Yes, it gets better.
In an absolute pit of desperation in the summer of 2019 (so stressed that my blood pressure was all over the place, one minute I'd be crying, the next minute I'd be trying to rip someone's head off, horrible anxiety, felt as if I was being strangled by invisible hands, wouldn't go anywhere or do anything because I thought I might start screaming and never stop, etc, etc) I ended up (basically) wanting to cease to exist.
I can't tell you that there was some sort of magic bullet. I tried HRT. I saw a herbalist for a year. For me, and I stress this is for me, it was the therapy that finally helped. Weekly. Since the summer of 2019. I'd had therapy before, and yeah, made sense at the time, then I'd just slip back and feel as if somehow I'd failed therapy. Not good. Anyway, I found an organisation that specialised in what they needed to specialise in for me. Turns out, I'd managed to tough it out my whole life, but not really. Maybe I'd staved off the worst of it for most of the time. Yeah. No.
I think I realised that I was 'getting better' at the point I passed my motorcycle test - which I'd wanted to do for years. And then, at the grand old age of 51/52, I decided I was going to train to be a history teacher. What a stupid thing to do. The cheek of me, thinking I could go from veteran depressive / anxiety machine / agoraphobic to standing up in front of a bazillion kids a day. Seriously? And yet this is exactly what I'm doing. I don't feel like that person who just wanted to stop existing anymore. I still have my moments, but I'm managing. I now know when I need to crash and how to take care of myself - and that I deserve to take care of myself and be taken care of. I'll never be 'Mrs worry free spontaneity'. I really want that, but it ain't happening. The best I can get is to feel as if I'm living my life and it's a life worth living. It's hard. And there are many tears. But it's not staring into the abyss with the abyss staring back at me.
Hope you find what you need.
Best
EK