Note to My Dad

 Hello readers! 

I have a running note on my phone that is a letter to my dad. I write one every so often. Well, today I want to share a small excerpt from the note I wrote him :) enjoy! 

Lucas brought up an interesting question the other day. He asked if I would have my tattoos if you were still alive. I kind of laughed, and then instinctively said no. Then we went about our day, but the question stuck with me. How would I feel about my tattoos, or the thought of them, if you were still here? I’ve thought a lot about it because I don’t actually know the answer. I think a big thing for me with my tattoos is that most of them represent a living creature that had/has a major impact on me. The one that represents you and mom is nice because you’re gone from this earth, so I see my forearm and in that moment think of you. I have a physical representation of you. And now that you’re gone, it’s comforting to see those flowers on me, still here. It won’t wash off, it won’t disappear. Everyday, the mason jar filled with wild flowers is there.. making me think of a moment in time that I’ll never get again. So far, that tattoo and my Stickchi tattoo are the only ones representing life that is no longer. I hope it stays that way for a long time. And my tattoo that is for me, a reminder to keep fighting the good fight, I feel like you’d approve of it. I guess that’s begs the question though, if you hadn’t died.. would I have that same need to etch art into my skin so those lost can feel close? My first tattoo was for Lucas, still here and still very close :) but it has been nice on nights we’re apart. I can just hug my left rib cage and think of him while I feel him too. Did your death teach me the fragility of life? And give me the knowledge that in a moment, everything can change? I do like that Lucas loves my tattoos, and loves the one for him. I wonder if you saw my tattoos, if your reaction would be similar to those in your age group. Kind of that awkward “cool, not sure what to say here..” vibe I’ve gotten. Or would you be ok with them? Would you ask questions about each one? And comment on the detail and beauty in them? All these questions I’d love to hear your answers. I guess it boils down to maybe. Maybe I wouldn’t have any of my tattoos if you were still alive, Dad. Maybe I would have more. Maybe I’d have half. All that matters is I love them, and I sure look forward to telling you about them someday. As per usual, I miss you. I love you Dad 🤟

07/31/25

Endless Winter

Hello Readers! What has it been now, a couple years? Well, here I am :)

My title is pretty dramatic, but also very accurate this year. Here we are mid April, and snow is still covering my front yard. I am not happy about this. Did we need the moisture? Sure. Do we need this much? I don’t know, but it seems like too much. Hopefully the sun will start shining more often, and the weather forecast will start being wrong when it calls for a high of 28 degrees. Until then, I’m going to keep taking my Vitamin D and blog about a story that goes with the title ;)

Just a little side note- Sunday was my Dad’s birthday! He would’ve turned 70. I miss him and hope he’s enjoying his heavenly birthday week with some heavenly rocky road ice cream :)

My endless winter is also my endless summer. So many mixed emotions and feelings all within a span of one day. So tiring, taxing, and draining. Yet, so exciting, rewarding, and joyous. I feel like only a few things fit that description, and for me, it’s: Motherhood. Well, I should specify: Motherhood with 3 young children. 

I love my children with my whole heart. I’m so grateful for them and I love watching them grow and develop into the wonderful people they are. So don’t take any of this as me not being incredibly and utterly grateful for the privelege of being their mother. 

When we welcomed McCartney into our family a little over 6 years ago, Lucas and I found it was best for us for me to be a stay at home mom. I already wrote all about that in another post, but for the 5 1/2 years I was a full time mom, it was sure a rollercoaster ride. But so worth it. Last summer, a job opportunity presented itself that I jumped on. The unique thing is I’m still a full time mom, now just a part time worker as well. My job is awesome in that on my office days, my kids are allowed to come with me. They have toys and couches set up, so they are good for the few hours I do my in-office things. I also have a home office set up, and I don’t work more than 20 or so hours a week. It’s really a great fit for our family! I’m very grateful for my job. It took a few months to get over the Mom Guilt that would try to bring me down for not giving my kids 100% of my attention 20 hours a week. I’m happy to say I pushed that unnecessary guilt aside and it’s working out :) 

Being that I’m still with my kids (besides my oldest who is in full day school) 24/7, my “endless winter” can have some days that see little to no “summer”. My youngest, Brooks, had quite the time when he got to about 10 months old. He discovered high pitch screaming, and that was so fun ;). He especially loved to scream when anyone came into the office to talk to me, and any time I needed to make a work call from home. That scream caused me some hearing loss, I’m sure of it. Brooks also discovered how to wrestle and tackle once he started walking. Oh, and the pinching. My poor four year old, Murphy, was the test dummy for all of Brooks’s discoveries. She wouldn’t do anything to provoke him, he would just come up to her, tackle her, then pinch her arm hard enough to leave a mark. Lots of tears from everyone during that 8 month streak. And how do you discipline a 10-18 month old?! He didn’t understand when I told him no, so it was rough.

Murphy, being a typical four year old girl, brought on its own challenges. She started preschool, which has been great. She’s doing awesome and really coming into her personality. But man, her passion about some things like chocolate covered granola bars and short sleeved dresses is something fierce. If I’m out of the specific bars she likes, all hell will break loose. If I try to give her a t-shirt or long sleeved dress to wear that day, I won’t be leaving the house until I give in and get her a short sleeved dress. (I’ve since learned it’s not worth the fight, so all she has is short sleeved dresses). Trying to balance these two little raging balls of emotion with a to do list for work and a to do list for housework can get pretty complicated. 

Sometimes, Motherhood can leave me feeling very alone. Although my kids would rather sit in a steamy, humid bathroom than give me a shower alone, I still feel the lonliness creep in. I do have some amazing friends (shoutout to my bestie Erin) who help with this because they are in the same boat. It’s just a weird experience being lonely while never being left alone.

Overstimulation is a real thing. Every so often I feel like if one of my kids lays another finger on me for a snuggle or hug, I might explode. I love my baby snuggles, but sometimes it gets to be too much. And when your kids have been whining all day (my six year old most definitely included in this) and complaining that you “never snuggle” with them and “never play” with them…when you spent all morning doing just those things..it can add another level to the overstimulation. 

Every now and then Lucas and I will talk about the hypothetical question: “Would you rather eliminate sleep or eliminate food if you had to pick one”. I definitely thought (before kids) I would eliminate sleep because then I’d get an extra 8 hours in a day to eat ;) but really, sleep seemed like the obvious choice. Well after having kids, I now realize I would pick food in a heartbeat. Figuring out what three picky eaters will eat for breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, dinner, and dessert is so exhausting! Well, my kids aren’t actually super picky, but my oldest has Celiacs Disease so all gluten snacks are off the table for her. There are certain things my kids just won’t eat, but then when I stick to buying what they will eat..after a while they get sick of it. And they don’t want the alternatives. And they are Always. Hungry. I’m grateful they’re growing and know they will get food when they ask for it, but man! I’m always looking for filling snacks, balanced meals, and worrying about their nutrition. If there were some magical way we could eat just for enjoyment, I’d be all over that ;)

Even with all these things that can make my “winter” seem endless, there is always a break in the clouds when my “sunshine” shines through. When McCartney comes home from school, Murphy and Brooks wait at the door impatiently and shout out “McCartney!!” while she gets off the bus and walks up our steps. McCartney still thinks I’m the bees knees and comes to me with any and all things she wants to talk about. Murphy is the best snuggler and she can be so, so sweet. She always lets me know I’m “a good mom” and that she loves me. Brooks is finally talking, which has decreased the screaming. He gives the best hugs and is a definite Mama’s Boy. He’s so sweet and silly, and rounds our family out in the best way.

