what sandra thinks

January 15:

What is a life lesson you feel everyone can benefit from learning? 

Don’t give up the fairy tale. 

All my young life I was told fairy tales aren’t real. I was told I would never have my perfect love story. My prince. My true love. I am no princess, but I should have waited for my Flynn Rider. Perfect? No. After all, he was a theif. But he was perfect for her. And me. (Not that I am Rapunzel, but Flynn…)

He’s the perfect man in animated form. Hm. My guy on the bottom right (see end of post) could be a real-life Flynn, don’t you think? I’m sold. Wrap him up for me. I’ll take him to go. Then I will unwrap him and have very non-Disney-friendly fun with him.

Sorry. I’m back from weird animation fantasy land.

My point is: Don’t listen to them. They are wrong.

The perfect man for me is out there. I’ll just never have him because after being told there was no such thing for so fucking many years, I settled for what I had. I figured it was the best I could do. And there was no point waiting around for Mr. Right since everyone told me he didn’t exist.

So here I am with Mr. Okay-but-wrong-but-available-and-wanted-me. And, I’ll be blunt—life kinda sucks. I know now that I would be happier today if I’d waited for Mr. Right. And that includes happier alone, if I was still waiting.

I guess, in a way, I am waiting. But I can’t leave my current life. For a number of reasons I won’t detail right now, I’m trapped. Yeah—life kinda sucks.

Don’t give up on true love. Learn from my huge mistake.

—

   
Mr. Right—that’s my Flynn. Or Mr. Left. Oh, I don’t know.

p.s. — Did you know that when Disney was designing Flynn, they pulled as many employees as they could into a big conference room to discuss what the perfect man would look like? Clearly, I’m not alone with my preference for tall, dark-haired men with facial hair, abs, and a great sense of humor. And he can sing, too. 

©2022 what sandra thinks

January 14:

Write about a challenge you faced and overcame. 

I have a problem with the “overcame” part.

I am currently facing many challenges. Some are new, some I’ve been facing for years. But “overcame“? I don’t know that I’ve ever overcome a challenge. It seems that they’ve just been piling up on top of each other, and now I’ve got a mountain in front of me.

Just an FYI—I am not a mountain climber.

I will be honest with you, as I always am. I saw this prompt last night. I’ve been thinking about it ever since. And I still haven’t come up with anything. Maybe this is one of those “start small” or “take baby steps” sort of things. But I don’t want to write about something small. It doesn’t have to be a big thing. A medium thing would be fine. (My daughter would be laughing so hard after those last three sentences. See penis and balls jokes. But for that, I’d prefer if it was a big thing. Medium? Fuck that. I’m not settling.)

Sorry. Apparently it’s a challenge for me to stay focused on the matter at hand. (I swear, I’m not saying dirty-sounding things on purpose. It just keeps happening.)

Sorry again.

Because of my depression, it’s a challenge for me to get out of bed some days. Obviously I overcome that when it happens or I wouldn’t be sitting on my sofa right now. But that’s not big enough for me. (Now everything sounds dirty.)

Oh my god! I’ve found the perfect thing. (Oh my.)

Challenge: Writing this post.

How I overcame it: I wrote about trying to write it.

Oh! Another one:

Challenge: Stop acting like a twelve year old.

How I overcame it: Um. I guess I haven’t. I don’t think I’ll ever stop. It’s too much fun. (Um. Well, it is!)

I’m sorry for this whole post.

—

   
My next challenge: find one of these men and make him mine. I’ll let you know when I overcome this challenge. So, like, never.

p.s. — I *really* hope some of the future prompts are more inspiring. I’m sure it’s hard to come up with these (oh god), but I wish they were better.

p.p.s. — This post was one of those stream of consciousness/no editing posts. But that’s probably obvious.

©2022 what sandra thinks

January 13:

What does your ideal day look like? 

Should I be realistic? Should this be a completely fabricated fantasy?

Hm.

With everything going on in my real life, I cannot have an ideal day. It’s literally impossible. I would have to be living in a different house in a different place with a whole different set of circumstances. And *I* would have to be different, too. So, realistically, I cannot have an ideal day. (Although today, this helped. Thanks, SM.)

I should just stop now because I’m not feeling very creative. But I will give realistic fantasy a shot. And by realistic fantasy, I mean complete fantasy, far removed from my real life, but with real-life elements. Like, I’m not a fairy or a wizard. I’m still human.

