I think of you
but pain creeps in
or maybe it’s fear
that’s how it begins
I escape to fresh air
try to walk off emotions
still I can’t shake them
they leave me broken
again I find something
anything to take over
but nothing can lift
the weight from my shoulders
‘think of something else’
oh, I really do try
but nothing can stop
the tears that I cry
©2017 what sandra thinks
I had an uneventful weekend… which is both good and bad. Nothing especially bad happened… so that’s good. But nothing really happened at all… so that’s bad.
I feel like I should be doing more stuff with my kids over the weekends, but it’s really hard coming up with things to do that don’t cost anything… and that I’m not too messed up to do (like because of my stupid foot pain that acts up sometimes, for example). Maybe they’re getting too old to hang out with Mom anyway. I know my son is. And… maybe I’m lazy… but that’s probably my moodiness talking… and taking over at times… and I wish it would leave me the hell alone.
I’ve been wondering if I should limit my emotional disaster posts to this one… once a week. But I don’t know that I can make (or keep) that promise. When something happens and I need a friend (or 20), I write… and I post here. Because I have no real-life friends… I have no support. God, that’s even more pathetic in writing than it is in reality. Okay, maybe not more pathetic. But at least as pathetic.
I was about to say, ‘I wonder why I can’t make friends’, but I know why. I’m not around people enough because it freaks me out. (And because I’m unemployed.) But even if I was around people more (like when I was working… or anywhere else), I don’t know how to make small talk. I never know what to say. I end up silent or making jokes, often at my own expense, because that’s all I’ve got. And none of that is winning me any friends.
And really, where would I even go? People don’t talk to strangers at coffee shops or the library or any other places I might go. People are in their own worlds… doing their own thing. Most people already have friends… why would they want me? I’m mostly a nuisance with all my emotional-disaster-ness. (Which is also why I’m often afraid to email those of you who’ve said you’re there for me. I believe you and I appreciate you so much… but I don’t want to drive you away…)
One might think I have a good, if not best, friend in my husband or one of my sisters.
I am close to the two sisters who speak to me. (Someday, maybe I’ll post about the third.) But despite being close with those sisters, they really don’t get me. They don’t understand the anxiety and depression I live with. They think ‘snap out of it’… ‘cheer up’… ‘think positively’… or other such things. Don’t people know that if I could do those things, I obviously would? Those things are exactly what I’m incapable of doing (along with ‘love yourself’). Fuck… I wish I could just do those things!
And my husband. Well, he’s useless with this stuff. I know I say some shit about him. And it’s all true. But he’s not a bad guy. He’s not mean or anything like that. He’s just not… there for me, I guess. He used to be. Maybe he got sick of me. But it’s not like I ever hid who I was. I’ve always been a disaster… from the moment we met. He loved me anyway. But now… I really can’t talk to him when I’m in crisis… when I need someone. If I try, I usually come out of it feeling worse. Mostly because he says pretty much nothing… and it doesn’t even feel like he’s listening. I might as well talk to a brick.
So. I don’t know where I was going with any of this. I guess this is what came out when I thought about my mood. And this week… I can actually describe my mood in one word…
Final assessment: lonely
©2017 what sandra thinks
This edition of ‘song of the day‘ is also a post for ‘Song Lyric Sunday‘. The challenge is to post a song that fits the weekly theme. Or even a song that doesn’t fit… just to share some lyrics and music.
This week’s theme is fortune telling/predicting the future. This song might be a little bit of a stretch… but I love it so you get it anyway…
Looking for love was my undoing. Kind of. People used to say that you’ll never find it if you’re looking… that it would just show up when you’re not expecting it. I knew I was screwed… because I was always looking for it. And then people started throwing reality at me. Or what they thought was reality: The fairy tale doesn’t exist — not even close.
So… not only was I always looking, but apparently, I was looking for something that didn’t exist. Maybe that’s why I gave up. Good enough was good enough. Or so I thought. You know me… I assumed I didn’t deserve anything more.
