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.

swirly
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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Posted in music, writing | Tagged , , , , | 20 Comments

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)…


—s

 

©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

got gifts?

Sorry for disappearing again… but here I am. Try to control your excitement.

And I do recognize that this post is kind of obnoxious especially since I haven’t been around. I have been so busy (which is both good and bad) and add to that my back pain and extra holiday anxiety on top of my usual worries… it’s just… ugh.

But I’m going to do this anyway. Because Christmas is coming. Whether I want it to come or not. And time is running out. Who knows? Maybe someone will find something they like.


At my RedBubble shop, not only can you find all sorts of things I’ve already designed, but since you have the pleasure of knowing me (pleasure. yes, that’s the word I’m going with…), I can customize something for you. Just contact me and I’ll do my best to design whatever you’d like. Well, if I can. And if it doesn’t infringe on any copyrights. I don’t want to get sued.

RedBubble has lots of sales and discounts, too. (Right now, I think it’s 20% off.) Good for you, bad for me (totally cuts into my meager profit margin). But that’s okay. Everybody wins.

Just an idea of what’s available…
Holiday CardsNotebooksJournalsBagsPillowsStickersPhone Cases and other stuff, too.

Some of my holiday cards (and there are lots of non-holiday ones, too)

A few of many journals… all also available as notebooks and more

I mean it when I say there are a ton of products. Buying or not, I hope you enjoy looking around.

And if I ever get a break from Christmas decorating, making new cards, shopping as little as possible, cleaning, cooking, driving kids around, and whatever else comes up, I will try to be around more. I have four posts that might be almost ready to go… but I’ve had no time to finish or edit. See? I’m not a total loss.

In other news, I’m glad to report that this afternoon, it’s finally not fucking raining. Maybe I’ll get to see the sun someday.

Hope you have a lovely day.

 

©2018 what sandra thinks

         

Posted in art, design, holidays, shop | Tagged , , , , , , | 29 Comments

I have officially started…

… my Christmas list.

You know, because I’ve been such a good girl this year. [Yeah, I can’t keep a straight face either.]

Gift request #1:

Stay tuned for more.

Only 32 shopping days left. Plan accordingly.

 

©2018 what sandra thinks

         

Posted in coffee, humor, life | Tagged , , , , | 27 Comments

asleep.

bed.

In search of the elusive ‘solution‘ to the crushing feelings of sadness that creep up on me daily, I seem to have fallen into my own special fucked-up coping mechanism. Something unhealthy. You see, I have not wanted to admit this because I find it humiliating, yet I still do it.

Here it is: In the morning, after I drop off my son at school, come home, and later drop off my daughter, I go back to bed. I tell myself not to do it. I tell myself that I’m not going to do it. Then I tell myself I’m just going to relax in bed and read for a little while. But I know I’ll fall asleep, and I always do.

And I’m glad it happens.

Some days, I sleep late enough that I wake up with only enough time to grab a shower and maybe eat before it’s time to pick up the kids. Basically, I’m sleeping my life away. It’s bad. Really bad. And it’s really sad, too. And I know it. This is not what I want my life to be. But I feel empty. I don’t know how to cope with the overwhelming, unbearable, uncontrollable feelings of utter despair that stop me from facing the day.

I actively tell myself, even aloud sometimes, that it’s okay. It’s not as bad as my brain tells me it is. But I can’t kick the feeling. It’s physical as much as emotional. And fight as I may, the feelings come every day. No matter what. Every fucking day. And it hurts in every way. And I cry. And I hate that I’m crying and I hate that I feel these feelings but nothing eradicates them. I can’t prevent them and I can’t kill them.

I can only cover them up with sleep.

I don’t even know that I’m adequately describing those feelings. I don’t know that it’s possible for me to do so. I feel bored and hopeless and alone. I feel purposeless and pointless and useless. I don’t know what to do with myself. No, I take that back. I can think of plenty of mundane (or even enjoyable) things to do to pass the time—things that are more productive than sleeping. But I lack motivation. I call it lazy. My NP calls it depression. I’m pretty sure she’s right. But that doesn’t help me hate myself any less.

My NP also told me (without any prompting from me) what I’ve said all along. No medication is going to fix everything. [So please, if you want to tell me that I need to have my meds adjusted, pardon my bluntness, but fuck off.] I’m never going to pop some pills and become the fucking mistress of sunshine. That’s not how meds work. What has to happen is I need to change my way of thinking. I need the will to do it. And I need to try everything, even the things that sound ridiculous and corny to me. The meds (which actually did change slightly recently), hopefully, can get me to a place where I can try everything—where I actually have the drive to try everything.