Unreal Realistic Fantasy.
I would wake up early because fantasy-me likes waking up early. I might even wrap myself in a cozy blanket and walk out onto my bedroom balcony to watch the sunrise while my hot-as-fuck husband sleeps a little longer. But he’ll notice I’m not in bed anymore, and he’ll get up to find me. He’ll stand behind me, wrap his arms around me, and kiss my head. I’ll smile and turn around to kiss him.

After some steamy hot morning sex, we would shower and go to work. (See? Realistic—fantasy-me has a job.) Fantasy-husband would be off to the city to his tech company that he started when he was 22. And I would go to the center of our quiet, beautifully peaceful town (I might even walk there since it’s a beautiful, sunny day). I’ll head to the bakery.

It’s not my bakery. I’m content to bake all day without the responsibility of running a business. But the owner is my fantasy-best friend. On fantasy-day, we laugh as she teases me about how dreamy-eyed I was the day I met my future fantasy-husband right there in the bakery. You see, he politely requested meeting the baking genius who made the perfect cinnamon rolls he tried (but usually failed) to resist on a daily basis. When I emerged from the kitchen to find fucking Adonis waiting to see me, I grew weak in the knees.

Fantasy-bakery is there. I promise. Use your imagination, people.

After a day in the bright sweet-smelling kitchen at the bakery, I head home, knowing my fantasy-husband won’t be home yet. He works so hard. And he’s so smart. And funny. And sweet, but never cheesy. And tall. And did I mention hot-as-fuck? But when I arrive at our beautiful two story craftsman home, he is there.

I find fantasy-husband in our beautiful kitchen cooking dinner. I offer to help, but he insists that I sit and relax while he cooks. I change into something comfy and curl up on the sofa with a book. I can smell dinner and it’s making me hungry. And I can see fantasy-husband and he’s making me hungry.

We have dinner. And we have dessert. Both kinds. And finally, we snuggle in bed and talk while I lovingly run my fingers over his chest and abs. I look up until I can see his eyes, and he smiles for me and tells me he loves me. I do the same. After a few goodnight kisses, I drift off to sleep in his arms.

The End.

—

   
Maybe one of these guys is fantasy-husband. Today, I’m feeling hot-as-fuck man number two. (Or I wish I was feeling him.)

p.s. — I am not having as much fun as I was hoping I would with these prompts. But that may be due to my real life falling apart.

©2022 what sandra thinks

January 12:

What emoji(s) do you like to use? 

—

   
I need emojis of these guys. Oh wait!     Yay! But if you’re not reading this on my actual blog (not the reader), it might not work for you. 😐

p.s. — Honestly, I tend to use non-emojis like these: : ) and : ( and : | and my daughter’s favorite: <3.

©2022 what sandra thinks

January 11:

What does it mean to live boldly? 

Whatever it means, I’m sure as hell not doing it.

Hm. I guess it means living with confidence and fearlessness. (Fail.) It means handling anything that comes your way without falling apart. (Fail.) It means trying anything and everything you’ve ever wanted to try. (Fail.) It means creating and living a life you love. (Fail.)

I wish I was like that.

When I first read this prompt, I wondered how I could possibly answer it. And, to be honest, it made me feel like crap. I wish I could live that way. It felt like a slap in the face, especially considering what I’ve been going through lately and how desperately I want to make positive changes in my life.

Okay. Next…

—

   
I’d like to boldly climb these two like trees.

p.s. — I hate this one. It’s cheesy and corny and kind of cliché and I don’t like it. So there.

©2022 what sandra thinks

January 10:

What are 5 things you’re grateful for today?

First of all, the grammatical rule is that you spell out a number as low as five, so the question (as quoted from WordPress) is stressing me out.

Moving on…

I knew something like this was coming. I knew it. It always shows up. And I always struggle with it.

I’ve been told that I can list things as simple as sunshine or coffee or fresh air. But I feel like those answers are cheating. Of course I’m grateful for those things—I need them to live! (Yes, coffee.) I think the answers to this question should be more specific or bigger. Maybe that’s why “write three things you’re grateful for every day” (which I’ve heard a million times) makes me cringe.

Every day I’m grateful for sunshine, coffee, and fresh air. Should I repeat those every day? Of course not, even though people have said that I can. Cheating. But when I’m having a particularly bad day and I can’t come up with anything, I fall back on those. But the bad days are when I especially need to find real answers to this question. So again I say those fallbacks are cheating.