I love watching my kids grow, and helping them along the way. I love hearing their ideas, and listening to them laugh at each other’s jokes. I hope and pray they’ll stay best friends as they get older. I love seeing them step into their personalities. I love how different and unique they are from each other. They each have their own dislikes/likes, interests, and opinions. They play together so well and I just love it.

My children give me a slew of emotions and “weather”. Through the cold of the winter, and the warmth of the summer, my three children make up the best part of my life. Whether it’s “winter” or “summer”, I know it’s not actually endless. One day they’ll be grown and doing their own thing. I need to remind myself of this daily when I find myself wishing they would be older already. I’m sure that time will bring on its own climate change ;) For now, I’ll enjoy the moments of joy, and keep in mind it’s fleeting during the moments of hardship. 

As far as this actual winter, if you’re somewhere sunny and nice…please send all those vibes this way :) 

-Allison S. Dahl

Patience Reward

 Hello readers! I think maybe I should stop apologizing for not posting as often, because you are all used to it by now ;)

As we are all aware, I miss my dad quite a bit. For some reason, and maybe it was due to the fact I was pregnant for most of it, this third-going-into-fourth year of my dad being gone has been the hardest. I think about him frequently and almost always my thoughts of him turn into tears. There have been so many things I want to talk to him about, and as time goes on, I can no longer imagine what he would say. It's getting harder to remember his voice and the memories are growing more faint. I thought that wouldn't happen until 10 or so more years, but I guess I was wrong.

One memory I have of my dad actually spans over several years. It all started when I was 8 or 9 years old. We were living in Washington, and our garage was a mess. Probably from the recent move two years prior, and the fact we used the garage as storage and not a place to park cars ;). Anyway, my dad was supposed to go on a bike ride with me, but was tasked with cleaning the garage a bit. I can't remember if he was looking for something specific in there, or if it was just cleaning out junk. Either way, this was delaying our bike ride. My dad realized it was getting late, and we wouldn't be able to go. When he told me this, I didn't throw a fit and said I understood. He was happy with my response, and promised he'd give me a "Patience Reward". I'm sure as this first promise originated, he was thinking an ice cream cone from McDonald's. I was also thinking that's what it would be. 

Time passed, and we never went to get that reward. Even more time passed, and it turned into an annual reminder that I still needed that "Patience Reward". He always said it required patience (pun intended) and so I would happily wait, knowing that as more time went on, the bigger this reward would be. 

For ten years, I brought up this reward and was told it was coming. Finally, one morning, I think the day of my High School graduation, I heard a knock on my door. My dad said, "Your patience reward is on your door!". Since it had been so long, I was honestly expecting a set of car keys. I opened my door, and hanging from the knob was a baseball cap with the college I was going to on it. I was sorely disappointed. That is what I have been waiting for all these years?! Obviously I was sad thinking this is what all that patience had gotten me.

Then I walked out to the living room, and my dad told me to come talk to him in his room. Still upset about the baseball cap that was probably free, I followed him in hoping there'd be an explanation. Then my dad showed me his new iPod Touch he just got, and I thought, "oh cool, that's where the reward went". He then said he just got it with the laptop he got me. I was confused because usually he would get the graduating kid a Dell laptop, but I knew Dell wouldn't hand out iPods with their laptops. My dad sat patiently while I pieced it together. Finally my face lit up when I realized he had gotten me an Apple laptop! "A MacBook Pro!" he said, furthering my excitement. I then said, "so that's the real Patience Reward.." And he smiled and we hugged. I love everything Apple, so I definitely thought it was worth the wait.

I still have the laptop 11 years later, and it (kind of) still works. During school when I used it the most, I often thought of this time and how the Patience Reward went from a (then) $0.50 ice cream cone to a pricey laptop. Had my dad been able to go on the bike ride, or even just get the ice cream cone, I would've ended up with a Dell ;) In all seriousness, who knows what would've happened, but I wouldn't have had that learning experience with my dad. It's even more valuable to me now that's he's on the other side. I know that my patience in waiting to see him again will have the greatest reward of all, a hug from my dad. I think it was more than just waiting to get a reward, it was how I waited. Being patient isn't just not asking about it, or not throwing a fit over it. Being patient is happily waiting and having a positive attitude. Sure, I get really sad in waiting to see my dad again. I have times where I can't stop the tears or swallow the knot in my throat. But I try to live my life in a way that when I do see my dad again, he'll be proud of what I've accomplished. I have the times where I ask to feel him or the times where I just wish I could see him now, like the annual reminder that I hadn't received my reward yet. The rest of the time, though, I'm enjoying each moment with my husband. I'm laughing with my three beautiful children. I'm finding ways to serve others, and make the most of my church responsibilities. I'm being kind to strangers, and waving at the construction worker holding the stop sign. Smiling at the other shoppers in the grocery store. Being kind to my server who is bombarded with tables. All these little things I do on a daily basis are a way of being patient and fulfilling the time I have here on earth. 

I know it seems a little dramatic to say I'll be waiting to see my dad again for the rest of my life, but behind all the living, aren't we all waiting? Waiting to be with ones we've lost too soon, waiting for things to be ok in the end, waiting to see what happens next? Perhaps the better words for waiting are continuing on, or moving forward with, or marching on. Either way, all those things require patience. And if we can find a way to be patient happily, doing the best we can, I know we'll all receive the best Patience Reward in one way or another.

-Allison S. Dahl  

For My Dad

 The memories play,

sometimes on repeat.

Depending on the day,

they'll sweep me off my feet.

I think of you,

your laugh, your smile,

What you would do

to make me feel worth while.

I drive the streets alone,

wondering what you'd say

If these streets lead me home,

and you'd be there today.

Would you be proud

of all that I've done?

Would you cheer so loud

for all the battles I've won?

How would you respond

When I tell you of my life?

Would it make you fond,

and tell Lucas he has a good wife?

What jokes would you make

that would have me roll my eyes?

What drives would we take,

if we never had to say goodbye?

What games would you play

with my two girls,

and my son on the way?

How would the world

be so different today..

If you were still here,

sitting next to me,

Telling me all the stories

and things that could be?

You said to never give up,

not on my dreams,

not on my wants,

and not on my needs.

You taught me to love.

You taught me to be proud.

You taught me to care,

But the silence has become loud.

I yearn to hear what you think,

What you would really say.

I hurt to hear your words:

It'll be ok.

The memories have held me,

They've gotten me through now.

But now I can't help but wonder:

Would life be better somehow 

If you were here?

If you had gotten to stay?

Maybe everything

wouldn't be this way.

I miss you more 

With every day that passes.

I still think of you 

Each time I clean my glasses.

I'll always wish you could be

Right here, right now,

Laughing and sitting with me.

Oh how I long 

For my daughters to know

Just how incredibly strong

And wonderful you are.

I'll tell them stories,

I'll show them pictures,

But nothing compares 

To having a hug a bug 

Whose warmth could melt any winter.

I'll watch the sunsets

And wonder where you are. 

I'll be kind and loving,

And hope you're not far.

I hope you can see me now,

And I know it wasn't the end.

I'll keep talking to you somehow,

And I can't wait 

Until we meet again.

