covered. They're on my brain. They're in my heart and have imprisoned my soul. I feel like I'm living with a controlling abuser who has isolated me from my family and friends and tells me I'm worthless except it's no big, bad man, it's my Mean Brain.

Is this how I die?

I can't even catch my breath.

I did all this living to die like this?

This doesn't seem fair.