...It's 11 PM as I write this. TECHNICALLY, eleven hours ago, there was a window: I could have done stuff until two, but I was dead-tired and I knew, KNEW, that I needed a nap to be effective at work, so I made the sacrifice and slept. (Albeit longer than intended.) The rest of the day? Work, work, and...more work, working longer than I should. It's exhausting, especially when dealing with things in a frustrated mood which towards real-life matters I have been becoming increasingly-so.
If I had to guess at the cause, the two most probable (and perhaps linked) are obviously my mental state what with me being bipolar and all (there's a reason I say I'm emotionally unstable--I GENERALLY act all nice and calm, but I DO snap at people in times of stress), and also the trigger of the frustration about my life being the way it is. Leaving aside the depression half of the bipolar disorder and looking at the stuff I've posted about my life...well, there's a lot there to hate. I'm not happy. I want so much more than...than...THIS miserable state that I find myself in.
Now, granted. There's a ton of good stuff in my life, far moreso than in most people's lives. As far as good lives go, I'm probably living one of the most privileged lives you can have. My overall mental state (toughness to the painful things) also means that I'm rather well-off overall in that department...so where's the problem? The problem's in how the majority of the happy stuff is a lie. I could probably go through the list with a little bit of difficulty, but it shouldn't be too terribly hard to figure out this sort of thing. In particular, THE lie, about me being someone I'm not, the lie that will in all probability get me disowned if the truth comes out.
And work's one of the worst reminders I have of it. That I am living a lie, that out of fear, I have prevented myself from being the transwoman that I should be. And with the growing feelings, the growing love for my inner self, there's the growing resentment that while I may be working very, very slowly to obtaining that future for myself...it's so far off, so distant, that obviously I fear I may never get it, thus the anger. I don't want to be trapped in something I'm not, anymore. I want to be free, to be me. Yet here I am...not.
On a related note, I thought during work about how something I might eventually do is cheaply 'paint' my nails with some markers, an idea that hit me because working in a pool, I have access to those special markers that can record things through plastic and in the water, and thus, they're surprisingly long-lasting. I accidentally got a stain of one on me yesterday and it's still there today. But that got me thinking..."Hey, wait a minute...this sounds vaguely familiar." And that made me realize...when I was younger? I actually DID color my nails, using the exact same idea that I more or less am thinking of someday doing now! Back then, as a child, I was just playing around and thought it looked nice on me, but in hindsight, it's yet again reminder that me being a transwoman isn't something I invented in my mind; I've been one my entire life, and just took me until recently (well, relatively-speaking) to realize it.
So that was a nice note on an otherwise kinda-hellish day. I really need to figure out how to balance my life, because I can tell that if this keeps up, I'll end up killing myself. (Not committing suicide, mind you. Just metaphorically shooting myself not just in the foot, but the head. As in...I need to figure out how to get sleep so I don't end up having deteriorating physical and mental states--well, beyond my natural mental deterioration anyway--and I need to get all my schoolwork done and I need to keep everything in work perfect to keep my job and I also cannot afford to lose mafia games because right now, mafia is serving as my emotional support; it keeps me sane, so I need to make sure I don't end up neglecting there, too.) I'll figure it out. I have to.