Author: Danita W.

A few short months ago it was two very old men running for President, both suffering from some cognitive decline. The one with integrity and good character drops out and the other with zero integrity stays in the race and sells bibles and shoes on the side. A  younger woman enters the race, but she is getting “ blacker”  by the minute and is a socialist, communist, fascist, and enemy of the state and stupid— this according to the “trustworthy”, demented old man still in the race. Just an ordinary election year in the country we all love. I am very afraid that we are sleep walking into the loss of our democracy and we are just watching it happen. Wake up!!

When I was 6, my family moved from a small farm in Iowa to Chicago. I went from cows mooing and green fields to honking cars and lots of concrete. Talk about culture shock! I asked my Mom why that man’s skin was dark, and if he was dirty and needed to take a bath. My cousin Brad, still living in Iowa at the time, wanted to know why blacks always smelled bad? When I asked him how many he had smelled, he said none, but his uncle had. I was young so I think I adapted quickly, my parents had a harder time of it. Why am I sharing this story? To tell you about myself, but..you know there is always a but. Everything I have just told you is a lie! I just made it up. It was so easy too. How do we feel about being deceived? It pisses me off! What if we trust the people who are lying to us? Betrayal is not something anyone looks forward to.

Shakespeare said “ What a tangled web we weave when we first practice to deceive.” What did he mean? Don’t waste your time trying to answer this, it’s a trick question because Shakespeare did not say this. It is a quote from a Walter Scott poem. Already the web of deceit is being woven. Lies are compounded and people get more confused. It’s much easier to be consistent when you only need to remember one version of a story, the truth

Fact-checking is the process of verifying the factual accuracy of questioned reporting and statements. What if I had a fact checker following me around? It is a fierce battle to fact-check when there are so many lies being put forth as the truth. Social media, and Trump and his minions, vomit lies by the  millisecond. What if I start to question the conspiracies my tribe subscribes to? I could end up ostracized and alone.   Propaganda is spreading lies in order to help a cause, a political leader or a government. Social media and Trump and his minions vomit lies every millisecond. Propaganda magnifies doubt, and doubt magnifies fear. Fear can promote aggression, disengagement and paralysis. I know I cycle thru these emotions every day.

People lie for a multitude of reasons. It may be to get other people to like them, to control a situation or because they desperately want something  to be true.The question is not why do people lie, it is “Why do people tell the truth?” Truth or consequences, but what if there are no consequences for lying?. I think, no one else will ever know.”,but I  will know. I  “embellish” or “ stretch the truth” or leave out parts of stories, and kid myself  that I am not  lying.If  we build our lives on lies,  the truth can be an earthquake of destruction. I have learned the truth about some family myths and I’m not sure if this was a net positive.

The lies I tell to myself about myself are lies just the same.The psychological costs of lying can be lower self esteem, more stress from “managing” the lie, and guilt and shame. My intention is to tell the truth and do the right thing, but to be “honest” I fail a good share of  the time.

“The fact that a great many people believe something is no guarantee of its truth.” —W. Somerset Maugham, writer. AND Margaret Taylor Greene is lying when she says the federal government controls the weather. I know it’s a lie because she has not been struck by lightning.

I am queen of metaphors and similes. I owe it all to Freshman English Composition. My liberal use of comparisons and/or analogies help me to tell my stories and understand myself much better. Today, I am the little wind up toy that is wound tight and released. I think they are still available.  The song,“The Marvelous Toy” by Peter, Paul and Mary tells us about them.

 It went “Zip” when it moved

And “Bop” when it stopped

And “Whirrr” when it stood still

I never knew just what it was and I guess I never will

I remember …

I picked it up and wound it and set it down. I can see it now making its way across the table or floor “zipping”as it went. It would change direction if it hit an object in its path, or get stuck and “whirr” in place until it wound down and was silent. Or like Humpty Dumpty it could take a great fall right off the table….

