what sandra thinks

are we there yet?

Yes, we are there! We made it to the end of February.

Thank you for reading my month of randomness. And thank you to those of you who participated in my “challenge“. When I made this list, I did it for me—to keep myself writing. I didn’t think anyone else would join me. So thank you. I’m touched.

(Not actually my hand. Or my pen. Or my coffee.)

I don’t know what’s going to happen in March. I have been working on my April A to Z Challenge posts. I have to get ahead on that since my theme involves a bit of thought and writing. But, obviously, none of that will be posted until April.

I’m going to try to post at least a couple of times a week in March. Maybe it’ll be more. I guess it depends how things go. If I’m doing poorly, it might be more so I can talk it out. Or it might be less if I shut down. If I’m doing well, it would be a miracle, so I have no idea what that will mean.

Anyway.

Thank you again. I promise you’ll hear from me soon. (Or is that a threat?)

(click image to view larger)

Maybe I’ll spend March with him. (I wish.) 

p.s. — You know, when I was a kid, I never asked “are we there yet?” I liked the ride. Getting there is half the fun, after all. Maybe I should embrace that since I have no idea where I’m going.

©2022 what sandra thinks

come back.

Things I wish would come back:

Non-smart phones. (Stupid phones?)

Morton frozen donuts.

My college boyfriend.

My high school hangout.

John Lennon, Ian Curtis, David Bowie, Anthony Bourdain, Chester Bennington, and, oh, what the hell—Luke Perry.

A pleasant lack of reality tv.

My youth.

(Not actually my childhood. And maybe by “youth” I mean 25, not 5.)

(click image to view larger)

I wish he would come back to me. Not that I ever had him…

p.s. — I intended to have a better, longer list of things for this post, but I am exhausted and my brain is fighting me. I can’t focus. 

©2022 what sandra thinks

disillusioned.

I am disillusioned with life. Nothing has gone the way I thought it would or the way I wanted.

I thought I would fall madly in love.
I wasn’t sure I would have children or if I wanted them.
I thought I would live in a small peaceful town.
I thought I would have a career I liked and was good at.
I wanted to have self-confidence.
I wanted to learn to love myself.
I thought I would be happy.

The reality:
I am not in love.
I have children, but I am a crappy mom.
I don’t live in a small enough or peaceful enough town.
I don’t have a job.
I have no self-confidence.
I hate myself.
I am not happy.

(Not actually me hiding from my life.)

If I were stronger, maybe I could fix some of this. But with the last two—self-hatred and no self-confidence—I fail at every attempt to make things better. I think I haven’t found my “thing” yet.

I need something to believe in. Back in January, I wrote about my inspiration, which is my daughter. She found something to believe in when she needed it. She found what worked for her. Honestly, she’s had a bit of a setback recently, but I still think she’s stronger than I’ve ever been.

How does one go about finding something to believe in? I have no faith (religious or otherwise). I was raised non-practicing Catholic, but I disagree with so much of Catholocism that it isn’t for me. Sometimes, I question the existence of God.

That probably stems more from my dissatisfaction with life and my feeling that someone’s out to get me. Like: “God’s got a sick sense of humor and when I die I expect to find Him laughing” (Blasphemous Rumors – Depeche Mode). Everything goes wrong in my life. If God exists, he hates me. Therein lies my problem with God/church/religion.

[Plus, how can I be expected to believe in a god I was raised to believe in when, if I were born in a different part of the world, I’d have been raised to believe in an entirely different god or belief system? How is any one belief more valid than any other? Wars are fought over this. I don’t understand it. Who’s to say which belief system is “right”? Belief shouldn’t come from where you happened to be born, should it? That seems wrong to me.

If everyone was exposed to every belief system from the start, would everyone from one place choose to accept the same one? I seriously doubt it. If I was only ever exposed to vanilla ice cream, it would be the best and I’d love it. But once I’d been exposed to chocolate and coffee and pistachio, I’d choose the one I liked best, not the first one I ever heard of.]

