what sandra thinks

January 7:

What makes you laugh?

Penis and balls jokes.

Come on. Even just the word penis is funny.

Sometimes, my daughter and I will be laughing hysterically, but the boys don’t seem to find us amusing. I don’t know what’s wrong with them. They must be broken.

We literally collected old balls to donate with some other things, and until we brought them to the donation site, we had a bag of balls by the front door.

My daughter: “Hey, Dad, when are you going to get rid of the ball sack?”

Come on. That’s fucking hilarious.

I won’t even get into the 8-inches we got last night. (Of snow, people. Snow.)

—

   
I wonder if they have 8 inches for me…?

p.s. — I am so mature. Everybody says so.

©2022 what sandra thinks

January 6:

Who is someone that inspires you and why?

My daughter.

I may be a bit vague on this because I don’t want to expose every detail of my daughter’s life, but she truly inspires me.

As you know, I suffer from depression and anxiety. It’s a constant, lifelong battle that I’m not winning. Yesterday’s post elaborates on that.

Through genetics or just life, my daughter also has to deal with depression. Yeah, I feel incredibly guilty about that since she likely got it from me, at least in part. But my guilt is not the topic here.

She went through a difficult time that lasted over a year, and then she fought. She refused therapy and medication. I wasn’t going to force her to try either, so she didn’t. Instead, she found her own way. Is she cured? Of course not. There is no cure for depression. (Fucking sucks.) But she is better.

She did a lot of research. She must have done more than I ever have because everything I’ve read says the same thing: support system, exercise, healthy eating, sleep, etc. You know, things that every human needs, not just those with depression. But my daughter found something more. She found something to believe in. She found hope.

Taking others’ suggestions might help, but only if they are right for you. Fighting depression is not a one-size-fits-all battle. You have to tailor things to suit you. You have to find what works for you. You have to find a way to change your own mindset. You have to help yourself.

And that is what my daughter did.

She came up with a plan. If something didn’t “fit“, she changed it into something that did. And she followed her plan. She didn’t give up. She worked so hard, and she still works hard. She helped herself. She helped herself more than I’ve ever seen any therapist or medication help anyone.

She inspires me for many reasons, but the most glaringly obvious one is that she was able to do something I’ve never been able to do—kick depression’s ass. Her depression is still there, but it’s sitting in a corner offstage now, not running the show.

I told her I wish I was more like her. She told me I was crazy. But I stand by my wish. And I stand by her.

And she is only 14 years old.

♥

—

   
My girl does not find these men attractive. It’s disconcerting because I know she wasn’t switched at birth. She looks just like me. 

p.s. — Should I try everything my daughter did? No. She’s doing what works for her. Some of it might work for me, but I have to find my own way. I have to figure out how to change my mindset. Will I drop my medication and go it alone? Not right now, but if I can be as strong as she is, maybe someday. 

©2022 what sandra thinks

January 5:

What is something you wish you knew how to do?

If I have to choose one thing, I know what it is. But I’ve got some runners-up. Here are a few, in no particular order.

• write (no, like, really write books and be good enough to be published and maybe famous)
• draw (way better than I can now)
• paint (I am an artist in several ways, but I’ve always sucked at painting)
• home repairs (all kinds)
• interior design (I’m okay, but my mom is amazing at it (and she’s not an interior designer))
• play guitar (I tried, but I’m hopeless)
• let go (of physical things and of feelings)

Interesting that people always tell me I’m creative, but most of the things I wish I knew how to do (or do better) are creative things. I’m just not that good.

Okay, now on to the actual answer.

I wish I could be positive.

I have been working on this for years. Nothing has helped, and I know why.

I have an inferiority complex. I always think everyone is better than me. I always feel like I’m being compared to others, a few people in particular. But it’s entirely possible that I am the only person making those comparisons. And I haven’t been able to stop.

I lack self-esteem, self-confidence, and self-worth. I think self-esteem and self-worth are the bigger issues because I do have confidence in my ability to do a few things, but I don’t love or value myself at all. At times, I think the people around me would be better off without me. I think I’m worthless. Unnecessary. Expendable.

Another roadblock is my identity. For years, I’ve been seen as the depressed one or the negative one. That, in itself, is a comparison. If I’m the depressed one, someone else is the happy one or the confident one or the successful one. All positive identities. But not mine. My identity is negative. And it’s hard to change one’s identity—in my eyes and everyone else’s.

I do have a couple of positive identities, though. Yet I manage to make them negative. In addition to being the depressed and negative one, I’m also the smart one and the creative one. I may be smart, but where as that gotten me? I make terrible decisions, I don’t have a career, I’m not good at parenting, and I’m not happy. I think I have book-smarts to some extent, but I suck at life. Likewise, I may be creative, but see above. I’m good at some things, but I’m not great at any of them.

