a to z challenge theme reveal #atozchallenge

It’s time [well, it’s past time… I’m late… there’s a shocker] for me to reveal my theme for a challenge I’ve completed every April since 2016. The A to Z Challenge. I have huge reservations about participating this year… but I signed up anyway.

I still can’t figure out why I’ve had so much trouble being here lately. I want to ‘talk‘ to you all but I struggle to ‘enter the room‘, so to speak. I think I’m kind of embarrassed and ashamed that I’m such a mess. I’ve been working on myself for so long yet here we are. I’m a failure.

But… I will attempt to do this challenge… which, hopefully, won’t be another failure. But if it is, I deserve it this time since I’m setting myself up.

I was just thinking…

This is no surprise if you read my post from last week. It’s kind of a non-theme. Unless you consider me dumping my thoughts a theme.

My original plan was to have short posts… a sentence or two. But I am not holding myself to that. Some posts may be longer. Some may be something other than words. Some may be something I haven’t thought of yet. I guess you’ll have to wait and see. As will I.

p.s.— For the record, I hate the tone of this whole post but I’ve rewritten it at least five times and I give up!

©2019 what sandra thinks

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oh honey. #poetry

Oh. My. God. I wrote a fucking poem!

I haven’t written a poem since October of last year. But I wrote one. I know, right? I can’t believe it myself.

do you remember
how perfect we were?
the first time you touched me
oh honey, I was sure

we had everything
it happened so fast
our love came easily
oh honey, you were my last

but maybe for you
the memories died
or only the bad endured
oh honey, I hurt inside

too good to be true
that tore us apart
of course I cried for you
oh honey, you broke my heart


©2019 what sandra thinks


Posted in life, poetry, writing | Tagged , , , , | 37 Comments

I was just thinking.

[This is not me. Just FYI.]

I really need everyone to stay the fuck out of the kitchen while I’m making dinner.

I wonder if I should try to come up with one sentence, not unlike the one above, for every letter of the alphabet. And there’s my A-to-Z theme.

But seriously. What would I even call that theme? “I’m a total bitch!”? “Don’t test me!”? Or just use the title of this post? “I was just thinking…”? Hmm… I may be on to something.

I did come up with a few [other] ideas. It’s a miracle, really. I’ve begged for suggestions… here… on twitter… but nothing speaks to me. And if I’m going to do 26 posts in a month, the idea needs to speak to me.

I will, however, let you know if anything literally speaks to me. Like, voices of unknown origin. Because that would be totally fucked up.


©2019 what sandra thinks


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random (and not-so-random) things. #5

random - whatsandrathinks

Hey! It has only been ten days since my last post! Amazing. Fucking amazing. And so… here we go.

Spotify is not good at shuffle. I made a fucking playlist. I’d like to hear all the songs on it… not just the same few over and over again. I guess this is what I get for being too cheap to pay for premium.

Ever since Valentine’s Day, I feel the need to eat a piece of chocolate every day. [And before you get excited—no, I did not receive chocolates from my tool of a husband for Valentine’s Day. I got them from my daughter. PlusthebagsIboughtonsaleafter. Ahem.]

I really want to fall in love again. Or for the first time. I’m not sure I’ve ever been in love. I’m sure I’ve convinced myself that I have been, but that’s not real. People tell me it’s not too late for me, but they’re just being nice. I know it’s too late. This thought brings me to tears every single day. And as the days pass, it gets worse.

Speaking of the giant hole in my heart… my life has turned out nothing like I imagined. Please do spare me the talk of ‘making it what I want now‘ or whatever such crap. [No offense.] I can’t make my life what I imagined. It’s too late. I’m speaking of what I imagined my life would be between about age 20 and now (maybe even between 13 and now). That has passed. Nothing I do now can change those years. Fixing those fuck-ups, even if I could, won’t fix those years that I imagined so differently. And let’s not forget that at this point in my life, I don’t have the ability to make changes anyway. Not sure if I ever will.

Sorry. That sounded really really bitchy.

I wish life for my kids was the same as life was for me when I was a kid. I know I’ve said this before, but I can’t say it enough. Everything about being a kid was so much better back then. If I knew what I know now about how my kids’ lives would be, I’m not sure I would have had kids at all. This world I’ve brought them into? It’s a living nightmare.

I’m sad about the A-to-Z Challenge this year. I’ve participated every April I’ve been blogging—2016, 2017, 2018. I don’t want to miss a year. But as you know, I haven’t been able to write. And I haven’t even been around. I don’t have an explanation for that. I don’t know the reason. It’s not like I’ve been so busy with other things. I’ve been hiding, I guess. Why? Don’t know. I feel more alone and isolated than ever, yet I can’t get myself ‘out there‘ at all… not even an online version of ‘out there‘. I don’t have the ability. Or the will. I am weak. I think I have given up subconsciously. I say subconsciously because I certainly didn’t consciously decide to give up. It just happened without my consent. So here we are.

All of that being said, if anyone has any simple ideas for A-to-Z, I’m open to suggestions. Although I cannot possibly promise anything.

