Run, Danita, Run

I use the term “run” loosely because a fast shuffle is more like it. “Look at that old lady kinda running with her two tiny dogs. Doesn’t she look funny?”  Forest Gump had good form at least. The dogs look pretty good as they jog along, but I sure look slow and I’m breathing pretty hard. I keep going for a couple of miles and occasionally encourage the doggies to keep up. I think they may be laughing at me, but on bad days I can hear them cheering me on, ‘Run, Danita, Run”. They are on my side because I feed them and I am their Lord and Master. 

Yep, my profile has been updated to a gray-haired, chubby, almost 69 year old woman. The thing is I’m happier now than I was at 25. I don’t even wish I was 25! This is interesting because at 25 I was sure that 69 year old women were way, way over the hill. If I am over the hill, then I prefer the scenery on this side of the hill. There are “wonders” of aging and I see them with my spectacled eyes and feel them in my heart strengthened by exercise. I believe these are good years for me.

So how did I get here? I followed the straight and narrow path and took the road less travelled. I followed lots of rules and blatantly broke others. I was right when I was wrong and wrong when I was right. I was apathetic and passionate. I screamed and I whispered. I cried in moments of incredible joy and in moments of incredible grief. I won some and lost some.  What has happened to me and the diverse choices I made in the past haven’t delivered happiness to my doorstep. I didn’t follow a path to happiness. Abe Lincoln said “We’re as happy as we make up our minds to be.” and I think he may be right. Others have said“Happiness is an inside job.” It’s not our outer circumstances that bring us happiness,  it’s our inner circumstances. I have many reasons to be unhappy, but I choose to focus on grateful acceptance. My eyes see the same things, but its my heart and brain that interprets how I feel about it. I feel happy.

If you are wondering, I assure you I’m sober and in touch with reality and frou-frou is not my style. I lead a simple life that is full of abundance. I have everything I need and a lot of things I want.  Wishing and hoping are distractions. Most mornings I tie my shoes, leash up Roscoe and Molly and head out to shuffle run for a couple of miles. I leave from my house and always end up back at my house, but in between there is my journey of joy.

The Big SHOULD

If Joe Blow says to me, “Danita, you should lose some weight.”, I feel several things: “That hurts. I’m ashamed. You have no right to say that to me.”  I may hold on to these feelings for awhile, but I can shake them off, albeit with some effort. Unfortunately, the voice I can’t walk away from is my own. In the echo chamber of my mind any “should” is multiplied and echoed exponentially in my thoughts. Whatever the should I’m placing on myself it soon explodes into the big SHOULD. Beneath the weight of this demand on myself, I suffer from a painful pressure on my psyche. I can become vicious in my attack on myself and the adjectives aren’t pretty: worthless, loser, hopeless, powerless, stupid,…. you get the idea. Can this negative cycle be broken?

There is some good news! As I get older I am better at fighting the big SHOULD. My goal is to love myself as I make changes, not withhold my self respect and self love until I accomplish my goals.  If I think I’ll be ok when I can run 5 miles, or lose 10 pounds or get my house perfectly in order, and I then withhold positive regard and love for myself until I meet these goals, I really set myself up to lose.  It’s a what comes first the chicken or the egg type of question.  So what’s the bogey man in should?  A “should” implies that this is what I need to do to be a good moral person; it is a moral failure if I don’t do what I “should” do. 

Isn’t the better question “What do I want for myself?  There is a difference between “I should lose 10 pounds.” and “I want to lose 10 pounds.” It feels different because the locus of control with “want” is internal, and the locus of control with “should” is really from the outside. Someone, somewhere has decided that these are the goals I “should” set for myself. It’s almost impossible to eradicate all the “shoulds” in our world. There is no lack of experts who claim to know what should be done to meet the goals set by every man, woman and child.  