-Allison S. Dahl

Overdue

Hello readers! Thank you for taking the time to read my blog. I know there are lots of other things you could be spending your time reading, so I do appreciate you making the choice to pick my post :)

Well, like many of my other posts, I've thought a great deal on this topic. Not only because I suffer from it myself, but because I feel there is a lack of people in my boat speaking about it. I'm talking about mental illness. I know I did another blog on it before, well maybe a few, but this one I really want to share my point of view on it. So to begin...

Lately there have been some celebrity suicides that have sparked the conversation of mental health. Television hosts have shared their opinions, and I see more and more memes talking about it. I do think we as a society have progressed in making mental illness less taboo, but it's still a "tricky" subject. There are very strong and loud people who believe a camping trip can solve your mental instabilities. Or there are people who think throwing pills at any sign of problem is the answer. I do believe that both options can be a solution...heavily depending on the person in question. Either way, I think our nation is recognizing that mental health is a serious thing, and should not be taken lightly.

When I was nine years old, the first traumatic thing happened in my life. There was a divorce in my family, and I remember hearing the news and not understanding it. I grew up with a mom and a dad who loved each other, and I thought divorce was only on the movies. (Which usually ended up as the couple getting back together). I sat on my bed in my room and just stared. Looking back, I now know this is when signs of my mental illness began. I stopped eating, playing with friends didn't sound fun, and I honestly longed to be a fly on the wall. Or a picture frame. Lifeless. These are thoughts a nine year old probably shouldn't have. It was a really hard time for my family, and looking back I think we all did the best we could.

As I got a little older, the other side of my mental illness showed up. I'm not going to go into every detail, but I did things that I would never do as myself. I ran cross country in 7th and 8th grade, and according to my doctor later on, that would be why I went undiagnosed for so long. My mental illness is Bi-Polar 1 Disorder , the worst kind of bi-polar. I have both manic and depressive phases. So when I ran cross country, I would run out the energy of mania, then give myself endorphins when I was depressed. This didn't stop my episodes from happening, just made them less apparent I guess. I did some really awful things, and when I would come down from the mania, I wouldn't know why I had done them.

New environments is a really big trigger for my disease, so when we moved to Idaho when I was 14, it got really bad. Some of my teachers even thought I was doing drugs because I was so manic. Way to make a good first impression, eh? Anyway, one of the episodes landed me in the hospital. I can't remember why, but after 5 minutes with a psychiatrist, he knew I had Bi-Polar Disorder. It explained a lot to my parents, and I suppose a lot to me once I became stable again and could understand. Medication, in my case, was the definite answer. And only answer, really. So I spent two months in a residential treatment facility where they found the right combination to help me stay stable. I really, really wish I could say my story with mental illness ends there, and that I've been stable ever since I left the treatment facility. But, as you can guess, I can't.

Going back to high school set off another episode, where I cut all my own hair off, and landed another hospital stay. This time it was shorter, though, and we were able to get me back in school and functioning properly. I ran cross country again Junior year and, although kids were pretty brutal, high school wasn't too bad. I stayed fairly stable through most of it, and graduated on time (which was actually rather impressive given my ninth grade start).

After I graduated, I went to BYU-I and didn't have any problems. My doctor even said maybe I would be ok without medication one day. That maybe it was my adolescence that made the episodes so bad. Well, this was false hope because I will always be on medication. Anyway, my point is there was hope.

After one semester at "The Burg", I decided that was not where I wanted to be. I moved to California and thought I would take my doctor up on his guess, and quit taking my medicine. I'm sure you can imagine, but all hell broke loose and I only lasted about a month a half out there. I moved back home, then after a few months moved down to Salt Lake. I promised myself I would always take my medicine, no matter how "good" I was feeling. I've taken it every day since, not once skipping. (Besides when I was pregnant, because somehow I'm super stable on the natural pregnancy hormone..fancy that)

I did pretty well in Utah. Despite not actually going to college, which is why I went in the first place, I was able to hold down a job, pay rent, and be on my own. I made friends, dated, and had a really good time. This is where my adoption post comes in, and explains that large part of my life. It's hard for me to remember if I had an episode right around the time I got pregnant because I was pregnant or because my medicine wasn't working, but I do remember taking it until my doctor told me to stop.

This is turning out longer than I anticipated, but thank you if you're still hanging on ;)

I consider myself very lucky that the depression I suffered from the adoption was what you would expect to suffer, and wasn't anything out of the ordinary. I do think my medication had a part to play in that. Well, right before I met my sweet Lucas, I was prescribed a birth control that counteracted my medication in a very negative way. But, like most people do, I listened to my OB/GYN and took it without researching it first. HUGE mistake on my part. It doesn't take a neurologist to figure out happened next. It took a good month and half or so for my mom and I to put together that it was the birth control making me crazy. I even went to the mental hospital for a week and even they didn't have an answer as to why I was having episodes. Somehow, Lucas stayed with me during the whole thing, and we were all very relieved when I stopped taking the birth control and returned to normalcy.

I was stable up until January 2016 when the medicine I was taking just simply wasn't enough anymore. Unfortunately, Lucas and I hadn't planned ahead and we didn't have a doctor to go to down here in Nevada, so it got ugly before we had the help for it to get better. I am happy to say, however, that that was my last episode and I haven't had one since *knocks on wood*. I'm hoping to stay on top of it and always have a therapist and psychiatrist ready in case any red flags start to show up.

My purpose in sharing my life story is so that people can understand better. It's very, very hard to understand mental illness if you don't have it. It's that way with lots of things. I can easily say having Bi-Polar has ruined my life in several ways. I wasn't able to finish my Dental Assisting certificate because of it, I lost many close relationships because of it, and there is just a lot of lost time because of it. The only reason I'm grateful for my disorder is because it opened my mind to others who suffer from mental illness. I know Anxiety and Depression are real things people have to live with. I know OCD isn't just a "neat freak" thing. I know a lot about not being able to trust your own mind. And let me tell you, it sucks. It really, really sucks.

I think the hardest part of having a mental illness is not having a way to explain to people what it feels like. Or watching people think that what you did or what you said while you were having an episode is what you are really like. That it somehow represents something that's actually part of who you are. I can tell you right now, not a SINGLE episode I've had has been an accurate representation of who I am or something I feel. Not even a little bit. I always came down from being manic and would look back and be so, so embarrassed of the things I did or said. And it never made sense, it never once was something I had been thinking of or wanting to do.

So, if there's one thing I want you to take away from this post, it's understanding. Maybe you know someone in your life who has told you they have a mental illness. Or maybe they were anxious, or manic, or depressed, and did something to hurt you. My plea is to just try to understand. It's not their true selves doing these things. And, like I said earlier in this post, maybe some of these people just need a camping trip to clear their heads and take a break. But more often than not, actual help is needed from a professional. Understanding something you don't have yourself is hard, but maybe we can try a little harder and be more empathetic (or sympathetic?) and help those around us who are suffering.

Thank you so much if you've read this. I hope it has shed some light on a topic we're not all comfortable with.

-Allison S. Dahl

I Miss You, Dad

Hello again, readers! As promised, here is another post...before March :)

For those of you who don't know, my father passed away from cancer June 1st, 2017. He had been fighting it for 14 months, and ultimately the cancer won.

I've written about my dad on here before, and reading those posts has been comforting. I think what I've been wanting to write about is how his absence has really had an impact on my life.