The who or what that winds me up has changed throughout my life, and certainly as I have aged. I was full of energy, positive or nervous energy, and often wound myself up. I was running away or running towards or stalled out with no energy to move at all. It was a game of “Red Rover” and Danita was sent right over. If I couldn’t break through into the  “popular” or “successful”  world, then I would just “bop”. The worst scenario was when I ignored “ Danger” signs and “zipped” when I should have “bopped”.  Sometimes, no matter how many hints I got to change direction I just kept right  on going. It is wonderful, but rare when the path ahead is clear and free of obstacles. But I can still make my own obstacles or head for the cliff and take a great fall to end it all. 

Today I’m an educated “Marvelous Toy”!  A toy that has “Been there, done that” and takes the time to ask ” How important is it?”. I’m not tossed around by so many outside forces. On the days I don’t have much “ zip” I appreciate and find comfort in the “ whirr” in being still. I take good care of my toy. I put it in a safe place and never wind it too tight, and no flipping or jumping anymore. I hope for lots more “zip”.

Wind in your face

Wind at your back

Makes no difference 

Just keep going.

You were expecting easy

What you got is hard.

There isn’t a soft landing

The level of difficulty is high

Just keep going. 

You remember your history

How it went 100 times before

But there were lessons learned 

Just keep going.

Cheat the future

Stack the deck

Set it up so you win.

Roadblocks and detours

The flag man says “stop”.

You wait your turn

But you don’t quit

You just keep going.

When the devil of “I can’t”

Breathes down your neck

Tell him to go to hell.

Just for today, keep going.

Keep going….

Kamala:  ( comma la)  ( , la) Should I put a comma here? Yes!   Shakespeare asked “What’s in a name?”. Donald Trump thinks he has an answer with one of his many creative stupid ways to show his disrespect for someone. Coining nicknames and mispronouncing the names of his opponents is one of his attempts to dominate, it’s a power move to give others a nasty nickname. He  actually weaponizes a person’s name against them.  Kamala Harris has told us many times how to pronounce her name. Trump has said “ People think I mispronounce it on purpose, but actually I’ve heard it said about seven different ways. There are a lot of ways.…I said, ‘don’t worry about it’. It doesn’t matter what I say. I couldn’t care less if I mispronounce it or not. I couldn’t care less.” That’s obvious! He’s not alone,  (R.)Nancy Mace has taken some heat for repeatedly mispronouncing Kamala. Her “adult” response, “I will say Kamala’s name any way that I want to!”  I am particularly offended by their name games, it strikes a nerve and just plain pisses me off.  

It turns out there’s a lot in a name. I’m at Starbucks and listening to names being called out to let people know their order is ready. I hear“ Danita” and it’s coffee time! When we introduce ourselves it’s the first piece of information we share. We Midwest folk joke, “Call me anything, but don’t call me late for supper.”, but we don’t really mean it’s ok to call me “anything”.  Making an effort to remember and correctly pronounce someone’s name helps them feel seen and valued. If I’ve told someone my name, and pronounced it for them a couple of times, and they still get it wrong they don’t really care! 

My friend, Missey, seldom uses her legal first name,“Mary”, unless it’s for official documents and business. She is not a “Mary”, she is a “ Missey”. I think people kind of grow into or out of their names. Lots of people are known by their first names only, or by a name they have chosen; i.e. Cher, Prince, Pink, Picasso. Some very popular songs are named after women; i.e. Billie Jean, Jolene, Roxanne , Betty Davis Eyes….  I’ve never met “ A Boy Named Sue”, but I know “ I’m Henry the Eighth. I Am”, “Hey Jude” and “ Bad, Bad Leroy Brown”. I’ve always been amused by the very colorful nicknames for Mafia members; i.e. Dapper Don, Ice Pick Willie, Scarface…. I think I’d want my Mafia name to be Big Toad. (There’s a story, but I’m not going there now.) We want our pets to come when they are called, and they don’t care if their name is “Scuttlebutt”. I have had nicknames for all my pets, and some I’m embarrassed to share, but my animals are never offended. 