Does “shoulding” ourselves work? Are we motivated to do what we think we should do? It is more likely “shoulding” sets us up to fail.  We simply can’t accomplish all we think we should. Feeling like a failure or feeling shame aren’t feelings that support motivation and change. I can’t shame myself into being successful. If I believe I am flawed and defective because of who I am, how can I allow myself to succeed at any goal I set for myself? That does not compute! Catching myself  in the act of “shoulding” requires me to  be vigilant about what b.s., or big SHOULD, I may be allowing to fester in my thoughts. I can replace these thoughts with more positive messages and self-compassion. I used to think if I didn’t obsess about my weight I would weigh 300 pounds and it was the “shoulds” that were keeping me from this fate. Once I was able to stop flagellating myself for not being perfect, i was able to motivate myself with self-love and compassion. And today I don’t weigh 300 pounds and I don’t think I should weigh 125 either. 

What I tell myself matters. I have to weed the “shoulds” out of my life, pull them up by the roots and let my garden grow.

Clutter And Me

It usually begins in a quiet moment with my eyes surveying my castle, and suddenly, like an itch with an overwhelming urge to scratch, I get this strong feeling—I have to clean, get rid of clutter, get rid of stuff NOW!  I usually start slow by subtracting a few things from my mantel, kitchen table or coffee table. This is the warm up part of de-cluttering. I gather steam and move on to the junk door, my clothes closet or my crafting storage. This morning I was compelled to organize my yarn and crochet thread and to store them in the same spot. I have a shitload of yarn! This is very obvious when I can see it all together. I pick up a lot at the thrift store, and just recently I figured out that if I buy a bag I can take out what I want and give the rest of the yarn bag back to the cashier to re-donate. This is a small step for me to cut back on what I bring home. After all who needs 3 balls of yarn the color of vomit green? Apparently I do!

The amount of clothes and the number of shoes I have is embarrassing. So now my thinking is   is, “If I die and my possessions need to be sorted and gotten rid of will my relatives think it is obscene how many shoes or clothes I had. Will they think I may have been a little weird?”. Sure that both of these questions would be answered with a resounding yes, last weekend I set out to purge my closet by 50%. Bags and bags of clothes and boxes of shoes, purses and hangers left my house and were donated to the thrift store. The number of hangers was testimony to my addiction to always having the perfect clothes for every occasion. I don’t have “casket” clothes anymore, but I am going to be cremated so why should I care? 

I survived without going to the thrift store for over a year during the pandemic. I had enough yarn, crochet thread and craft supplies to keep me busy for the entire year. I lived in sweats and comfortable clothes during the pandemic. Just when I was feeling good that I had conquered my need to have more and more, the stores began to open up. Once I set foot in the thrift stores again, I was off and running on my path of consumption. I was disappointed in myself because I thought I was resolved to live simply and frugally. I needed to remember what I had learned during the pandemic, and my mindset needed to be enough is enough —or wait for another pandemic to make up my mind for me.

 So what did I learn during the pandemic? I learned there is a real difference between need and want. I need food, water, shelter and human contact, but I don’t have “to dress the part” even though I want to. I lived fashionably with my “pandemic clothes”, using just one tenth of my usual wardrobe. Walks and long talks with my friends filled my “social calendar” and my heart and soul. All the “stuff” I had couldn’t protect me from a deadly virus or from myself. All the things in my life didn’t stop my worry about those I loved. I was thankful that I was able to crochet my way through Covid because of my yarn stash, but I barely made a dent in my mountain of yarn that was in danger of an avalanche. I’ve decided my clutter is the rubble caused by my life falling apart. The falling apart is what needed to happen for me to create my post pandemic life. A life without excessive consumption and clutter.

Scam Likely

                                      Scam Likely 

My phone gives me a warning “Scam Likely” when an unknown number or a number tagged as a solicitor rings in. When I see this message I end the call. I like this feature because it saves me from aggravating calls I don’t want and protects me from clever scammers that hope I can be duped.  Why don’t we have phone messages that warn us when we are about to say or do something stupid or dangerous like “ Shut up”  or “Get the hell out of here.”? How about being able to scan a person and get a message about their integrity, like “Lie Likely” or “Trustworthy”?  Avoiding negative consequences with the help of a smart phone which is smarter than I am seems pretty cool, but would I listen?

Remember how your parents didn’t know anything? It seems experience may be the best teacher, but we can ignore our parents experiences because we know “ It won’t happen to me.”. If we have learned Option A  brings the same negative result over and over, then it seems logical we would choose a different option next time. Not so fast! We humans are rarely logical.  If our phone tells us to “Shut up.”, but we are sure the world and our spouse needs to hear what we have to say, we may override the phone warning. We could  think “This time it will be different.”, or “I have to prove I am right”. When I remember to ask myself  “Why am I talking?”, I find I have less to say, and fewer words to eat. It sure would be nice to get a text message reminding me to think before I open my mouth.