Obviously when you lose a parent to death, there's going to be a void. No matter your age or the circumstance, you're losing someone that is vitally important to you. I was 24 when my dad died, and I really felt like that was not fair. I kept thinking, "well, younger people have lost their parents..." but I kind of hate that line of thinking because this was hard for me. The whole "someone has it worse than you" is so belittling to your problems that I try my best not to use that. But that's beyond my point. Anyway, I felt too young to be losing my dad. He and I were close and he was such a good friend to me. Plus, I had a 5 month old that didn't even know him yet. I was angry and sad.

For you to really grasp this impact, you first need to understand who my dad was to me. He was my dad, yes, but he was a really good dad. He dropped everything for me on several occasions. And I don't mean that figuratively, like he actually dropped all his plans/called off work to come rescue me from situations or problems I was having. An example of this was when I was living in Salt Lake. I was going through a really hard time. I was dating Adelé's father and he wasn't very kind to me, I was pretty poor, and I had lost my hope for life. I called my dad and told him I was struggling. That's pretty much all I said. The next thing I knew, he was on his way down to Salt Lake to take me to dinner and even buy me a new (well used, but in great condition) car. (I was driving a really crappy, beat up pickup truck at the time.) It may have been a simple outing, but it helped so much. He let me talk and vent about whatever I wanted. He didn't pry or ask me questions I didn't want to answer. He actually surprised me with the car, and he did all this to make me feel better. I'm sure it wasn't convenient. I'm sure it was a little burdensome. But that didn't bother him. He just did things like that for me.

My dad was also a talker. If you ever knew the man, you can attest to this. Sometimes, and I hate admitting this, when my phone would ring and I would see it was him, I would roll my eyes because I knew I'd be on the phone for the next 45 minutes. Now, I would give anything to have another phone call with him. I never felt like it was a waste of time after we hung up, though. We always had good conversations. He always listened to me and made me feel validated and heard. He gave advice, even when I didn't necessarily ask for it ;) he did make sure to warn me first that it was coming, though. He was usually right with his advice. My dad was always a phone call away if I needed to talk, and always ready to tell me things whenever.

Today marks eight months since his passing. Part of me can't believe it's been that long, while the other part feels like it's been much longer. I still have a text message thread from my dad. I go back and read it from time to time, even though it only consists of "Hey, missed you tonight. I'll try to call again tomorrow" and other texts like that. There are days where I think about him a lot, and others where I think of him only a few times here and there. But I do think of him every day. I miss him. I miss him so much. Every time McCartney does something funny, or new, or cute I think "oh I should record this to send to my dad" and my heart breaks a little knowing I can't. There have been a few times where I could really use some advice on how to handle a situation, and he's not there to call. Worst of all is missing his hugs. We had this thing ever since I was a little kid that we called "hug a bugs" and it was basically just a big bear hug. Even as an adult we would always say "can't wait to give you a hug a bug!" and I would love one of those right now.

I am grateful I got my dad for 24 years of my life, but I do wish I had more. Of course, everyone does. We all wish for more time with our loved ones. I'm grateful for the example he set for me by loving my mom and my family with all he had. Sure, he had his flaws and he didn't do everything perfectly. But for me, my dad was a great dad. I will miss him until I get to see him again. Until then, I'll cherish the memories I have of him and hold on to love he had for me.

-Allison S. Dahl

The Stay at Home Life is the Life For Me

Hello again readers! Once again, ample amounts of time has passed since I last wrote. I guess that's my new norm.

One thing I didn't mention in my last blog is that while I was pregnant, Lucas and I decided that I would be a stay-at-home-mom. We did the math, and it turned out I would be working to pay for daycare. It didn't make much sense to go back to work just so someone else could watch my baby. Don't get me wrong, I loved my job, but the idea of leaving my baby didn't sound worth it. So I worked up until 10 days before she was born, and then that was it! I was no longer employed.

At first it was really surreal. The baby came and took most of my attention, but I kept having thoughts like, "ok just one more week, then back to work" or "I wonder if my boss will let me extend my time off" and even "she better start sleeping at night because I have to get up early for work". I would constantly have to remind myself I indeed was not going back to work. I suppose that's normal since I had been in the working world for eight years. It was really hard to fathom that my new job consisted of a 24/7 schedule with no time off, no benefits, and no paycheck. It also meant, though, that I didn't have to worry about hours or asking to have doctor's appointments off. I could schedule anything for McCartney at any time! I could stay up with McCartney and then get to snuggle and sleep in with her the next morning. It was really weird at first, but I got used to it.

With the joys of staying home, there are also the downsides. I think the hardest thing about being a stay-at-home mom is the lack of adult interactions. I'm sure you've heard that many times from other moms who stay home, but I really didn't think it would be as big of a deal as it is. It can be really challenging sometimes when the only other adult you see is your husband. Sometimes I feel bad for Lucas, because he'll come home and I'll just chat his ear off since I haven't had the chance to talk all day. I've tried a few times to talk to McCartney, you know, outside the normal baby babble, and it hasn't really caught on. Thus, I save all my thoughts during the day for a nice spout that Lucas gets to endure once he comes home. He's a really good sport though, and claims he's fine with it.

Another challenge with staying at home is that I often feel I am not contributing enough. This mainly comes from the fact that McCartney (my new boss) doesn't pay me in American currency. We have a snuggle and kisses deal worked out, so I can't complain too much. Anyway, it's a struggle for me to not be helping financially. When Lucas and I first moved to Las Vegas, my job was the breadwinner. He was going to school and working at school, and I was working, so the money I earned was what was helping us most. I guess there's a sense of pride in that. Then when he got his current job, and it became a team effort, I still felt the sense of pulling my own weight. I know that caring for a child is extremely challenging and is definitely helping our household, but there are times I have to remind myself it's ok I'm not bringing home a paycheck. I think this is another thing that time will have to help me get used to.

Now that I've made staying at home sound like a bummer, let me tell you the good things. I get to spend all day with my sweet McCartney. I was there for her first smile, her first giggle, the first time she rolled over, the first time she signed back to me, and all her other first milestones. I'm the one she wants when she's scared, nervous, happy, sad, excited, or really any emotion. I get to just hold her while she's sleeping and enjoy the silence and listen to her tiny little breaths going in and out. I get to spend every moment taking care of the sweet girl God gave me. I suppose I can trade adult interactions and money for that ;) In all seriousness though, staying home has been the greatest blessing to our family. I consider myself extremely lucky that Lucas and I were able to work out this arrangement.

Speaking of Lucas, I am so proud of him. He is an excellent father, an honor student (each and every semester!), and a valued employee (his bosses love him). I sometimes sit back and am amazed I landed such a wonderful husband. He takes time to make sure I feel appreciated and noticed. He always takes care of me when I forget to do so myself. He helps with McCartney when he can tell that we've had a "day". I'm so grateful for him and the wonderful man he is. I know always gush about him, but man, how could I not?!

Well, that is my sum-up of being a Stay at Home Mom. There's much more to it than what I've written of course, but my post is just mainly the big things that have stood out to me so far.

I'm happy to say I have another post pending!! I'm not sure when I'll post it, but probably before March :)

Thank you again for reading, your views always mean so much to me!

-Allison S. Dahl

Long Time, No Read

Hello abandoned (once again) blog! I'm sorry to those of you who actually read my posts that I left for a while. In my defense, I did say that I was going to be off the blogging world for a bit. This isn't to say I'm necessarily returning so to speak, but just giving you all an update.

