Wanda and Wayne,
My wife and I moved to Alaska four years ago for work and adventure, thinking we’d stay a couple of years and see how it felt. We fell hard for it almost immediately. But by our second winter, my wife started talking about how hard the cold and dark were on her, and every winter since that feeling has grown heavier.
This recent cold snap and snow dump really pushed things over the edge. She’s deeply unhappy right now, withdrawn, sad and openly talking about how depressing it feels to live here, especially being so far from family and old friends. She tries to manage it with running, yoga, the gym, but even those things she often does alone. She hasn’t really built a community here, partly because she’s introverted and partly because she sticks closely to her routines and her co-workers aren’t the very social. Meanwhile, I’ve found connections through work and the outdoors, especially skiing in the winter (cross country and touring, downhill, backcountry, all of it!), and Alaska still feels full of possibilities to me.
But now she’s done. She wants to move back “home” soon. She wants to start trying for kids within the next year and doesn’t feel like Alaska is the right place to raise a family. She worries about schools, politics, the economy and being so far from family support. We both have careers that could take us almost anywhere, as well as savings, and a house we could sell quickly, and many of the Alaska toys we could also sell. Logistically, it would be easy. Emotionally, I feel like I’m being told to leave after I just got settled.
There are places I still want to explore, trips I’ve been planning, seasons I want to experience differently now that we’re more established. I keep thinking: If we can just get through to summer, maybe she’ll feel better. But I don’t know if that’s hope or denial, and yeah, summer feels a long ways away and goes by pretty quickly. Honestly, now I’m starting to get bummed about the idea of leaving.
I love my wife and I don’t want her to be miserable. But I’m scared that if we leave now, I’ll resent her, and if we stay she’ll resent me. Is there a way to buy time without dragging this out painfully? Or is this one of those moments where love means choosing between two incompatible futures?
Wanda says:
If this was your first Cheechako winter here, or your second, I could write off your wife’s apprehension to culture shock or a sophomore slump. But this is year four, which means she’s endured winters of record snowfalls, weird snow shortfalls, terrible windstorms, bleak darkness and desolate below-zero temps. Sorry to say, but it’s likely there’s no number of laps at the Dome or downward dogs on the mat that will make her find the special beauty of an Alaska winter.
This place is tough. For every old-timer who jokes, “I came for two years and I’m still here,” there are plenty who maybe made it that long and bailed. While the state shines with possibilities, rugged beauty, unique traits and cool people, it’s also far from basically everything, pretty expensive and definitely extreme. Some people will thrive here. Some people won’t. No one’s better or worse, or wins or loses. Were you on your own, at a different point in life, you may have made your forever home here. But instead you pledged forever to your wife, and I’m afraid it’s time to start out on your next adventure — in the Lower 48.
Your wife gave this a real shot. She’s stayed four years. That’s four long — and for her, miserable — winters. It was also four seasons of no doubt incredible summers, full of fresh halibut and farmers markets and quirky festivals and blue skies at 11 p.m. If these special aspects of Alaska haven’t yet been enough to convince her the winters are worth it, they won’t ever be.
Wayne says:
Sure, your Alaska bucket list is still growing faster than you can check things off, but take it from a lifelong Alaskan: You’ll never do it all. People fall in love with this place in a million different ways. You and I? We believe there’s always another season of adventures ahead, another trail and another corner of the state to explore, and we’ll always feel some serious AK FOMO when we’re stuck at the office working while everyone else is ice skating on a perfect winter day or dipnetting during a hot salmon run.
Here’s the perspective shift you need. You love your wife. You’re committed to a happy life together. And by any reasonable measure, you’ve made the most of your four years here. So ask yourself this honestly: Is another spring of shredding pow in the Chugach more important than her mental health and your marriage? And why resent her for being ready for a new chapter after she showed up and gave Alaska a chance? When you frame it that way, “incompatible futures” sounds dramatic and “buying time” sounds selfish.
And Alaska isn’t going anywhere. You know that. It’s a flight or two away no matter where you end up Outside. Maintain your friendships, stay on the airline alerts, narrow your must-do list to the Alaska all-timers, and plan to come back regularly. And imagine this: years from now, bringing your kids here after years of telling them stories about the winters you survived and the mountains you climbed. That’s not losing Alaska, that’s carrying it with you wherever you go, along with your wife and your marriage.
[Wayne and Wanda: How can I support my partner’s hardcore New Year’s reset, even if it’s not for me?]
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[Wayne and Wanda: My girlfriend’s dog fostering has consumed her life and derailed our relationship]
[Wayne & Wanda: My husband has been having a secret, yearslong emotional affair]