Intuition or those weird feelings telling us something is wrong are the “text”messages we get from our sub-conscious. Sometimes I talk myself out of seemingly “irrational” feelings because  I don’t trust myself. If I can’t point to an experience that backs up what I am feeling, should I ignore a feeling based on intuition?  When I say I am getting bad or good vibes, this is what I am talking about. What I have learned is that it is better for me to listen to my intuition. The cold, hard facts may not tell the whole story. The truth may lie in the realm of emotions and sensing, more than in the facts. If all the arrows point West, the best decision could be to go East. We’re often told to make a list of the pros and cons when we are making a big decision, but I’ve found for me these lists are less important that asking myself “How do I feel about a choice? Do I feel at peace with this choice?” Even when I know one path may be harder than the other, I may choose the harder path because it feels right. Still it would be nice, if my smart phone could give me GPS directions so I would know I am going in the right direction in my life. But what fun is that, if joy comes from being lost?

The World Is Flat

                                                               Missey’s Poppy 

      June 18, 2021

I’m at the end of the world.”, my Mother says. She is in late stage dementia so can’t explain herself, but she seemed to be saying she was far away, at the edge of the world and didn’t feel connected with others. For centuries, the perception was the world is flat, and defined by boundaries and edges, which when crossed led to oblivion. Literally and figuratively, walking off the edge of the world was considered a real possibility. In the world of dementia, my Mother may understand more than me who stubbornly clings to  “reality”.

What are the ties that bind humans to each other? A person with dementia is untied from their memories.  “I remember” becomes “I don’t remember.” Without memory we can’t recognize others, and I suspect we can’t recognize ourselves.  If we have no history, no “this is how I got here”, how do we know who the hell we are? These thoughts are more than mental gymnastics for me.  Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about history and “what” history and “whose”history we remember. For example, our history or memory of slavery is vastly different depending on the color of our skin.  If we erase certain historical events aren’t we erasing parts of our nation’s collective memories? Don’t we risk breaking our connections to each other and to ourselves?

We “remember” January 6 differently. To some, it was just a normal day with tourists visiting the Capital, and to others it was an insurrection. We humans are very skilled at seeing what we want to see and disregarding the rest. Denial can erase the truth from our minds, but it doesn’t make it go away. My Mother may not remember that I am her daughter, but I am still her daughter. If we can’t agree on history and even the events of January 6th, what chance do we have of remembering how democracy works?  Maybe the world IS flat….

RSVP: to respond to an invitation, or in French: respondez s’il vous plait.  Everything sounds better in French, doesn’t it? It seems a simple thing, you receive an invitation, a request to be present or participate, are you planning to attend? Please RSVP.  Of course, we humans are not always very good at keeping it simple. Do I want to go to Snarky Susan’s Christmas party? Should I go even if I don’t want to because the party would be good for meeting new business clients? If I don’t want to go what excuse can I give? Or worst of all, I didn’t even get an invitation to the most important party of the year, I can’t RSVP because nobody loves me and I am terminally unpopular.

Johnny, a first grader,  is not asked to RSVP to first grade. He is expected to answer “present” when his name is called. When you have major surgery scheduled, the surgeon does not send an invitation and ask you to RSVP.  You best be present and ready for the surgery. In fact, many medical or dental offices expect you to cancel at least 24 hours before your appointment, or you may end up with a cancellation penalty. If your boss says the meeting is mandatory, he or she is not asking you to RSVP.  Be present or risk being asked to not be present permanently.