Well,  May 25th, 2016, I discovered I was pregnant! Lucas was out walking our dog we used to have, and when he came back in I told him the news with a onsie that said "I love my daddy". I was pretty nervous and just wanted the first 13 weeks to pass so I could know we would have a healthy baby. Even so, we were both excited for the long awaited news. The pregnancy went very well, even though the first trimester consisted of me throwing up daily and always feeling nauseated. On September 6th, 2016 we found out our bundle of joy would be a girl! I was definitely surprised because I was certain she was a boy. This pregnancy was vastly different than my first, so I thought the only explanation was a different gender. After a few months of growing what felt like a miniature planet in my stomach, McCartney Lyn was finally born on January 31st, 2017. Oh man was she beautiful! She still is, but that moment I first saw her is one I will never forget. And let me just tell you, seeing Lucas's expression when he saw McCartney for the first time made me cry. How lucky I am to have this wonderful man by my side as we bring up this beautiful girl we've been blessed with.

I'm assuming most of you have read my adoption story, (which if you're still following my blog--props to you) so I wanted to share how vastly different my second go around at being pregnant was. To state the obvious, my circumstances were pretty opposite from the first time. I had a loving husband, a baby was something we both wanted, and we put our trust in God that we would have a child at the right time. Those three things alone gave me the best nine months of my life. Lucas is so amazing, you guys. Like, you have no idea unless you've met him personally. He was literally at my beckon call any time I felt sick or uneasy. He put my socks on and tied my shoes for the last three months since reaching my feet was pretty challenging. He'd get me a glass of water after every time I ran to the bathroom to throw up. He made me lunches and brought them to my work, always consisting of things I had requested that morning. He massaged my feet if I asked him to, and he even sat down and did the online baby registry with me. Now, these things might sound standard or not really that big of a deal, but to me they were huge. I appreciated so much how Lucas took care of me and our soon-to-be baby. I think if I hadn't gone through the heart wrenching process of placing a baby by myself, I most definitely would not appreciate Lucas and his efforts as much as I did. He is such a stand up guy, though, so I'd be pretty pathetic not to appreciate him either way. ;)

Another thing that going through my first pregnancy taught me was not to complain. Ok, yes I did get pretty antsy the last few weeks of my pregnancy and wanted to just hold my stinking baby already, but in the first few months--I was grateful. I didn't mind losing my stomach constantly. I was ok feeling nauseous all of the time. I knew it was worth it, and that being pregnant is such a beautiful thing that should not be taken for granted. I thanked Heavenly Father in each of my prayers for blessing us with this opportunity. I know many women will tell you being pregnant is the worst and it is miserable, but I am not one of those. Yes, there are many uncomfortable nights and days. There are times you just cry because false labor tricked you again. But I would not trade it for anything. And holding your precious baby for the first time is something I could never put words to. Plus, seeing the man who helped you through it all sit and gaze upon his new little daughter is simply bliss. It truly is a miracle and such a wonderful experience.

I feel like I owe my experience of being single and pregnant a huge 'thank you'. And I owe the couple who adopted my baby an even bigger 'thank you'. Because of that situation, I was able to get everything I've always wanted. Because of that heartache and pain, I was able to appreciate the beauty of having my own child with my husband. I look at my life now and simply smile. This is what all that hell I went through was for. And let me tell you, it's so worth it. I would not change a single detail. My first daughter has a wonderful family and has every opportunity that I could not give her at the time. My second daughter has a mom and a dad that love her so much and can give her the life she deserves, and I am very proud to say I am that mom. This time I can give my sweet McCartney every shot at life she wants to take. She has a dad that is already wrapped around her finger, and has been since he found out about her. So, thank you Holly and Oley for loving Adelé and giving her everything she ever needed and deserved. Thank you broken path that lead me to adoption. And I thank my Heavenly Father for changing my stubborn mind that night several years ago in my bishop's office. I began turning my life around and was able to meet Lucas at the right time. Now, here we are with our own sweet little angel and I thank Him every day for all of it.

As per usual, my "update" turned into a gush of my life story, but hey, it's an update nonetheless. My life is pretty good right now.  I'll try to keep you posted ;)

-Allison S. Dahl

Problematic Resolution

Run From That Past: Different Chapter

Hello Readers! I hope your Sunday is treating you well :)

I have some good news and some bad news. We'll start with the good news because it kinda has to do with the bad news...if that makes any sense.

I've started working on a book! Now, I don't know any publishers or anything, so I honestly don't know where it will go once I finish it, but I've decided to do it anyway. I've been told by people close to me that I should write a book and now I'm going to :) 

The bad news is that means my time invested in writing will go to the book, and not necessarily the blog :( I'll still have posts to share and poems etc, but it won't be as regular as it has been. I realize that I do this every time I start a scheduled posting...but I really want to complete a full book! So I had to make some sacrifices. Like I said, I'll still post on here every now and then.

To those of you who have always kept up on my blog and have read it, thank you!! Your views mean more than you know :) I really appreciate the support. This has been a fun "series" to do and write and has really helped me deal with some real life challenges. Thank you for being a great outlet to me, and I'm excited for my new writing adventure. 

I guess this blog is going back to what it was before the "series", so not abandoned!! 

Until next post!

-Allison S. Dahl

RFTP: I Stayed with the LDS Church, and Here's Why

So, lately I have been seeing a lot of leaving-the-LDS-church articles circulating the internet. Each one is a personal story of someone who decided to leave the faith, and they always include a lengthy explanation as to why. Well, I decided that I too will join this, but from the opposite side. Here is why I choose to be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and why I will always stay.

First, I don't go to church for the people. I have met a lot of close friends in my church, yes, but they aren't the basis of my testimony. I go to church because of the spirit I feel there. I also enjoy learning about the Bible and the Book of Mormon. I believe everyone is entitled to their own opinions, but I don't let that affect how I feel about God. If someone says something that offends me at church, I choose to let it roll off my shoulder. I'm not there to win approval or make sure I meet someone else's standards. I am there to take three hours out of my week to feel closer to Heavenly Father and my Savior. Church has always been a safe place for me, and a place to feel loved. I can learn and help my own testimony grow by listening to the quiet promptings of the Holy Ghost and the lessons taught there. Church was never meant to be a social get together. As soon as we make it such, we will notice our testimonies weaken.

Secondly, I love the church because it offers me something no one else can: forever. I can be with Lucas for the rest of time and all eternity. We can go to the temple together and feel peace that no other place can bring us. I know what happens there is real and sacred, and definitely not made up. I love going to the temple and each time, it makes me want to be a better person. It also strengthens my faith and I know I am going to the right church.

Next, I believe in the prophet Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. I know he didn't make up the book. I know they are true stories of things that happened long ago. I know Joseph Smith saw Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, and was therefore able to restore the Gospel. Joseph Smith suffered a great deal for the things he was bringing forth, and I know he wouldn't have if it were all a lie. He sacrificed everything for this church, and I am so grateful he did. I also sustain our current prophet, Thomas S. Monson. I know he and the other leaders of our church are called of God and are loving, honest, and devoted men.