What do we do about Trump’s  name calling and denigration of Kamala’s name?  Turn the other cheek or punch him? Guess which one I prefer?!  Or even better we could not vote for him. I’m sure Trump does not understand why the Vietnam War Memorial is so moving. It displays the names of all the soldiers who died in Vietnam. It’s pretty hard to dismiss all those soldiers, who Trump has referred to as “ suckers and losers”, when you see the thousands of names on the wall. The reading of the names is the very least we can do. I nominate Donald Trump to read aloud all of the names slowly and correctly while standing in front of the memorial. 

I’ve always loved the song “ I am…I said “by Neil Diamond. 

I am…I said

To no one there

And no one heard at all, not even the chair

“I am”… I cried

“I am”… said I

And I am lost, and I can’t even say why

“I am”… I said 

“I am”… I cried

“I am”… I said

So the next time someone asks you what your name is—say it proudly and give it it’s due. “ I am…I said”   I am DANITA.

Philosophy can be an exercise in “Oh the Thinks You Can Think”, but remember “Don’t let your mind wander, it’s too small to be out by itself.” I’m thinking of my philosophy more as guidelines for living which are useful and practical, and not just theoretical constructs.

I’ve had a lot of years to consider my philosophy of life, it’s not static, but I do  have  beliefs and philosophical tenets that I know to be true.  I am a member of a 12 step program so I embrace the Steps. I’m also a believer in Stoic principles which are some of the building blocks for the 12 Steps. Those greek Stoic philosophers nailed it! The word stoic has evolved to a rather unflattering meaning, but the ancient Greek Stoic philosophers were not unemotional, detached or lacking joy. I wish I could have spent an afternoon with Marcus Aurelius, I know I would have enjoyed myself.

So to keep it simple, I’ve boiled down my practical and aspirational  philosophy to 3 points:

3.Keep it Simple : If you are not disciplined and determined to keep it simple, we all know that weddings for immediate family “only”can end up with a guest list of 300 people. Considering a plan B can be a healthy  approach,  but if I have a plan Z I’ve gone way too far. I can’t plan for all scenarios. (See point 2)  I’d rather be living than planning and worrying. What are my priorities? I can clean up my household clutter and my social and emotional clutter. I don’t “have to” show up to every event I’m invited to. I am not bound  to friendships that may be toxic or unfulfilling. My goal is to live a low maintainence life style. I am determined to prioritize family and friends and keep it simple. I let things that don’t work for me fall away. 

2.Shit Happens : Life is generous in manifesting a host of things that hurt us and scare us. It can, and does, rain on our parade. People we love die and tornadoes wipe out entire towns. Resistance is doomed to fail, we really can’t make this shit up! Wishing and hoping  aren’t very helpful either. I’ve come to believe that acceptance is the answer, but at times it takes painful time to arrive at acceptance.  Only then can I decide if I can do anything to respond. Life is not out to get me, it just is. Painful. Joyful. Scary. Awesome…

3. The bedrock of Stoic philosophy and all 12 step programs is to change what I can, and accept what I cannot change. I know and feel this to be true. As the Serenity prayer says, we need to “have the wisdom to know the difference” and that is the journey of my lifetime.  When shit happens or joy happens,and we know it will, how do I respond instead of just react?It is silly and tragic to spend much of my life trying to change what I cannot change. It is not under my control to change other people , places or things. I cannot make someone love me, make it rain or live forever. Time spent on these impossible endeavors means I have less time to focus on the few things I can control: my thoughts and my behavior. I’m learning to ask myself the right questions about what I can and cannot control. Living this way scares me at times, but it is also freeing and keeps things simple when shit or joy happens. My time is too precious to resist life in all its tragedies and glories. 