Maybe I actually belong with that kid who used to sit with me on the school bus. Maybe it was that boy who teased me in high school. How could I know?
Anyway… that was depressing. Moving on…
This song isn’t only about the one who (maybe) got away. It’s about (impatiently) waiting for him (or her, depending on your preference).
Hurry up and get here… I’ll know it’s you when you show up. Hopefully. That’s predicting the future, right?
Love Song for No One / John Mayer
Staying home alone on a Friday
Flat on the floor looking back on old love
Or lack thereof
After all the crushes are faded
And all my wishful thinking was wrong
I’m jaded, I hate it
I’m tired of being alone
So hurry up and get here
So tired of being alone
So hurry up and get here (get here)
Searching all my days just to find you
I’m not sure who I’m looking for
I’ll know it when I see you
Until then, I’ll hide in my bedroom
Staying up all night just to write
A love song for no one
I’m tired of being alone
So hurry up and get here
So tired of being alone
So hurry up and get here
I could have met you in a sandbox
I could have passed you on the sidewalk
Could I have missed my chance
And watched you walk away
I’m tired of being alone
So hurry up and get here
So tired of being alone
So hurry up and get here
You’ll be so good
You’ll be so good for me
—
Written by John Mayer & Clay Cook
This is live… because John Mayer live is perfect. Better than the album version… always.
This is only the second time I’ve done this… Stream of Consciousness Saturday. No editing is allowed (painful for me… I usually proofread a post 20 times…) except for spelling errors…
This week, the prompt is ‘vol‘… a word with ‘vol‘ in it.
I think I’ve lost myself. No, scratch that. I’m not sure I ever found myself. I think I’ve spent my whole life trying to figure out who I am supposed to be… and I’ve spent none of my life just being. Just being me. Because I don’t know how to be me.
I don’t know who I am.
I know I talk about myself too much around here. You’ve got a deeper insight into my brain than anyone. (I’m sorry.) Is that sad? Maybe… maybe not. But I think we can all agree that it’s easier to spill ones guts to a screen than to someone’s face. I think there are very few people (like… one or two, tops) in this world with whom I’d feel comfortable enough to share what I share here.
But… despite all of my personal sharing, I don’t think the world revolves around me. How can it? I don’t even know who I am.
And I can’t believe I never realized this before. It’s so obvious!
Who the hell am I? Sandra. Yep. But who the hell is she? I don’t know.
When I was a kid, was that me? Maybe. Or maybe I was just doing what everyone else did… because that’s what I was supposed to do.
As I got older, I wanted to be one of the cool kids. Or at the very least, I wanted the other kids to like me. So I tried to be them. What I never saw, though, was that being cool didn’t mean becoming them. It meant being me… because I was already cool. Except I didn’t think so… because I didn’t know who I was.
Even simple insignificant things may or may not have really been ‘me‘…
Did I ever really love that song? Want those clothes? Think those thoughts? Or was I still trying to be someone else… someone they (he?) wanted me to be? [Let’s face it… from about age 13, it was always about a ‘he’… not a ‘them’.] I made the choices I thought would make them (him?) love me. I never thought they (he?) would want me if I broke away… if I didn’t do the cool thing… if I was myself. But how could I be myself? I didn’t know who I was.
I can’t help wondering what I would have done… how things would be now… if I truly thought about what I wanted… what was truly best for me… and what would make me me. I wonder how things would be if I wasn’t always trying to figure out what I’m supposed to be doing… thinking… being.
Maybe my world should revolve around me… maybe it always should have. But I think I have to know who I am first. How? I think whoever I am has been lost my whole life. I don’t know how to find me.
