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