I’m going to read this book :”Philosophy for Life and Other Dangerous Situations” by Jules Evans . The title makes me smile as well as these “gems”I found.

Roscoe and Molly don’t eat books. Thank God for that!

I resemble this.

Once upon a time a little girl was born in the kingdom of wishful thinking.  She was beautiful, with eyes that sparkled like blue diamonds and hair like ebony. Everyone thought that she would live happily ever after, especially when her prince came. But…after the honeymoon her prince began to tell her she couldn’t do anything “just right” . The porridge she made was awful and she needed to make the bed perfectly. He  became abusive to her, and poof her happily ever after became fear and bruises. I don’t want to hear this non-fairy tale. It could be a horrible coincidence, but I may still harbor a Goldilocks and Cinderella complex because I have an embarrassing number of pairs of shoes, and most of them are not “just right”.

Happy endings in fairy tales are foretold by standard phrases like “happily ever after” or “And they lived happily ever after”. Good is supposed triumph over evil, love is stronger than hate   We want happy endings or it just doesn’t feel right. Let’s go  back to simpler and better times where there was justice for all. If I do all the right things, I will insure that bad things will not happen to me. Bad things do happen to good people.  Who wants to believe Murphy Law, which says that “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.”?  There is no comfort in this proverb.

Where are all the damsels in distress? They are busy being rescued by their savior,  the prince.  I was part of the women’s lib movement in the 70’s,  so I threw away my bra and my belief that I needed a man, and embraced equality . Not so fast…my mouth was repeating the feminist manifesto, but my actions and feelings were not keeping up. I thought fairy tales and happy endings went up in the smoke from the joint I was smoking. I huffed and puffed and blew the house down, but what about second hand smoke? Was I still a damsel in distress? While professing to believe in the power of women, I think I was still following the trail of bread crumbs into the woods that led me to captivity and dependence. I was an ambivalent slow learner with generations of fairy tales to question and evaluate.

I’m over 70, but sometimes I still believe in fairy tales. Come to think of it, there are no heroines in fairy tales who are old Ike me. We usually get the roles of the wicked witch or the evil queen. “Mirror, mirror on the wall who is the fairest of them all?” Maybe the biggest fairy tale of all is that only the young can be beautiful and deserving

Maybe instead of rewriting our history and banning books that reflect reality, we could  start teaching our children that a ‘happily ever after” does not exist, and there is no goal or challenge that can be met that guarantees  everlasting happiness and success. I think the best choice is to experience and live happy moments in between life’s challenges. Expect problems and learn from them to become strong. So there is no magic wand, glass slipper or fairy dust that we can rely on to give us our fairy-tale ending. Writer Michael Ford has edited a book of erotic tales for men called “Happily Ever After”. The irony is not lost on me.

I have big feet. BIG. I was a size 9 when I needed to be sexy in my heels, a size 10 after pregnancy and standing on my feet 40 hours a week, and now I wear clown shoes, size 11.  I have to if I don’t want  my toes to  be black and blue.   My siblings called me “Tubby Toes”, hitting both my shoe size and my weight. In 1975, for about 2 seconds I weighed 127 pounds and was a size 8. My weight is pretty steady now, but varied a lot when I was younger. No matter what the scale said, I was “fat”. This disconnect between the reality of my body and how I see and feel about it. is called body dysmorphia :a mental illness characterized by obsessive focus on a perceived flaw in appearance. Think being anorexic and looking in the mirror and “seeing” yourself at 300 pounds. That tiny pimple on you chin is Mt. Vesuvius spewing hot lava. Ew! This is a common fear of teenagers who then can’t stop looking at it or think about popping it. Maybe teenage  angst never really goes away it just becomes adult and elder angst.