I like the way Greek mythology uses stories and gods to explain everything—weather, seasons, sunrise and sunset, love, fire, hell, war, mischief, stars. But do I believe in it? I suppose not. Even if it is pretty cool.

(Not actually Ariel’s father, but Poseidon.)

Hm. How about astrology? I don’t think I believe in that. The healing powers of crystals? I don’t think I believe in that either.

What can I believe in to give me some sort of faith? Something to hold onto so I have hope? Something to give my life meaning? And maybe even give me a purpose?

When I asked google how to find something to believe in, the most popular answer was something along the lines of, “You don’t have to find something to believe in. When you are ready, it will find you.”

Right. So I do nothing and wait for some sort of magical belief to fall into my lap, thus giving me joy and hope? That seems far-fetched. And I’m not getting any younger. I don’t have time to wait. I’m falling apart.

(Not actually me waiting.)

Other things google told me to believe in:

Yourself
The goodness of others
The power of kindness
Your inner strength
Courage
Hope

I’m trying to find something to believe in that will give me courage and hope and inner strength and self-love. Those are the results I’m trying to achieve by believing in something bigger. Why does google not understand me? It’s so frustrating.

In trying to find something, I actually did a lot of reading about astrology and crystals. I just couldn’t wrap my head around either of those because I’m far too logical and analytical. I think I’m an evidentialist. I will only believe in something if I have evidence to support that belief. This is why I don’t have faith.

Or, oh damn! I might be an existential nihilist: Life has no inherent purpose, goal, or intrinsic value. It’s the belief that life is utterly pointless. That’s not going to be helpful.

This post took a philosophical turn. And I may or may not have alienated anyone who has strong religious beliefs. I’m not belittling or criticizing or downplaying anyone’s beliefs. This is just my [fucked up] brain.

Maybe I should try believing in, like, Thor or something. But that’s just Norse mythology instead of Greek. Argh. This is not helping.

(click image to view larger)

I believe in you, super hot guy.

p.s. — I believe in my sister. She sent me $100 today for no reason. With a card that said, “And so ends another week without me becoming unexpectedly, exceedingly rich.”

©2022 what sandra thinks

six-pack.

Well. I don’t drink beer.

What ever should I do with this one? *innocent look*

Ahem.

I guess I will just share some fine examples of six-packs. My kind of six-packs.

(Exhibit A. Australian six-pack.)

(Exhibit B. Australian six-pack, Hawaii edition.)

(Exhibit C. Shower six-pack.)

(Exhibit D. Beach six-pack.)

(Exhibit E. Shades & Beard six-pack.)

I’m gonna need a minute. Or several.

(click image to view larger)

I have no doubt that he’s hiding a phenomenal six-pack under that tee shirt.

p.s. — To give six-pack credit where six-pack credit is due: (A) Chris Hemsworth, (B) Alex O’Loughlin, (C) Tommy Dunn, (D) Jason Morgan, (E) Nick Bateman, and (Hot guy at the end of every post) Simone Bredariol.

©2022 what sandra thinks

titles.

title one.
I’ve been waiting for this one because I decided that this would be the day to change my blog design (a little). You know, because the title graphic is changing.

I’ve kept the same theme because it’s no longer available so if I change it, I can’t get it back. If I ever do change that, I’ll have to be really sure about it. (I know I’ve mentioned this before.)

(title two. Totally unrelated—I love coming up with titles for my poetry and fiction. And I think I’m good at it.)

title three.
Titles have been a problem for me professionally.

I’m unemployed now, but my last three jobs didn’t have clear titles. They started out with titles, sort of, but I work too fast and too efficiently. I took on more responsibility. My title morphed into something totally made up. None of this would matter except for one thing—it is now impossible for me to find a job. What the hell do I search for? I did so many things that don’t even necessarily go together.

