Call me crazy, but I’ve envisioned running for U.S. president three times, each time imagining a victorious outcome.
This may sound absurd coming from a middle-aged, post-menopausal woman from a small Florida town, with a bipolar diagnosis, who once ran for local office and lost.
I’ve questioned my sanity plenty of times — and, truth be told, I’ve questioned the sanity of our political system too.
In 2002, I ran a one-woman campaign for Orange County chairman. My daughters were in elementary school, and I had been serving on the School Advisory Committee and PTA. The county was growing fast, and schools desperately needed funding. I supported a half-cent sales tax for schools. The incumbent opposed it, repeating the tired slogan of “no new taxes” until I entered the race.
I had no money for mailers or billboards. But I spoke plainly about stewardship, fairness, and investing in education. In the end, I earned over 27,000 votes. The Orlando Sentinel’s own reporter noted I might be “too honest for politics.” Imagine that: honesty as a liability. What some may not have realized was I wasn’t in the race to win it. It was to stand up for what I believed in.
That campaign — combined with the shock of the Sept. 11 attacks and the weight of personal and professional stress — sent me down a path I never expected. In 2002, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. For years, I carried it as a mark of shame. Today, I see it differently: not as a flaw, but as my nervous system’s way of telling me it feels the world too deeply.
The irony is that what I carried privately then, I now see in our country itself. America’s nervous system is fried. We are a nation flooded with fear, outrage, disinformation, and division.
And when people are overwhelmed, they grasp for extremes. Some leaders manufacture emergencies so they can play the strongman swooping in with “solutions.” That’s not leadership. That’s manipulation. Others soften themselves into niceness, trying to please everyone, but losing the sharp edge of truth. Too extreme, and you fracture the nation. Too nice, and you fail to lead it.
What we need is balance. What we need is the Middle Way: leadership that refuses to weaponize fear, but also refuses to shrink from truth. Leadership rooted in emotional intelligence, courage, and compassion.
For me, political parties are not identities. They are dresses — outfits we wear for a reason or a season, but never the essence of who we are. Red or blue fabric should not define the soul of an individual or nation.
That’s why in 2024, I refused to settle for either party’s candidate. Instead, I cast my ballot for myself as a write-in. Not as a campaign, but as an act of rebellion — a reminder that we don’t have to keep playing by rules written to keep us divided.
The presidency is too sacred to be chained to party loyalty. What if the president was independent — a referee, a compass, a torchbearer for the whole nation rather than a champion of one side?
This isn’t an abstract idea for me. I am the daughter of a Puerto Rican Vietnam veteran and an Austrian mother who survived the Second World War. I grew up in a military family where “no one left behind” wasn’t just a phrase — it was sacred duty. Before 9/11, I prayed that no one be left behind — not in my family, not in my country, not in the world. That prayer has never left me.
My life hasn’t been about ruling. It has been about changing hearts and minds — about calling people back to love, dignity, and wholeness. About doing the right thing even when it’s hard.
So call me crazy. But the only office that calls me is the presidency. Not for power, but for healing. Not to widen the breach, but to close it. Not to leave anyone behind, but to carry the torch forward for all.
Diana Vazquez-Douglas ran for Orange County chairman in 2002, losing a primary to incumbent Rich Crotty. She lives in Clermont.
https://www.orlandosentinel.com/2025/08/30/commentary-americas-nervous-system-is-fried/