I’m an either/or person: I’m  beautiful, or I’m very ugly; I’m smart, or I’m  pretty dumb. Dysmorphia is an “exaggerated  perception” i.e. I’m worthless, I’m lazy, I’m unloveable, I’m a failure. Oh my! As I age, I’ve learned to soften some expectations, judgements and certainties. I’m not 100 % sure of anything!  Except…I hate Donald Trump 100%. I am 100% sure that he has no redeeming qualities. It seems I have no power to wrestle myself out of this pathological certainty, so I pray for help. Really. 

Beyond my Trump “ blindness”, I am willing and sometimes able to look at how I may suffer from dysmorphia.  I know my eyes “see”, so why am I stuck in front of funhouse mirrors? I can correct my vision, but how can I make sure that my brain “sees” correctly? Social scientists have theorized that we often see what we want to see, and most of us know this to be true. Our brains can trick us and deceive us, so maintaining objectivity is difficult. Thats where dysphoria comes in; dys·pho·ria: a state of feeling unwell or unhappy. If I am feeling unhappy I want validation for my mood. I’m unhappy because I’m ugly and stupid, and because I’m stupid and ugly I am feeling unhappy. Are you still with me? Kinda like the chicken or the egg question. 

When I was a young woman I was diagnosed with dysthymia: a milder, but long lasting form of depression which may have episodes of major depression.  Do I see what I want to see? Is what I think more important that what my eyes are seeing? How dysfunctional am I? What does it feel like to not be depressed?

 The Greek prefix “dys” means, “ bad, difficult and painful”. My conclusion: if a word begins with “dys” I don’t want it!

Here it is, it’s July already. I’m not planning to do Christmas in July, but this year I’ve decided I need to redo my 2024 New Year’s resolutions.  I just got back from our annual June trip to Iowa. It seems appropriate to consider what direction I want the rest of the year to go. Lots of food for thought while I also stuffed myself with Iowa goodies.

I’m aiming to find my true north. The idiom “true north” refers to finding or proceeding on the correct course or in the right direction. I know that literally and metamorphically, my compass has been off this year. Some uncomfortable changes were forced on me, but I am solely to blame for the poor choices I made. Me, myself and I. Remember how those little wind up toys just took off on the tabletop, heading every which way and making random abrupt turns ..that’s me!

I get clarity when I go home to Iowa to visit my family, especially because my adult son comes along. He “sees” things differently from me so I am encouraged to let go of some of the expectations and resentments I carry. I can open my old eyes to see the beauty of Iowa and the beauty of the love in my family. So Resolution 3: Pay attention to the stories I tell myself and challenge myself to consider telling myself stories that bring connection with others and not isolation. I am not always right! I was wrong when I figured Lena’s and Ollie’s Food truck with “Norwegian brats” would suck. Who knew  lefse and brats go together quite well! Who knew that despite all the vast differences between my siblings and me, l can love each and every one. 

Resolution 2: Dont take it personally. I’m responsible for my own feelings and not everyone will think I am a goddess. People pleasing ends up pleasing no one. Judging and comparing myself with others leads to disconnection. In the unlikely event that someone disagrees with me I can listen, agree to disagree and let respect be the guiding principle. I’m not less than or more than. I’m realizing how judgmental I am. What an ego! I am one of many and it is enough to be good enough and not the best or impossibly perfect. It is true that the world does not revolve around me, and if it did it would have a very wonky orbit. 

I’ve been thinking about “niceness” and whether I am a “nice” person. I’m thinking of nice as “pleasant, polite and agreeable”.  I’ve decided my most important resolution, Resolution 1 is: Don’t be nice. Be kind, authentic and compassionate. None of these traits require that I always do what others think I should do. Being truthful with myself is critical. If there is uncomfortable silence after I’ve said something, it could mean I need to “Shut the f**k up.”, or it could mean I have just voiced a truth that others believe shouldn’t be talked about or want to stay in denial about. Did you just step on my toes, or am I wearing huge clown shoes or vice versa ? Is there really an elephant trampling around the room that only I can see, or am I the elephant?