©2017 what sandra thinks
I needed you
to hear me
so I screamed
from my heart
but you were lost
inside yourself
and in your world
I don’t exist
louder this time
aching for you
to hold me
and give me hope
but you never saw
beyond yourself
so in my world
you don’t exist
©2017 what sandra thinks
(image source: by Lace http://drawspeedart.blogspot.fr/)
I’m sad about the absence of Fiction Friday. But… even if I was deep into another story right now, I’m not sure I would post it. I’ve already mentioned this… I have that nagging thought in my head. The one that keeps telling me that if I ever pursue publishing, I should have a story (or stories) that I haven’t already shared. BUT at the same time, I have that screaming thought in my head that publishing is too much for me anyway… and the chances I’ll actually ever pursue it are slim at best.
The drive and motivation escape me… for publishing and for everything else, too. I hate that about me. I hate it so much.
So… if/when I do have another story, maybe I will post it… maybe Fiction Friday will return. But right now, I’m still conflicted. And I still have nothing to post anyway. I found some notes I wrote… ideas, bits and pieces. But I’m just not inspired right now. Not for that.
I was beginning to feel like my designing inspiration was running away, too. But maybe it’s not. Last night I made this…
Is it cute or is it goofy? I really don’t know how to judge myself or anything I do. I just assume the worst… which I know is really stupid.
And then I experimented with some other things… things I never thought I’d design…
I have no idea who my target audience is with this stuff. Nor do I know how to market myself. (Also a problem with publishing…) But the stuff is there. Maybe people will find it. And like it. And at least I’ve been inspired to create something. I still kind of think I’m a fraud… maybe it’s because I’m not a professional artist or writer… I’m not a professional anything.
Except… maybe… a professional disaster.
©2017 what sandra thinks
what sandra makes
… and sooner or later, everyone will find out. Sooner, I guess, since I’m telling you…
It’s happening again. I’ve written three posts since last night and I’ve trashed them all. They’re crap.
Aaaand… I just wrote a paragraph here in this post and deleted it.
WTF?
I can’t figure out what I want to say. Or how to say it. Or if I have anything to say at all.
It used to be that I had so much to say… whether it was fiction, poetry, an idea for a blog post… I’d be grabbing my laptop, notebook, phone, post-it note… whatever I could get my hands on to write at every spare moment. I still grab whatever’s around when I have a thought… but those thoughts… they’re disappearing. I feel so… uninspired.
It’s not just writing. It’s my art/design, too… I had ideas bouncing all over the place just days ago… and now… I have nothing. Well, nothing good.
It feels like any ‘success‘ I’ve found with art or writing was a fluke. It feels like I’ve been pretending to be a writer… an artist. But the truth is coming out… the jig is up.
It feels like lies. All lies. And by the way… this is why I both want and fear finding a dream job as a writer or an artist. Because my inspiration is fickle. What happens when I have to do a job… but I’ve got no ideas? What then? Shouldn’t a writer be able to write? Shouldn’t an artist be able to create?
Okay, I can do those things, technically… but lately, with minimal inspiration, not well.
I guess I’m having a ‘block‘. But that just feels like an excuse… a label for my inadequacy. It doesn’t make me feel better. And of course it changes nothing.
“It happens to everyone…” I don’t want to hear that any more than a middle-aged guy with a sexual dysfunction wants to hear it.
It makes me feel like a fraud. And someone’s going to find me out. Oh wait… everyone is going to find me out… because I just told you everything…
• • •
[Just watch… tomorrow I’ll find inspiration and then I’ll look like a nutball for posting this. But if I can have my inspiration back, I can live with that.]
©2017 what sandra thinks
you knew
I needed you
before I ever
asked you
for anything
and I will
always remember
the way
you made me feel
when you fixed me
when you gave me
the power
to finally say
I am not broken
anymore
©2017 what sandra thinks
Liam Sullivan's Ideas and Reflections
Wordpress simulcast of the official A to Z Challenge blog
“Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.” — Maya Angelou
Photos, art, and a little bit of LIT.
A Look on the Brighter Side of Life
A writer with no name 👽
what sandra thinks 