Getting Lost (and Found) in Sudoku

[Susan1313]

If someone had told me a few years ago that I'd one day spend my evenings staring at a 9x9 grid of numbers, I would've laughed. sudoku? Really? I used to think it was something only math geniuses or bored commuters did. But fast-forward to now — I can't go a day without solving at least one puzzle. Funny how things change.

My Accidental Entry into the World of Sudoku

It all started one slow afternoon when my Wi-Fi went out. No YouTube, no games, no distractions. I found an old puzzle book lying around and thought, Why not? It looked simple enough — just fill the boxes so every row, column, and square had the numbers 1 to 9. Easy, right?

Wrong.

That first Sudoku puzzle completely humbled me. I filled in a few numbers, felt proud for five minutes, and then realized I'd created an impossible situation — two eights in the same row. Total disaster. I erased, rechecked, erased again, and finally gave up. But weirdly, I couldn't stop thinking about it.

The Moment It Clicked

The second time I tried, something shifted. I stopped guessing and started thinking. Instead of focusing on what I didn't know, I looked for what I did know — patterns, gaps, possibilities. Slowly, the puzzle started to open up.

When I finally placed the last number and everything fit perfectly, I actually fist-pumped the air. No rewards, no flashy graphics, no applause — just the quiet satisfaction of outsmarting a little grid of numbers.

That was it. I was hooked.

The Strange Peace of Playing Sudoku

Here's the thing about Sudoku — it's both calm and intense. It demands focus, but not in a stressful way. You get so deep into it that time sort of melts away. For me, it's become this weird form of meditation.

Some people do yoga. Some listen to ASMR. I play Sudoku.

There's something comforting about the logic of it. The world can be messy, unpredictable, full of noise — but Sudoku always follows its rules. It never lies. The answers are there; you just have to find them.

When Sudoku Becomes Too Real

Of course, not every session goes smoothly. There are times I stare at the grid so long my brain turns to mush. Once, I spent nearly thirty minutes trying to place one missing "4" in a box. I tried every trick I knew, but the puzzle refused to cooperate.

I walked away frustrated — only to realize, five minutes later, that the answer had been staring me in the face the whole time. Typical Sudoku move.

Sometimes I swear the game is trolling me.

My Sudoku Rituals (and Mistakes)

Over time, I've developed some quirky habits while playing:

I always start with number 1. No idea why — it just feels like a lucky charm.

I use a pencil when I play on paper. Pen is for overconfident people.

I hum quietly while solving — apparently, it helps me focus (or annoys people around me).

My biggest mistake? Playing Sudoku before bed. Once I start, I can't stop. What's supposed to be a "quick puzzle" turns into a two-hour mental marathon. But honestly? It's worth every minute.

The Joy of a Perfect Solve

Finishing a Sudoku puzzle feels like tying up a loose thread in your mind. You start with total chaos — empty boxes and uncertainty — and end with perfect order. There's something deeply satisfying about that transformation.

Sometimes I take a photo of the completed grid like a proud parent. (Don't judge me — if you've solved a "Hard" puzzle without using hints, you understand.)

Comparing Sudoku to Other Games

As someone who's played everything from Crazy Cattle 3D to Flappy Bird, I can confidently say Sudoku sits in its own category. It's not flashy or fast, but it's endlessly replayable. You don't compete against anyone but yourself — your patience, your logic, your focus.

While other games test your reflexes, Sudoku tests your discipline. And unlike Flappy Bird, it doesn't punish you with loud noises when you mess up — just quiet judgment from the grid.