Hmm… this started off well enough but it went to the dark place. I guess everything eventually does, doesn’t it?


©2019 what sandra thinks


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I’m here… but…

This post has been in my draft folder since the 14th of December. I just haven’t felt like I was good enough to be around anyone… even online. But then I was isolated and I felt worse.

Thank you to those of you who reached out to me whether in comments or through email. I needed that more than I can say. More. So much more. I wish I could give you a giant hug. It’s hard to get through the days when you feel like no one cares if you even exist.

Rather than write a whole post about my disappearance, I thought I’d go ahead and publish this now-edited post from December. [But if you’re curious, I will tell you whatever you ask about said disappearance.] I hope you’re all still here. I hope you know that I didn’t disappear because I didn’t want you, my friends, around. I am just drowning in my own personal hell. But I promise to answer every comment as soon as I can.


I can’t seem to take little things at face value. I pass right over the little positives that go on in my life. I don’t even notice them. I only notice the bad things.

Little things. I can’t seem to make them matter. Unless they’re bad.

I tried a new recipe that my whole family loved.
I treated myself to fancy coffee and an incredibly predictable and sappy Hallmark movie last weekend.
I spent the day with my daughter and her best friend ‘shopping‘ (without buying) and eating ice cream.
I am actually writing a blog post after a long disappearance.

You see, I should stop and think about those little things. Even right now. I should think about them. And I should realize that they are a big deal.

For me.

I’m not a ‘normal‘ person. Doing these things isn’t just a matter of course for me. These are huge accomplishments for a person who so often can’t bother to get out of bed until one o’clock in the afternoon. Some days I feel like showering and getting dressed is the equivalent of climbing a fucking mountain. Overwhelming and pointless. [No offense to mountain climbers.] I do it, though. Every single day. That’s a positive! But… I should be up and dressed earlier. Boom. There’s the negative.

I can’t stop before the ‘but‘. I can’t hold on to the positives. I cling to every single negative, though. Big, small, huge, tiny—every single possible negative thing—even ones that haven’t happened yet. On the rare occasion that I do notice something positive, it is immediately followed by the word ‘but‘… and I negate it.

Successful new recipe… but I’m sick of everything else I make.
Thought I could write a better story than the Hallmark movie… but I can’t write anymore and I’m probably not good enough anyway.
Spent the day with my girl and her friend… but I couldn’t take them anywhere really amazing because I don’t have the money.
I’m writing a blog post… but I haven’t written any fiction or poetry in forever and this is just another pathetic post about my fuckedupedness. Yeah, that’s a word now.

I think this also speaks to my inability to live in the moment. I don’t do that. Like, ever. I am in a constant state of regret about the past and worry about the future. Constant.

But. But. But.

My negativity knows no bounds. I can say positive things (yes, I really can), but (there it is again) there is always a but immediately following. And that but negates the positive thing. It negates it to a point where the positive thing doesn’t even exist for me anymore. Yet somehow the negatives are true and real. All of them. Even the imaginary ones.

My life is full of buts. No, not butts. Buts.

By the way, this afternoon, my son didn’t have phone service at school so he couldn’t tell me that he had to stay after… and I managed to not have a total meltdown wondering if he was kidnapped or hit by a bus. Good for me! But I shouldn’t have even panicked as much as I did.


And… I’m here today… but I may disappear again [even though that’s not the plan].


©2019 what sandra thinks


Posted in anxiety, depression, fear, life, writing | Tagged , , , , , | 82 Comments

song of the day. #64 #music

song of the day | what sandra thinks

I know I’ve posted this song before, but I heard it today and it kind of got to me in a big way. So… maybe listen to it again. I think it’s worth it.

Wake Me Up | Avicii

I tried carrying the weight of the world
But I only have two hands
I hope I get the chance to travel the world
But I don’t have any plans
I wish that I could stay forever this young
Not afraid to close my eyes
Life’s a game made for everyone
And love is the prize

[partial lyrics]

Written by Melinda Marie Marantz, Aileen Quinn, Mike Einziger, Avicii & Aloe Blacc

I am not currently winning the game… or earning any prizes. I think I lost the instructions… a long time ago.

song of the day

song of the day

Obviously I am not the owner of any rights to this song, video, or lyrics… just everything else… ©2019 what sandra thinks


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missed christmas.

Well, I missed Christmas.

No… not really.

I just mean I missed Christmas here.

I didn’t post any well wishes. I didn’t write anything. I didn’t do a damn thing. Except disappear.

Miss me? I totally understand if you didn’t. It’s a busy time of year. And I kind of just faded into the background.

I was pretty busy. Even after the holiday. Returning a few gifts, entertaining my kids over school break (although the PS4 helped with this), and un-decorating my house.  But since the holiday has passed, being busy feels different. It feels… not great.

Speaking of undecorating…

Christmas is totally different for me now than when I was a child (as I’m sure it is for everyone). But there are similarities, the most significant of which is the post-Christmas letdown.