But—the reason nothing I’ve tried has helped me be more positive is quite simple. I have to figure it out on my own. No one will ever be able to tell me how I can change my mindset because no one is me. I don’t know what it will take for something to click inside me, but I know that nobody can make that happen for me.

No one is coming to save me. I have to save myself. That starts with convincing myself that I’m worth saving. And that’s no small feat.

However, this doesn’t mean I don’t need a support system. I do. I really fucking do. I need cheerleaders, if you will, reminding me that I can do it and that I’m worth it. I don’t have that (save for one particular online friend and sometimes, my daughter). My mom and sisters see me as the depressed and negative one. They don’t (and won’t) understand what I’m trying to do and what I need. I don’t have any offline friends. I don’t have anyone to go to in the middle of the night (or any other time) when I’m struggling, scared as hell that I’m slipping backwards, spiraling out of control. I am essentially alone in this, and that makes it far more difficult.

Have you ever read anything about coping with depression? One of the first things always mentioned is having a good support system. I have to do this without one. I’m not sure that’s possible. I don’t want to be negative about overcoming my negativity, but without a support system, I lose hope. I need a friend who truly cares to listen to me and encourage me and love me. I need a friend to hug me. In every story I’ve ever written, my main characters always have at least one person (not their love interest) who’s their ride or die. I don’t have that person. (And I really need the hugs. And the late night I’m-freaking-out talks.)

I have a list of things I plan to try in working toward a more positive Sandra. But I have to take it slow. One thing at a time. Overwhelming myself will surely end in failure.

I hope I can have some drama and crisis free days so I can focus on myself. I haven’t been able to do that for months. I’m losing my mind. The very one I’m trying to change.

—

   
I’m positive that I could use many hugs from these guys. And anything else they want to give me.

p.s. — Years ago, I had a boss who once described me as “bubbly”. I had never and have never since heard anyone call me “bubbly”. I guess I was doing very well at showing enthusiasm for my job. Oh, but it was fake.

©2022 what sandra thinks

January 4:

What was your favorite toy as a child?

I know, I’m late. Yesterday was hellish, and I just couldn’t do this. But I’m here now. Rejoice.

I hate to date myself, but I can’t bring myself to be dishonest. So here you have it:

the Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine.

—

   
These are my favorite toys now.

p.s. — I still have a Gameboy. With Tetris and Frogger. Because I’m a freaking 10 year old.

©2022 what sandra thinks

January 3:

Write about the last time you left your comfort zone. 

Um. I am kind of a hermit.

Not really, but I don’t like people, and I try to avoid them. I have some social anxiety. So honestly, any time I have to be around people I don’t know, it’s outside my comfort zone.

   
These can be yours for the low low price of whatever they cost in my RedBubble shop. (Self-promotion is out of my comfort zone. Does this count?)

Lately, even my own house feels out of my comfort zone. My husband is a pain in the ass, my son is very quiet, and my daughter is a really (really) moody teenager. It’s not what I would call comfortable. I often feel like I’m out of my depth here.

But none of this really answers the non-question. I’m not sure I can answer it.

Is that terrible? I can’t remember the last time I did something really and truly out of my comfort zone. My anxiety holds me back. If I’m forced to do something—like, I literally have no choice whatsoever—I manage to do it. But usually not without slipping into a panic before and/or after and sometimes during.

I’m ashamed to admit, though, how many things I simply don’t do. Whether it’s fear, depression, anxiety, self-consciousness, or self-hatred—sometimes I just can’t bring myself to do things. I wasn’t always like this. I used to leave my comfort zone somewhat often. I don’t know what happened to make me this way. Another reason to hate myself. I’ll add it to the (long) list.

This may be my first fail in this challenge. I cannot come up with anything to write.

One time, my psych NP recommended a group I should try attending. I freaked out at the mere mention of any sort of group thing. That is way outside my comfort zone. Unless I had someone to hold my hand and drag me there (literally), I could never do it.

I guess starting this blog way back in 2015 was outside my comfort zone. I was afraid no one would read it or no one would like it if they did. It was also out of my comfort zone to share my fiction and my poetry. And I never intended to write about my anxiety and depression, but that’s tough to hide. I was afraid posting about that would drive people away. I suppose that means that was out of my comfort zone. Maybe. But all of that was years ago. (Now I share whatever I want without fear. Well, mostly.)

I’m kind of sad now. My life is sad. I’m not happy and I can’t seem to do anything to make it better. Because I’m stuck inside a comfort zone that isn’t even comfortable.