I reconciled payments for operations. I helped with graphics for the marketing team. I researched discrepancies for accounting. I did payroll when they needed backup (I hate doing payroll). I tested new software modifications for IT. I managed email advertising at a tech company, I created reports for advertising, accounts receivable, and any other group that needed reports (because I was good at that and word got out). Hell, I even acted as tech support when anyone who knew me had an Excel question.

And my college degree is a BA in Art.

Who the hell am I? What is my title?

This is what happens when you’ve never known what you wanted to do with your life.

And now I’ve reached a dead end.

(click image to view larger)

I would take a job being his (very) personal assistant. *wink*

p.s. — At this point, I probably shouldn’t even say I’m “unemployed” since it’s been so long and I only look for jobs occasionally. I should say I’m a “stay at home mom”. I feel like people look down on that title, though. And it certainly doesn’t look good on a resumé. At least to most employers. All they see is a gap in “real work”.

©2022 what sandra thinks

argue.

Whenever I argue with anyone, I later regret it—even if I know I was right. (I’m always right.) (Just kidding.) (No, I’m not.)

Frustration. Guilt. Sadness. Those are the things I feel after an argument. And an argument never seems to resolve the issue anyway.

(I’m gonna have to side with Susie on this one. Sorry, Calvin.)

Maybe I should never argue again and start using the phrase, “agree to disagree” all the time instead.

If only I could remember that in the heat of the moment.

(click image to view larger)

No argument here.

p.s. — Had another argument with my daughter yesterday. All it did was make me feel like crap. She says she’s right. I say I’m right. No one budges. But… she blamed me for the whole thing. Again. Ugh. Agree to disagree.

©2022 what sandra thinks

purpose.

Purpose is a difficult topic for me. Mostly because I don’t have one.

For the last few years, I’ve struggled to find my purpose. I believe my lack of purpose is the cause of so much of what is wrong in my life. Without a purpose, how do I know what steps to take? Without a destination, how do I know where to begin? How do I know which path to choose? If I just take a leap, I’m liable to fall off a cliff.

If you get in the car but don’t know where you’re headed, you just drive around aimlessly. That’s pretty much how I live my life. Aimlessly. Directionless. Lost. Because I have no idea what my goals are or what my purpose is. I don’t know where I’m going—or even where I’m trying to go.

(No idea if this is the right path. I’m guessing no.)

I could say my goal is to be happy. But that’s not a purpose. Wouldn’t serving my ultimate purpose make me happy? I think it should. If I’m here in this life for a reason, that reason would be my purpose, right? But I have no fucking clue what it is. I hope it’s not to be a mom because I’m fucking that up. Badly. And God knows I’m not happy.

I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what I love. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know why I’m here.

I guess that’s why I feel like I shouldn’t be here. I’m a waste. People die every day—good people, happy people, people with so much to give and so many reasons to live. Why am I here but they’re not? I often think of my cousin, one year younger than me, who died a few years ago (from a brain tumor). He was happy. He had great friends, a lovely home, a job he enjoyed. He loved life. And he’s gone. Why am I here but he’s not? His life was worth far more than mine. It doesn’t make sense. Hell, a lot of the time, I feel like being here is a punishment for me, but it would be a gift to him.

Someone once asked me what my values are. I couldn’t answer him. He said that knowing my values would give me purpose and help me set goals. I believe this is likely true. I’ve since tried to figure out what my values are, but I have failed.

At this point in my life, after years and years of unhappiness, depression, anxiety, sadness, regret, and disappointment, I’m just tired. Exhausted. I can’t figure out where to find the energy or the will to take any significant action. I think I’ve given up, and that only feeds my hopelessness. It takes away my will to live.

(click image to view larger)

Can’t I just drift off to sleep in his arms? Like, forever? I need a new reality.

p.s. — This post brought me to tears. Just… exhaustion. Emotional. Physical. I hate my life and I’m scared. 

©2022 what sandra thinks