Weekends are hell.

Day Four

I'm tired. I'm tired of barely sleeping, lately. I'm tired of waking up to go to the same place I was the night before. I'm tired of the crazy binging I've been doing lately; emotional eating. I'm tired of stepping on the scale to see an increase in my weight. I'm tired just thinking about how I'm back at square one, 145 lbs as of tonight, because to get down 10 lbs is going to be hard work.

I try to find will power with everything I do. I try to keep my head clear and focused, and always looking forward. I try to think of how these long, weird hour shifts will end soon, once I day off is heading my way. It's just extremely hard when my work days are my boyfriend's days off. Weekends are my hell, pure and simple. I could have never imagined hating weekends any more than I do. They once were my sanctuary, my free hours to soak in daylight and sleep, and company. Now, it's just become the time when I'm running on my highest emotions, when I barely sleep enough and push too hard to just have fun. Weekends are me working from 10 am until 5 pm, spending nights out until 1 am, then finally rolling into bed around 2 am just to wake at 8. It's too repetitive, and too draining. I hate weekends.

I plan to get the red out of my hair tomorrow, if I wake early enough. I have to be at work by 2, which is awkward, and a long night shift. Then, I come home, sleep, and manage to do it all again on Tuesday. I want to find out my Dad's schedule, and see if he'd like to catch a movie Wednesday, late morning or early afternoon. I'd like to do that, since I would never be able to go out anytime with him while he has time off. I just hope it would work out. I don't know.

I'm just going to sleep now. It's all I really care to do right now.