—

    
Imagine if I ran into one of these guys? I’d probably panic and possibly faint. Meeting super hot guys—defintely out of my comfort zone. But I might overcome this one.

p.s. — I hope none of the other prompts shoot me in the heart like this one. I feel like such a loser. Where do I get courage? I don’t think I have it in me.  

         
©2022 what sandra thinks

Again I didn’t receive the prompt as I’m supposed to. WP says they are probably going to my spam folder, but they’re wrong. No spam here. Lies. All lies.

January 2:

What is a road trip you would love to take? 

Weird coincidence—I was just collecting some photos of the place my road trip would happen.

I’d hop on a plane to Italy and buy a car. Yes, buy, not rent, because I’d move there and never look back. And I’d take many different versions of my road trip while living there. But I’ll go big for now.

Starting in Milan, my path would go to Venice with stops along the way. I love to see the places most tourists pass by. But the tourist-y stuff isn’t always bad. After Venice, we’d head for Bologna on our way to Florence. (By this time, it’s “we,” not “I,” because I’ve met the Italian man of my dreams, and we’re running away together.)

While in Florence, we’d visit every beautiful place in the vicinity because this is where we would eventually buy a home. Of course, as our road trip progressed, we might change our minds and buy a home elsewhere (or in addition to).

We would go to Rome from there. Maybe we’d stop and walk around and get lost like I did in college. (What a great place to get lost.) But soon, we’d be back in our charming Italian car heading for Castellammare di Stabia, where my dad grew up. Here’s where our home-buying plans might change. But no need to concern ourselves with that now.

No pressure, no worries. Just a long leisurely drive farther south, maybe head to Sicily, or maybe not. Then back up on the other side of the country working our way back to Tuscany, where, as mentioned, we’d look for a home.

This looks charming. We’ll take it.

And that concludes my road trip. For now.

—

    
Alas, neither of these guys are Italian. Perhaps I can live with that. 

p.s. — I’m a bit late with this one. I had to dismantle Christmas in my house today. It’s kind of depressing, but so was looking at the tree knowing Christmas is over. Even though I kind of hate Christmas. I make no sense.

         
©2022 what sandra thinks

Apparently, the prompt (hate that word, too… don’t know why) for January 1 is as follows:

What advice would you give to your teenage self?

However, I had to look for the prompt because I never got the email I was supposed to get. Great start WP! Ugh.

The thing about this is that I’ve already written it. Back in March 2021, I participated in a 31 Questions challenge (one for each day of the month, obviously). One of the questions was: “If you could sit down with your 15-year old self, what would you tell him or her?” So this is pretty much the same thing.

Here is the letter I wrote to myself back in March.

Dear 15-year-old Sandra,

I know some of these words may be harsh, but, trust me, you need them.

You are so much more than you think. Give yourself some credit. And give yourself some peace. Do whatever it takes to relax and find some peace. Figure that out now because it’ll be a million times harder when you’re older.

Got it? Good.

Now…

Stop fucking up!

Stop making decisions based solely on emotions. Some emotion is fine. Good, even. But only emotion is bad. Be a little less impulsive. Think things through before you speak… before you act. You’re smart… so smart. Use that. 

Turn your focus away from boys and popularity. If anyone doesn’t like you for you, forget them. Do you want them to like you for being someone else? I’ll tell you the answer—No, you don’t. You know why? First, because that means they don’t like you. And second, you’ll spend so much time trying to be something you’re not that you’ll lose yourself. I know what you’re thinking right now and you’re wrong… you do not want to lose yourself. You have friends. People love you. And you didn’t have to do anything to win them over but be yourself. 

I know you feel like you’re the only girl without a boy, but you’re not. And boys aren’t everything. I know right now it seems like they are but they’re not. In fact, forget about boys—at least for now. Work on yourself. Figure out what is truly important to you [not a boy!] and go for it… work for it. Don’t work toward what you think others want you to do or be. Follow your heart, but use your head.

You don’t need anyone. You are strong. You are brave. Once you accept that and accept yourself, boys will come. Maybe not right now and maybe not even for a few years, but you’ll still be better for it. And if they don’t, fuck ‘em. Or find some to fuck and maybe you’ll eventually find love. [I’m joking. Fifteen is too young. Give it some time.] Be patient.

Maybe just wait for a man. And do not, under any circumstances, accept anything less than true love. And great abs. Don’t settle. Don’t let anyone convince you that fairy tales aren’t real. Or that you are not worthy. I’m not talking about Cinderella here, but you deserve the best. You deserve to find ‘the one‘ so don’t give up. Honestly, you’ll be happier searching forever than you will be with the wrong man. 