The wording on social invitations, like weddings, usually says  “We request the honor of your presence at…. Please RSVP by this date.” So it is the “ honor of your presence” that the RSVP answers. How often do we think our presence is an honor? Or that someone is honoring us by their presence? We are devastated by betrayal from our loved ones, and we say in effect “ … but you RSVP’d and you said you would be present for me and now you are not.” I like the sound of “ the honor of your presence”. How do I show honor to someone? I think it means showing up, and being present for another. As in: “to regard or treat (someone) with respect and admiration, to show admiration for someone or (something) in a public way, or to do what is required by a promise or a contract, or the center point of the upper half of an armorial escutcheon.”  ( Wait!  Scratch that last definition,  because I don’t have a clue what it means.)  So the bride and groom are requesting the honor of our presence so they can honor the presence of each other..  When we are truly present and honoring each other, we have sent a RSVP to accept the invitation to love.

If we are paying attention, life extends many invitations to each of us and we have many opportunities to RSVP, to accept or decline. We can accept the invitations that help us to be our best selves and decline those which encourage us to be less than. Sometimes invitations are sent several times and we may RSVP a different response at different times in our lives. Will you be present and honor your life? Please RSVP.

“Violent Certainities”

We all watched with horror as our Democracy was attacked on January 6th. Many speakers and writers have addressed this coup with much more eloquent and incisive words of outrage than I can muster. I was stunned into silence and my outrage choked me. I have kept a scrap of a Harpers Weekly cover on my refrigerator for many years, at least 20 years. The quote on the cover, by Verlyn Klinkenborg referred to anti-abortionists, but it has continued to speak to me on many political and social issues over the years. The quote comes from his article “Violent Certainities”:

               The more I watched…, the more I understood that there was something 

             terribly hard in these people, a ferocious, alienating certainty. There is a

               look that the human face assumes when  the mind stops considering variables….

And that is what I saw last Wednesday. This “ferocious” certainty  is not the truth. It is based on conspiracy theories or the word of a deranged leader.  Let’s be honest, this IS who we are for a large minority in this country. 

This week more news of violence. Last week, several Republican senators refused to wear masks  as they were confined in close quarters with their Democratic colleagues, everyone in fear for their safety. Obviously the “safety” of their colleagues was not a consideration for these Republicans. So far 3 Democratic Senators have tested positive for Covid. More evidence of “violent certainities” that put others lives in danger.  The far right mob beat and killed , smashed windows, trespassed, vandalized and threatened to kill enemies defined by Trump. The Senators refusal to wear masks is another violent act.  

911 God.

Adios 2020

And don’t let the door hit you in the ass….  2021 will begin at 12 a.m. tonight and unless you are looking at the clock you will not be aware the year has changed.  2020 should really slink away in shame and be begging for mercy like some presidents we know. By  years end, just a few hours from now almost 350,000 Americans will have died from Covid 19. And the worse is to come. I can’t comprehend this number, but I know it is one father, one grandmother, one son, one daughter, one sister, one brother…times 350,000.  The amount of grief in the world right now should cause planet Earth to spin out of the Milky Way into oblivion. Instead we are left to 2021, a new year, to renew our spirit and heal our souls.

This past year I have stumbled. My resentment and my hate of Donald Trump have grabbed me by the throat and almost suffocated me. This was extremely damaging to me and I’m sure Trump really didn’t notice. I am resolved I will learn to practice more tolerance and compassion of others and myself.  Fear is at the base of these destructive feelings and I pray for the courage to turn around and confront the Fear. Working from home has been both a blessing and a curse. I can leave the news channels on all day if I want. I can also turn them off or set time limits in 2021. Late this year I deleted my Facebook account and 2021 will be a test of my resolve to stay off this platform. Let’s face it, 2020 has been a real hot mess, but I don’t have to be. 2021 is brand new! 

 In  2020, I’ve learned that humans need human social interaction.  Knowing that I need family and friends in my life does not make me a dependent wimp. It makes me human and interdependent. The refrain “We can get through this together.” has been sorely tested in 2020. Where is the together? You get thru your pandemic and I’ll get thru my pandemic,  and IF we come out the other side we could be  more divided than we are now. We still have a chance in 2021 to get through this together. Everyone has picked their side but there is another option— we all choose to be on the same side.

The economic and racial injustice in our society became front and center this past summer. Is justice dependent on the color of your skin, how big your pocketbook is or who you know? It sure looked like it. I don’t know if we have taken any real steps towards  justice for all,  but we may be looking and leaning in the right direction. Baby steps in 2021.  Standing still is not an option.

