My anxiety is getting out of control.  The entire time I'm at work, I feel as if there is a large rock sitting in/on my chest.  When I'm at home, I'm depressed, so depressed.  I either sleep for 10 hours or 3 hours a night and feel just as rested either way.  My house is two floors of disgusting mess.  There are only pathways through the rooms and junk everywhere else.  It's not layers like a hoarders house just one layer of stuff I am too unmotivated to shift.  I have had panic attacks for years and can deal with them better than the everyday constant, grinding anxiety attacks.  I'm angry.  I despise all of the customers who enter our quaint shop.  I do my best to not let my work-partner down but I am fake af with her and she has to know it.  I'm fake with EVERYONE and I hate it.  My passion for my art has dwindled and become another issue which causes me more anger/stress/disappointment with the changing--and wrong--demands of the gallery owner.  Instead of creating, I'm supposed to produce.  My boss is in hospital fighting for his life and I'm not supposed to know it but loose lips and all that.  He dies and so does the business.  And add all the layers of crap that covid has added to everything...I just want to scream and scream and scream.