But… Don’t build your life around someone else. Build it for you. If you want to make someone proud, make yourself proud. If you do that, everyone around you will be proud of you, too. 

It’s okay not to have it all figured out right now. Give yourself a break. Don’t pressure yourself so much. You don’t need to measure up to your sister. You don’t need to measure up to anyone. Stop comparing. You are your own person. Be yourself. Because you’re pretty amazing.

I know it’s hard. Really hard. But I promise you it will be worth it. I want so badly for you to avoid making the mistakes I made along the way. Oh, you’ll still make some—everyone does. You need them to learn. But I hope you take to heart what I’ve said. If you do, I know you’ll be in a better place when you’re my age.

You are the most important person in your life. Be kind to yourself. You owe it to yourself—and to everyone else in your life—to be true to yourself. If they love you for being someone else, that’s not love. It’s not selfish to put yourself first sometimes. In fact, it’s essential.

love,
Older, questionably wiser Sandra

p.s. — Don’t be ashamed to ask for help. From anyone, for any reason. I bet you have someone in mind right now who you know you could reach out to for help… someone who wouldn’t be afraid to tell you when you’re doing something stupid. Don’t get mad at her for it. Listen to her. Sometimes we’re blind. Let someone help you see.

p.p.s. — Definitely go to every one of those concerts you want to go to. You’ll have the time of your life. 

p.p.p.s. — Never underestimate the benefits of doing something for someone else. Be kind always.

p.p.p.p.s. — Embrace your love for writing. Don’t hide it—it’s better than you think.

p.p.p.p.p.s. — You’re beautiful and intelligent and you have a fabulous sense of humor.

p.p.p.p.p.p.s. — If you want to sing, do it.

p.p.p.p.p.p.p.s. — Get the Jeep.

I just read that three times. I think it’s perfect, even nearly ten months later. In fact, I really like it—what is says and how it’s written. My goal is to take this letter to heart, even though I’m not a teenager anymore. Of course some things I cannot do over, but maybe some things can be changed. I just need the will and determination to do it.

Oh—maybe I’d add one thing: Keep that Christmas magic you had when you were a child. Hating Christmas is exhausting.

—

    
I thought about retiring these two hot-as-fuck men in the new year, but then I realized that was a terrible idea. I felt really bad about it—as if the actual men pictured here would be hurt. Maybe I should tell my teenage self not to lose touch with reality as that seems to be what has happened to me. 

p.s. — This post was kind of a cheat since I’d already written it. But I don’t feel bad about it. I’m trying not to feel bad about anything unless it’s actually warranted. That’ll be a big change since I feel bad about pretty much everything.

p.p.s. — So far, 2022 is going pretty well. I’m in a room alone in total silence. I should probably be meditating or something. (Of course, now I’ve jinxed 2022 and it’s only day one. Fuck.)

         
©2022 what sandra thinks

This should go well. (Sarcasm.)

First, I have to tell you something even if it upsets someone. “Bloganuary” is the stupidest name I’ve ever heard. Well, maybe not ever, but it’s really bad. Even “Bloguary” would have sounded better. I think it’s because they fucked with the syllables and made it weird.

Second, I signed up for this (despite the stupid name—yes, I actually considered *not* signing up just because of the name). Here’s the description, in case you haven’t already seen it.

Each and every day during the month of January, we’ll post a prompt to our community site, as well as sending it out via email. The prompts will either be a question or a directive, helping to serve as inspiration for your blog content that day. Once you’re ready to publish your blog post, make sure to add a bloganuary tag. Our team will be looking for participant posts to highlight and share across the Reader, our social media channels, and the community site.

Third, I will write whatever the fuck I want. And I will not tone down my colorful choice of words. It’s one of the only ways my black wardrobe and I are colorful. I don’t even know if my posts will be truth, fiction, poetry, or something else I haven’t thought of yet. Aren’t you excited? You must be on the edge of your seat.

Fourth, I have no idea if I will be able to do this. If I had the prompts in advance, it might be easier, but that would defeat the purpose of encouraging me to write every day. I will try, though, because I want to write more. With the shitstorm that is my life, I haven’t been writing as much as I used to, and I need an escape. Or at least a distraction.

Help me, WordPress. Help me run away, if only through my keyboard.

Stay tuned.

• • • • •

    
I would love them even if they had stupid names.

p.s. — I guess if I get stuck, I can skip a day. No one will care. Except me. I’ll beat myself up over it. Because it’s what I do.

p.p.s. — And may 2022 be the opposite of 2021. That would be fucking great. Thanks, whoever.

         
©2021 what sandra thinks