I'm not depressed; I'm exhausted

I've been feeling a peristent anxiety creeping around the edges of my mind for a few weeks now. It's not coming from anyplace specific; it just is. It's there when I'm awake, and lately, it has been seeping into my dreams.

There's nothing particularly wrong. I think that it's possible this is a warning flag my brain is waving in front of my consciousness. Something about obligations and frustrations.

I think it's time to re-evaluate my life and its structure at this time. I ask myself every day, "What do you want to do?"

The answer that keeps coming up is one word: Quit.

I can't quit my job, but I think it might be time to reduce the rest of my life to the minimum daily requirements. Those requirements are: sleep, eat, hygiene, job, deal with bills and mail, do laundry, tend to house as necessary, watch TV, use Internet. Nothing more.

There is no energy for social life (not that I have one), human connections, reading, researching things that don't matter to anyone but me, volunteering, gardening, the nonprofit, shopping, or anything else.

I wish to hold no responsibilities except for those I cannot escape (my job, my bills). I will become a recluse.

I need a plan.