My NP also notices, every time I see her, that I have taken some steps in the right direction. But I don’t see them. I only see my failures. I tell her how things are going, and she finds little things in there that she sees as achievements. I don’t notice them. I don’t acknowledge them. I don’t even notice when I mention them to her in passing like tiny meaningless details. But she says they’re not meaningless.

I really wish she was a full-on therapist because I really click with her. It’s like talking to a friend. And I truly believe that is exactly what I need—someone who feels like (or is?) a friend. But my NP’s not a therapist. I don’t know that I’ll ever find one who I click with in this way. And I don’t have the money or the drive to search.

So I guess it’s nap time.

 

©2018 what sandra thinks

         

Posted in anxiety, depression, life, writing | Tagged , , , , | 39 Comments

random things. #4

random - whatsandrathinks


I have over one hundred unread messages in my inbox. Again I’ve fallen insanely far behind. There is little hope of catching up. I’m sorry. I’m doing the best I can. My best just isn’t very good. I get overwhelmed so easily lately.

I truly hate this awful crop top trend that’s happening. No one looks good in a cropped anything… shirt, sweater, sweatshirt, hoodie… no no no! So stupid. And don’t get me started on ‘mom jeans‘. [And obviously, no offense intended. I have no idea what you’re wearing right now. This could be a total foot-in-mouth situation.]

What the hell is up with all the spam? I try to check my spam folder somewhat frequently to make sure no ‘real‘ comments are landing there. However, lately, when I check, I have so many that I can’t go through them all to see if any are legit. And by ‘so many‘ I mean three or four hundred. I checked yesterday… I had seven. I checked today… I have 326. What the hell? Is it the Russians? I think it’s the Russians.

I have officially surpassed 3500 followers. I mean the WP ones, not including the twitter ones that WP adds to the total. That seems completely mad. What is wrong with you people?? Seriously, though. A big fat thank you… and a big fat hug… to the 12 of you that actually read my blog.

Okay, maybe 23? 42? 57? Oh, but 42 is always the answer.

Thank you to all my fans.

I really hate when someone says (s)he or someone else is ## years young. That’s not a thing! Don’t try to make it a thing. You just sound like a fucking idiot. As the years pass, one gets older. You are 11 years old. You are 75 years old. Old, dammit!!! [For the record, I am FAR from 75 years old. And sadly, FAR from 11 years old, too.]

I was out shopping this afternoon for a coat. Not for me, for my husband. But that is irrelevant. What I wanted to say is as follows— To all stores on earth: Turn off the fucking Christmas music. It’s not even Thanksgiving yet. Hell, I’d be happier if they never played it at all. You know, I read a study (I love studies) that confirmed something I’ve known for years: Christmas music stresses people out. It makes people agitated and anxious. Did you know? I am a statistic.

I also went to Trader Joe’s earlier… while hungry. Just so you know—their dark chocolate peanut butter cups are fucking delicious. It’s okay that I ate them, though, because I also bought a salad. And some oranges.

Okay, I guarantee someone is going to laugh at me for this one… and that’s okay. I deserve it. Sigh. There’s this commercial that airs frequently at night. I usually see it during Colbert or Seth Meyers. And I look forward to it. It’s an ad for Botox. Yep. Botox. For men. And I’m totally in love with this one guy in the ad. He is fucking perfect and I want to know who he is. I’ve searched and searched, but Google has failed me. Google is not supposed to fail me. Dammit.

[Pictures of super hot guy removed due to comments that upset me because they are ruining him for me. *sadness*]

I have to go now. It’s past my bedtime and I need to stare at pictures of this guy for a little while until I fall asleep. Thank you and good night.

 

©2018 what sandra thinks

         

Posted in life, random, writing | Tagged , , , , | 73 Comments

birthday cake.

Yesterday was my daughter’s birthday. She is officially 11 years old now. If you follow me on instagram (which is not at all exciting), I posted about going out to dinner last night… which was delicious. I think I enjoyed it even more than I enjoyed the cake…

Which brings me to the cake… because mostly I’m just posting to show you the cake I made for our little family party last Saturday.

I wish I had something more earth shattering to say, but I really don’t. [Unless you follow me on twitter where you can see my weird-ass thoughts and anxieties play out in installments of 280 characters or less. Especially last night. And today.]

Anyway… have some cake.

 

©2018 what sandra thinks

         

Posted in family, writing | Tagged , , , , , | 53 Comments