And today I need to come up with five things. Not three, but five. God help me.

one
After yesterday’s post, I am incredibly grateful for my online friends who responded to me to tell me they’re here for me, that they believe in me and support me, that I’m not alone, and that it’ll be okay. Right now, I’m not sure it’ll be okay, but knowing you’re there for me is everything. Thank you.

two
My children. I have made a lot of mistakes as a mother. More than any mother should. But my kids love me anyway. They are so smart and so strong. Over the last few weeks, I’ve been especially grateful for my daughter’s knowledge and determination. She has been giving me advice. As a mom, I feel like I should be giving her advice. Yeah, that makes me feel even more like a terrible mom. But I am so grateful that she doesn’t see it that way.

three
Trivial Pursuit and Pictionary. I’m serious. Over Christmas break, my kids, my husband and I played these games almost every night. We have never had a regular “family game night” and we still don’t. But those games had us talking and laughing together.

four
This cozy hoodie I’m wearing right now because I’m fucking freezing.

five
Sunshine, coffee, and fresh air. And chocolate.

(Yeah, this kind of fell apart after the third one.)

—

   
Obviously I’m grateful for my boys.

p.s. — Is this exercise supposed to make me feel better? I’m told that it will. Maybe I have to keep doing it for days, weeks, months, years for it to “work”. I’m really not great with waiting to see results from my efforts toward some future goal. It’s why I have a history of giving up, and therefore, failure.

©2022 what sandra thinks

January 9:

What do people incorrectly assume about you?

As I have for a few of these, I’m going with my first thought. Which is this:

That I am okay. 

People assume that I am okay. Here, maybe not. But offline? People usually assume that I am okay, and obviously (to you and in reality), I am not.

Maybe this is all wrong. Maybe they know I’m a fucked up disaster. Maybe they’re afraid to acknowledge it.

But if they know, I wish they’d show that they do. And show that they care. Here on this blog, people recognize my cries for help. While I may not be as open offline, it’s pretty clear that I’m not okay. Yet no one tries to help. I understand that often, people don’t know what to do, how to help.

Well, I have an answer.

Tell me.
Tell me that you don’t know how to help but that you are there for me anyway.
Tell me I can ask if I need something.
Tell me I can do it (no matter what “it” is).
Tell me you support me.
Tell me you love me.
Tell me I am not alone.
Tell me I am a good person.
Tell me it’ll be okay—even if you don’t know that it will—even if you don’t believe it.

Because I hate being alone and ignored. And I hate being scared as hell that I’m not going to make it.

—

   
You guys would tell me it’ll be okay, right? I knew you would.

p.s. — I am feeling so fucking alone today that I feel like it’s going to kill me.

p.p.s. — Maybe this whole post is wrong. Maybe people know but they are leaving me to deal with it on my own. I’m sure that’s what needs to happen—I need to deal with it on my own and help myself—but I am struggling (obviously) and no one seems to care or they don’t even notice.

p.p.p.s. — Conversely, I hate when people assume I’m depressed as fuck when I’m feeling good. Nothing ruins me faster than having others assume I’m sad when I’m not. Having depression doesn’t mean I’m never happy or in a good mood. Just like not having depression doesn’t mean someone is always happy and never has bad days.

©2022 what sandra thinks

January 8:

What do you like most about your writing?

Yes, I am a day late. Oh well. 

—

I like that my writing makes people feel.

I’m talking about my real-life writing, not my fiction. I’m talking about my rants, my cries for help, my baggage that I have to unload.

Lots of people have told me that they feel what I write—even if they don’t relate. Someone told me he felt a connection to me because of my writing, and I think it may have been from just a few posts. (Then again, he may have been reading for a long time. We may have talked about that, but my memory sucks. I’ll have to ask him.) People respect my openness and honesty. It’s true that I hold nothing back when I talk about my emotions. Or about most things. I like that I am open, and obviously, that I am honest. (Although sometimes, I feel that I’m too open, and I need to rein it in. I usually don’t, but I probably should.)

I also like that my writing is real. What I mean is I write the way I talk. (Thus the occasional colorful language. I don’t clean it up here nor in my offline world.) Maybe that’s why people feel what I write—because they feel like I’m talking to them. And most of the time, I am. And it’s the truth. It may be wrong, but it’s my truth.

—

   
And the truth is, I wish these guys were my truth.

p.s. — I also like that my fiction is full of emotion, but I haven’t been writing much of that lately.

©2022 what sandra thinks