With all of these things, the last reason I will always be a Latter-Day Saint is because I simply know this church is true. All of the teachings, all of the doctrine, everything...I just know it is true. I have been to some pretty dark places in life, and the one thing that has always remained constant is my Savior. He has never let me down, even when I repeatedly let Him down. Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ never forgot about me, and their love lifted me when I couldn't stand on my own. There is no way I would have been able to get through some of my trials without Them. Even now, I know that Heavenly Father and my Savior are watching out for us. We feel it everyday. Through the Atonement, I was able to be made whole again. I was able to be forgiven of my sins, and one day I can return to live with my Heavenly Father.

I am proud to be a member of this church. I am proud that my husband is a worthy Priesthood holder, and I am so grateful we got married for time and all eternity. I know this church is true and I will stay with the LDS church for the rest of forever.

-Allison S. Dahl

Run From That Past: Vacation

Hello Readers! I apologize for being a day late!! We are on vacation and were driving all day yesterday! Sorry!!

Well, I'll make this one short since I've got some relaxing to do ;) Basically I think vacations are a necessity. Every once in a while you deserve some time off, and use that time to relax and enjoy the people or things you love! We drove to visit my grandparents, and we even brought our dog! It's been so fun to show Lucas all the things I grew up loving. Every summer when I was a kid, I would come here and spend two or three weeks with my grandparents. Even as I got older, I always made time to visit them. Now, I get to with Lucas and I just love it! I'm excited for our week here :)

Sorry this is so short, but make sure to take a vacation soon. You won't regret it!

-A. Dahl

Run From That Past: Mapped Out

Hello Readers! I hope your day has been treating you well :)

When I started this "blog series" idea, I wanted the main title to be something that tied in with what I was doing...which was running. I wanted it to be general enough that I could use it for every post, but meaningful enough that it wasn't just my thoughts while I ran. So I want to explain the main title in this post.

We all have some sort of past. Whether it's a lifestyle we lived, ways we treated other people, or things we did, we all have something that maybe makes us cringe when we think about it. I know I certainly do. There was a point during my pregnancy with Adelé that I got a little fed up with the cringing. I was tired of thinking "what if..." and "I should have..." so I decided to accept my past. I accepted the things I had done and was willing to move on from it, without regretting it so deeply. After I went through placement and all the pain that entailed, I learned that living with my past was only going to hurt me. Yes I had moved on, but I wasn't forgiving myself or truly letting it all go. I would still admit to things to people who didn't need to know about my actions. I don't know if it was because I felt obligated to share, or if I was still holding onto it, but I was still living in those memories. Finally it hit me. In order to move on completely, I needed to forgive myself. It was a challenge that I knew would be extremely difficult, but needed to be done.

As I started my running down here in Vegas, I realized thoughts would come that I hadn't thought about in years. These memories of living in Salt Lake (where Adelé came to be) didn't have the same negative impact they used to. Now, it was as if I was going over lessons I had already learned, and I was grateful to have learned what I did. So that's when this title came about: Run From That Past. We all have one, it's just whether or not we let it haunt us. For me, it's best I just don't think about it. I've accepted it changed me into a better person and I don't need to be that girl ever again. For some people, the reminder helps them avoid repeating mistakes. What ever it may be for you, just know you don't have to hold your mistakes over your head until you die. You can accept them, and forgive yourself. You'll find yourself a much happier person once you do.

I don't run from my past, I run from the version of my past that can harm my present and future. Instead, I run with the version that helps me realize I can achieve anything I want, because if I made it through that, well, then I can make it through anything. :)

Have a lovely couple of weeks!

-A. Dahl

Run From That Past: The Apology Who Could

While I am still working on making more animated/video type posts, I figured just a regular written one will do for today.

A few months ago, I saw a meme on Facebook that said "Sometimes You Have to Accept an Apology You Never Received". At first, I rolled my eyes. I thought it was a dumb meme that was probably a disguised jab at one of the posters friends. After a while though, the thought stuck with me. I realized it could mean something deeper than just a double-loaded meme.

In life, we get in fights with those we love. However the fight may come, it's the ones closest to us that can hurt us the most. In turn, we hurt those we are closest to as well. It's kind of amazing what a simple apology can do. The apologies that were short and sweet are the ones that have always had the biggest impact on me. A simple "I'm really sorry" can go a very long way. But what about the times you don't get an apology? What about the situations where you got hurt and the person on the other end didn't seem to care? Well, that's where this silly meme plays in.

In my mind, there are two reasons why someone wouldn't say sorry. The first, being the obvious one, is they don't think they are in the wrong. They feel they did what was in everyone's best interest and there is absolutely no reason for them to be sorry. I know I have been that person before, and I am certain I should've just swallowed my pride and said sorry. And meant it. The second is that the person simply isn't sorry. They know what they said or did hurt, but they felt that they had every right to do or say it, so they aren't sorry. How are you supposed to work with that?

I think the meme is trying to say that you just need to move on. Sometimes we get hurt, sometimes quite badly, and the person who hurt us isn't going to fess up. They aren't going to feel bad, and that will make you angry. Accepting an apology you never received is more than pretending the person said sorry. It's realizing you have no control over their actions and you just need to forgive them anyway. And then forget the situation and carry on. If you hold on to these situations or fights, in the end you are the only one hurting. Chances are they moved on, and so should you.

I've had a difficult time realizing this in my own life. I realize I need to be more apologetic and forgiving, and move on from the situations that cut me. It can be hard, but where there's a will, there's a way. Plus, time heals a lot of wounds, so more often than not, patience is what we need most.

We all have control over our own actions and our own feelings. Even though it make take time and may be painfully challenging, we can let go of the negative feelings towards those who hurt us. We can accept the apologies we never got, and forgive those who aren't sorry. Maybe we can also say sorry a little more, be kinder more often, and go back and apologize to those we've wounded. There's no need to hold onto to things longer than the thing actually lasted. Moving on can be freeing and bring a better joy than we thought it could. I know it has for me.

Well, I know this is short but I hope it made ya think just a little ;)

-Allison S. Dahl

Run From That Past: My Generation

When I originally wrote this, I wasn't sure who I meant by this specific group of people. After a few weeks, I decided the "generation" I place myself in (and the ones I describe in this post) are people who graduated (or were meant to graduate) high school between the years of 2008 and 2012. So, if you got your High School Diploma in 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, or 2012, this post is for you :) Enjoy!

To The Generation Labelers:

Good day, ladies and gents. I have some words for you.

When I was younger, I was told my generation was labeled the “Millennia’s Children” or something to that effect.

Then, it was Doomsday Survivors, Mayan Calendar Conquer’s and, my personal favorite, The Raptured.

Well, with all of those set aside, now I am hearing the word “entitled”.

I have a list of E- words we are:

Excited

Empowered

Empty Vessels

Encouragers

Elite Few

Entertainers

Entrepreneurs 

Engaged in Life

Ever-Changing, consequently, Ever-Adapting

So, I will accept any of these words, but I will not accept entitled. I have nice things yes, but I have labored for them. 

I learned how to do laundry at age 9. My mother paid me $10/hr at this age to pay for school clothes, birthday presents, and so on. I purchased an iMac and HP printer in 2014 and had it paid off by early 2015. (Thanks to my dear husband’s help).

I drive a Corolla that was given, but then payments were burdened upon my parents. Now we tag team it in a sense. Luke and I pay car insurance and registration fees ($200/month for insurance, about $350 for the registration). While my parents make the monthly payments for the vehicle itself.