When I was little, I experienced so much excitement and anticipation before Christmas. And Christmas morning was, like, the best time ever. [My parents totally win Christmas. They made it amazing.] Even Christmas day, after the presents had been opened and breakfast eaten, we would take out our new toys and games and movies and play and watch and have tons of fun. But by the end of the day—and even worse the next day—the excitement had died down. Without the anticipation, the hopes, the imagination going wild, it just felt… bad. A little lost. A little hopeless. It felt like there was nothing to look forward to. Sure, next year. But that was too far away. I would get the post-Christmas blues. And even though it’s different now, it’s also the same.

Despite spending very cautiously this year, I was happy with the gifts I had to give. But as always, I felt guilty for the ones I received. Christmas gave me something to look forward to, though. And I needed that. But it’s over now. And I feel as empty as the punch bowl was after Drunk Aunt was through with it.

I’ve started making a list of projects to immerse myself in now that the kids are back in school. But I have no passion for anything on that list. I kind of feel like it will be a miracle if I do any of those things. But I think I need to force myself so I might be able to avoid the pit of despair I know is waiting for me. I’m already falling into it. I need a rope.

I will add, though, that I am grateful for the time with my family and for their thoughtfulness. I often dread family gatherings but I’m trying to work on that. You know, gratitude. That fucking word.

And don’t even get me going on all the New Year’s shit people spout at this time of year. I hate it. I fucking hate it. A new beginning. Ugh. Resolutions. Double Ugh. Shut the fuck up. We all know that whatever you say you’re going to change in the new year will be back to ‘normal‘ within a week. [mini bitch-session over]

As far as my presence here, well, I don’t know. I have 274 unread emails (post notifications and stuff like that). I don’t expect to get to any of them. And as much as I love writing, I haven’t written anything significant in over a year. Everyone keeps telling me it will pass and I’ll be able to write again, but clearly that has not happened. And I’ve given up. I am not a writer. I am, at best, an infrequent storyteller.

I miss my friends. But being here doesn’t give me the happiness it once did. I want the happiness, but right now, I don’t know where to find it. I only know the places where I haven’t found it.

That being said, I haven’t made any firm decisions about anything. I have no plans to stop blogging entirely. And I will probably never remove my blog. I still have my shop and I’m occasionally on twitter and less occasionally on instagram. I just don’t know how often I will be around.

I am always reachable, though, and always willing to talk. In fact, I’m short on people to talk to. So if you’re interested, hit me up. DM (direct message) me on twitter… email me—whatsandrathinks @ gmail.com (remove the spaces)… or just comment here. I will always read and reply to comments.

Maybe I will post here more often than once every two-to-three weeks. Part of me wants to, but part of me is confused and lost about where I’m going, what I’m doing, and what the point is.

Until next time… (or until we talk in the comments of this post, which would be lovely)…



©2019 what sandra thinks


Posted in anxiety, family, holidays, writing | Tagged , , , , | 42 Comments

holiday busyness.

I have been busy. I blame Christmas. Or I credit Christmas, depending on my perspective at any given moment.

I’m tired. I feel stressed… burnt out. But I don’t feel hopelessly bored and scared and useless. Well, not entirely, anyway. It feels like my life might actually have a little bit of meaning. A little. Very little. And that’s an improvement. But I’m still doing too much sleeping at the wrong times. Busy or not, I still want to be in bed, sleeping, escaping everything, all the time.


Ahh… see? There’s always a but.

I’m losing steam. Don’t get me wrong—I’m doing loads better with the holidays this year than I did last year. So far, anyway. But I struggle with the focus on money. I struggle with that all the time, but at this time of year, it’s magnified. Like, times a thousand. Everywhere I look, it’s in my face. And the people who flaunt it. Ugh. Shoot me.

Maybe I’m a hypocrite, in a way. I’m not religious. My beliefs are largely non-existent. So maybe it doesn’t make sense for me to care about Christmas at all. But for as long as I can remember, Christmas has been about family and Santa. So I guess I celebrate my own mythology… the magic of Santa.

Don’t worry. I know he’s not real. (Probably.) But even at my age, I enjoy imagining that he is. Hey, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he really is out there.

If you’re out there Santa, send me a sign. Or a really hot guy. Or loads of cash. Or magic. Or love. Or any of the other things missing from my life. Please. Anything. I won’t be picky. I promise.

Busy is more good than bad, though. At least I think so. Being bored and empty and purposeless was killing me. Literally, it seemed. But because I’m me (and you know me… or most of you do), I’m worried about what happens after Christmas is over. The busyness will fade. I’ll be bored and purposeless again. My life will lose meaning.

Or none of that will happen.

According to someone I trust—someone whose opinion means something to me—I could be busy all the time. I could have been busy before. I just wasn’t capable of it. Mentally, emotionally… I just couldn’t. Somehow, Christmas gave me the ability to do things. I don’t know if I’ll retain that ability after December 25th. My head says no. My trusted-someone says maybe.

But she thinks more of me than I think of myself.

I pretty much equate myself to something about the level of this picture. Of a reindeer’s ass.


©2018 what sandra thinks


Posted in anxiety, depression, holidays, life, writing | Tagged , , , , , | 31 Comments