Learning opportunities were very plentiful in 2020. Put another way, 2020 sucked. We don’t like to learn new things because it is hard. So as JFK asked do we curse the darkness or light a candle? I plan to light a candle in 2021.

Give Me A Clue

The butler did it, in the parlor, with a candlestick. The game of Clue is a classic board game with rules, but the game of Life can be played anywhere and has no rules. Hardly seems fair. Am I getting “Hot” or “Cold”? I’m afraid some of the paths I went down were taken when my better intuition was screaming “Stop, you’re getting cold, colder, you’re frigid ….” Am I clueless or just not paying attention?

Who? The culprit is me. I’m guilty. I did the deed. I’m always right, until I am amazingly, incredibly…wrong. I’d rather blame you, but I know it’s not you, the other guy, any “other” in fact.  For many years, the truth and I rarely crossed paths. The traits I hated in you were really mine. You done me wrong and I was a victim. The problem was I rarely took responsibility, but when I did I was responsible for everyone else’s behavior towards me. I deserved it, I caused it and I had to stay until I changed it. Running the whole world was my job even when I thought I was a victim, I was just bad at it. It’s hard to be a good actor when you’re  acting in bad faith.  

Where? Anyplace that I called home. There was no geographic cure. Wherever I was I weaponized my arrogant self-hate against myself and others. My reactions and over-reactions were not tied to a spot on a map. I couldn’t outrun myself. Finally I stopped following the bread  crumbs, turned around and said “Boo!  Give me what you got.” It was a messy place for awhile, but at least I wasn’t in a witches pot being prepared for dinner. There were small towns in Iowa that I still think of as where I fell from grace. Time to forgive myself. Colorado has been my place of healing and my return to grace. 

Surely a  heavy candlestick is a good weapon, but I prefer using words.  Words do matter and can destroy an opponent without bloodshed and crime scene tape. Both sharp and blunt words can be effective weapons in taking the life out of someone’s dreams and hopes. My fingerprints can’t be lifted off a destructive rant or lie. Verbal abuse doesn’t leave bruises, but still leaves a mark on the soul. Your tears and my tears are clues a crime has taken place. And of course there’s always “Actions speak louder than words.” My betrayals were news worthy. I now know how powerful kind words are so I might not pick up the weapon of hurtful words so easily

Cue the Pink Panther and Inspector Jacques Clouseau or Sherlock Holmes. Everybody loves a good “Who Done It?” I’ll give you a clue….

Uninhabited Planet

I’ve been having this weird feeling lately that I’m not really living in my body.  An awareness of me watching me, observing my own life, is a strange sensation. So is this the Covid Conundrum? Social isolation may be isolating me from myself. Do I need personal relationships to have a relationship with myself?

Earlier this year, I could walk into “my coffee shop, my home away from home, my office” and be greeted by a familiar face who asked me if I wanted my usual chocolate and raspberry scone. Albeit on a transactional level, they saw me, they knew me and vice versa. Pleasantries were exchanged about the weather and the news while my coffee was being dispensed.  My table was occupied—by me. I had boundaries. I wrote and I worked and life was good. Maybe the best aspect of my coffee shop was the friends who joined me there for coffee. I told them to meet me at my office and they knew what I meant. 

As the world began to open up after lockdown I had to make difficult decisions. Did I feel safe in particular settings and would my friends understand my limits? Several times I had to cancel plans to get together because I was overwhelmed by fear and stopped by a strong belief that the situation was not safe. Friends had different comfort levels and I wanted to be like them, but I had to trust myself. I questioned my decisions and their decisions too, and I began to feel like I was becoming judgmental of myself. I compared myself to others and began to watch myself navigate the post lockdown world and see how I appeared to others. Why wasn’t my comfort level with being out and about the same as some of my friends? Did they know something I didn’t know? 

So now it looks as if vaccine could be widely distributed in my risk level in early 2021. The end of the long experiment of Covid isolation and social distancing will produce unknown results. I know I can’t drop my Covid identity immediately, and I’m not sure what changes the year long Covid world has produced in me. I’m afraid I won’t recognize myself and  I doubt I will be able to slip back into my old roles and life with ease. I’ve  changed and I won’t be the same as I try to fit myself into the new me. It will be interesting.

Vaccine? Who said vaccine?