The only debt Lucas and I have is our credit card that we keep current. This is to establish credit history because we are quite young. Our parents help us with our health insurance because it gained them lots of money to take us off of their plans. At least for my parents, this was the case. His and my parents also tag team this cost 50/50.

In case you are wondering, I am a white female. Age 23. Born in Idaho, raised partially in Washington, then partially in Idaho again. I have lived in California, Utah, and Nevada as well. We pay our rent, and the only federal assistance we receive is Financial Aid from our University. I work part time (28 hours a week) and Lucas can only work 20 hours for the school. Both of these jobs are hourly. I went for the full time position at my job and was not selected.

Therefore, whoever you are, please, don’t ever. Ever. Refer to my generation as entitled. We are anything but. 

A. Dahl

New! Poem Segments

Hello! Here are a few poems. It will be called Poem Segments and will occur randomly between each bi-weekly post. (Run From that Past).

This is the first! I have brought on a fellow writer who helped me add the pictures. He hasn't established a pen name, so for now, we will call him Fellow Writer Friend. FWF :) He came up with the background to illustrate what my words painted in his mind. Enjoy.

Onward We Go

First, let me say THANK YOU!! I just hit 13,000 views. You guys ROCK. It's pretty surreal to see that number move up.

I am excited about my upcoming Run From That Past post here in a couple of weeks. Well..one week actually. Anyway, it'll be a surprise but let's just say it's going to have more pizazz than most of my other posts :) And, as promised, it will be light hearted. I'm not actually that funny, so hopefully you'll give me a couple of pity laughs. ;)

This blog will be short and sweet, but I just wanted to give a message of encouragement.

If you are having a hard life right now, keep your chin up. Keep smiling, and laugh, even if you don't want to. Someone out there loves you, and it's about time you love you. You deserve it. Yes, you.

Have a good week, and come back Sunday the 17th!

-Allison S. Dahl

Run From That Past: Lost in Time

I promise next time my post will be on a lighter topic! But for today's post, I am afraid it's quite the opposite.

I know several people who have been hit very hard with this issue. It's almost a silent killer and leaves us wondering why, and even worse, how could we have stopped it?

Suicide takes the lives of many, and we never can find complete understanding as to why. I think the hardest part is that there are so many "what if I had..." associated with suicide that can make the suffering ones crazy themselves.

Not too many people know this, but I had an uncle once. His name was David, and he was my mom's younger brother. It was just those two growing up, and according to my mother, they were pretty close. Shortly after my mom married my dad, and David was a senior in high school, he made the decision to take his life. No one saw it coming, and everyone wished they could rewind the time and convince him to change his mind. He was 17 years old and had a full life ahead of him. But something in his brain decided 17 years was enough time to live, and it was the end of his life path.

Well, fourteen years and five other children later, I came into the picture. I had two sets of grandparents even though my father's parents had passed, I had my mom's cousins who I considered aunts and uncles, and I had no reason to believe I wasn't loved by many. As I got older, I came to learn of David. Even though it had been decades since his death, I found myself wondering similar questions as those who knew him.

My dad had a half brother, but he and his wife never had children. So, that means I don't have any first cousins. This wasn't that big of a deal in Washington, but when we moved to Idaho when I was in high school, that was just another weird thing about me. I felt like everyone was related in Idaho, and I didn't even have a fist cousin to joke with about it.

In my teen year while I suffered with my mental illness, I often wondered about David. What was he like? Did he like football or chess? Was he into classical music or the Beatles? Did he like Chinese food like me? Would we have been close had he stayed alive? Where would he live now? What would be his career? How many children would he and his wife have? Would he ever have even gotten married?

The questions grew into a heartbreaking list. Even though I never knew him, I always saw the pain in my mother's eyes when his name was brought up. I could feel the loss of someone who was very much loved. This pain often stopped me from making a similar choice, so I suppose that may be the only thing that can be viewed as semi-positive about his death. I am certain there are other things that could've stopped me though, so I most certainly don't view David's death as necessary.

After I had graduated high school, and was moving on into my own adult life, I found myself missing someone I didn't know. I thought about David more frequently and even found myself growing angry towards him. Why would he do such a thing? What possessed him into thinking he needed to die? Didn't realize what a permanent decision that was? What about his mother? Didn't he worry about hurting her, or even hurting his father? Why didn't he tell them he was sad? Why didn't he get scared and just breakdown and tell his mom? Why?

Adding to the much-too-long list of questions, I found myself realizing I wouldn't receive answers any time soon. I decided being angry wasn't helping anyone, in fact it was just hurting myself. I needed to find peace though. Over the years, my mom has become a little bit more open about it with us, her children. I can't even fathom how hard that would be. I personally haven't lost anyone I knew and associated with on a daily basis to death. I know one day it will happen, but I hope it's not for a very long time. I can't imagine how hard it was for my mom and grandparents. He was so young, and left much too soon. No mother should have to bury her baby, and how awful that my grandmother had to.

Now, as I'm married and building our lives and careers, I can't help but miss the uncle I never knew. There are times when I feel like we would've been close. I probably would talk to him the way I talk to my older brother. We'd probably meet up for lunches if he lived nearby, and if he didn't, Lucas and I would go visit him. He'd probably have a few children of his own and we'd have more family reunions. The list goes on of what could have been.

The nice thing about my religion is we do indeed believe in an after life. I know that has given me much comfort when it comes to David. I firmly believe I will get to meet him one day, and I will have some questions answered. He probably won't be able to answer all of them, because I think even he would question why he did it. I look forward to the next life when I can see that we can be close, and I can say I have an uncle.

Suicide is such a complicated thing. One of my church leaders said that someone who does that isn't in their right mind when they do it, so they can't be judged for taking a life. I still wish David had stayed. I wish he had found a reason to not end his own life. I suppose it taught his family, including myself, many things, but I feel those lessons could've been learned many other ways. It might sound strange to miss someone you've never met, but I do. I do miss David.

If you ever feel like life isn't for you anymore, just remember it gets better. Think of your family, friends, and even colleagues. Even if you feel hated and that everyone would be better off without you, that simply isn't true. People will miss you for generations to come. Don't take your life, don't do that to the people that know you. You don't want to give them an entire list of questions you'll have to answer someday. If you're feeling that low, talk to someone. They even have a suicide hotline now. Call them. Anything to help you feel better and stop feeling like taking your life is the only answer.

If there's anything I want you to take from this post, it's that even after over 30 years of David's passing, he's still missed. He hasn't been forgotten. His mother and father remember him and still love him. They still wish they could hug him again. His sister still feels the pain every year that goes by. Yes, they all continued their lives, but they have been forever altered. Even David's nieces and nephews he never came to know miss him. So please, don't take your life. It may ease your burdens for a time, but those burdens don't simply disappear. They are put on your loved ones and they are left missing you miserably.

Thank you for reading, and I promise I'll write a happier post soon!

-Allison S. Dahl

Run From That Past: Continual Burden

With all of the random topics I’ve come up with, it’s been hard to choose which one I would start with. I decided this one would be best because it seems overdue.

Well, we all know how I am with being vulnerable. I mean, I’ve posted about my adoption, which was extremely personal. I shared about our miscarriage, which was something we didn’t even tell most of our family about right away. (Don’t worry, they knew before I posted that blog.) I’ve shared my opinions on sensitive/controversial topics. You get my point; I can be vulnerable online. And for whatever reason, it doesn’t bother me.

One particular topic I haven’t been super open about is my mental illness. I don’t know why, I used to be open about it in grade school. Maybe I was then because I had to explain my terrifying behavior with a ‘valid’ excuse. Once I left high school and the stigma that I was less because my brain didn’t function properly without medication behind, I guess I decided I was tired of people defining me by my brain. I know that sounds odd, but think about it. (Pun not intended)

Let me put this into perspective for you. Think of two random women. We’ll call one Mac and one Sariah. I don’t have any close female friends with those names, so it works for me ;)

Mac is super cool, guys. She’s hardworking, determined, honest, and always fashionable. Mac graduated high school AND college with a 4.0 GPA. Ok, well maybe it was a 3.8 or something, but she’s like..smart, you know? Picture Mac as someone who succeeds at what she does, and while all the other women are jealous, she’s pretty rockin’. Yeah Mac has her insecurities sometimes, but she’s fine. She handled life (it seems) pretty well so far, so there’s hardly anything she can fail at. It’s true that every month, Mac gets a little cray cray. But, all women do. And…yeah Mac has meltdowns in her office sometimes…but hey, she’s under a lot of stress. I mean, being that successful that quickly…anyone would melt under that kind of pressure. Mac is awesome. So awesome.

Alright, now let’s take a look at Sariah. Sariah is super nice, guys. She’s hardworking, determined, honest, and sometimes fashionable (on her good days). Sariah graduated high school AND college, which is super good for her!! Ok, well maybe I should explain. Sariah takes meds, which is fine, but she was crazy before she started taking pills everyday. Picture Sariah as someone who succeeds at what she does, but all the other women are watching her closely because of her life before medication. Yeah, she’s pretty ‘rocking’, but sometimes in all the wrong ways. Sariah has her insecurities sometimes, but she’s fine…now. She didn’t handle pubescent life very well. But after the hospital visits (whether the long or the short ones) she’s better. There’s hardly anything she can fail at, according to how she looks on paper. Every month, Sariah gets a little cray cray. Even more so than all women do. And…Sariah has meltdowns in her office sometimes…she blames it on her job like she’s under a lot of ‘stress’. I’m not one to judge, but if she couldn’t handle becoming that successful that quickly, she shouldn’t have gone for those degrees. Sariah melts under any kind of pressure. She’s so…fragile.

So those two examples are obviously about fictional people and fictional situations. But those situations are pretty common these days. I don’t exactly know why, but somehow people who take medicine for their brain are scarier than people who take medicine for their hearts, or any other vital part of the human body. I get that mental episodes are extremely challenging for those who are part of them in one way or another, but so is a heart attack. I’m pretty sure watching someone pass out because their blood sugar is too low is terrifying as well. But people with diabetes are just as accepted as someone with high cholesterol. Yeah, it sucks that these people have these life threatening issues, but we seem to be ok with them as people because at least they’re sane all the time around us. Yeah, our friend with heart issues might give out one day if they forget their medicine, but that’s ok, that doesn’t concern us. But our friend with depression, well that’s a different story. 

People, what is wrong with us?! Where did this stigma come from? I’ve obviously thought about it in depth, and the only answer I can come up with is that we naturally dislike things we don’t understand. I even catch myself doing this. For example, I’ll see a teen mom with a crying baby at the grocery store. She’ll be on her phone, looking tired and exhausted, trying to soothe the baby by absentmindedly handing the child a pacifier or treat. My immediate thought is “Man, she should’ve placed.” Why? Why do I automatically think that every teen mother should place her child for adoption? Is it just because I did? Is it because I knew I couldn’t be a single mom, so now suddenly I think no one younger than 20 should either? Is it because I’m jealous that I don’t know the feeling of a baby calling me ‘mommy’?  I’m to the point now where I’ll catch myself, and remind myself that I don’t know that woman’s life. I don’t know her story, and she’s made her decision that she felt was best for her and her baby. Then I move on to the next thought I have, which is usually “now which brand is cheaper, and is the WinCo butter better than Land of Lakes?”.

I guess the point I’m trying to make is that mental illness shouldn’t be viewed as this scary thing. Just because someone has a mental illness of any kind doesn’t mean we need to have a straight jacket on hand. Medicine for brains has this negative attachment that is, quite frankly, unrealistic. I used to day dream about the day I wouldn’t have to take pills, as if it were some burden to take them every day. Now, I day dream about the day they won’t cost so much, and hope that I’ll always have insurance. Taking medicine every day is the same as taking vitamins sometimes. Bodies work better when they have certain vitamins and minerals in them. My brain works a ton better when I take a specific medicine each night. How does that make me any different than someone who has to take medicine to regulate their blood pressure? Why do we feel that medicine is a weakness? I am so grateful to be alive in a time where that medicine is available to me. 

With all of that being said, here I am still hesitant to write specifically which illness I have. I can tell you why, though. I feel like people who know what my illness is are waiting for signals that I’m loosing it. It’s been pretty awesome to live in a place where no one has any idea I have an illness. Why? Because they view me for me, not me when I’m stable or unstable. They like me and see me as a fun bubbly person with a short fuse sometimes. They see someone who misses her family, but is trucking along anyway. They see a real person, not a ticking time bomb. Don’t get me wrong, there a ton of people who know about my mental illness, but still love me as though they didn’t know about it. There are just a handful in my adult life that feel like they need to walk on egg shells around me. I’m sure they have good reason, but that means I always double check what I’m saying or doing around them so I don’t give them a reason to worry. So now we both walk on egg shells around each other. It’s so…fragile ;)

So, tying this post back together, let’s talk about Mac and Sariah again. I tried to emphasize that they actually do very similar things. The only difference is Sariah takes medicine, so she therefore is watched more closely. Mac is given excuses for her irrationality because she’s ‘normal’ and doesn’t take any medication that we know of. I know that mental illness is starting to become more accepted, but why has it taken us so long? It’s sad to me that I still only see a handful of posts about it on Facebook. I see more vague please-feel-bad for me, subtle stabs at family members/friends, or look at how cute my face is today posts than I ever see posts about mental illness and the struggle. 

I remember when I was younger, I was under the impression I would grow out of my mental illness. Well, that was false. I’m still annoyed with my head sometimes, but I’ve accepted that my brain just doesn’t work right by itself. It’d be silly for someone with diabetes to reject any sort of insulin treatment, just as silly as it would be for me to stop taking my brain meds. 

So, if you take anything from this post, please be more understanding towards those in your life with an illness. Any kind of illness, including mental ones. Don’t view them as crazies who need to be locked away and sedated. View them as people who need your love and support. They already get enough crap from their own brains, they don’t need it from you.

Thanks for reading!

-Allison S. Dahl

A Hard Week

Beaten, worn down

Smiling, fight that frown

Rugged, need a break

Give, all they can take

Sleeping, peace at last

Slipping, time going too fast

Awaken, start all over

Sobbing, in the back corner

Lying, everything will be fine

Denying, it just takes time

Confused, feeling alone

Lost, don’t know where to go

Bruises, from worn out knees

Praying, Lord, Help me…Please

Quiet, lying awake

Soul, it’s Yours to take

Peace, finally arrives

Whisper, I hear you, you’re mine

Comfort, not forgotten

Love, somehow untrodden

Dreaming, of good things to come

Holding, onto unconditional love

Warmth, throughout my heart

Awaken, I get a fresh start.

-Allison S. Dahl