I lived the first 30 years of my life in Arizona. I love the desert. I like to joke that I have sand in my veins; I miss the enveloping warmth, the intense petrichor and violent thunderstorms, the spectacular sunsets, and the well-kept roads that stretch on into innumerable places to be and things to do. I don't miss the dimming of intelligence that accompanies large numbers of people packed into bustling cities, traffic, inner-city violence, or the annual TV News segment where some rookie correspondent incredulously fries an egg on the sidewalk. But it's where I was born and I learned to love it for what it was, much the same way that a child loves his or her belligerent drunk uncle: no one even pretends to like him, but he's family and he's worth the visit once in a while, if only for the $20 he gifts you every Christmas.
When I moved away in 2010, I was married with two small children. I was deeply in love with my husband. I was optimistic for our new family. I was ready for all the adventures life would bring. It was during the end of The Recession and jobs were hard to find, primarily teaching jobs, particularly teaching jobs in the arts. We were tired of where we were. We were both employed, but terribly unhappy. It seemed a perfect opportunity to feed our wanderlust and find a better life, so he applied everywhere. Dozens of applications were sent out all over the world. Only two prospects responded: a private school for underprivileged children in Hershey, Pennsylvania and a public boarding school in Sitka, Alaska.
We came to Sitka entirely sight-unseen. Neither of us had ever even set foot in the state. The job was accepted over the phone. It was our Great Adventure, so we blogged every step of the journey for posterity. It was terrifying and wonderful and liberating all at once.
But life does not simply sit in the stands and watch you play the game; life is an expert pitcher that specializes in curve balls. After 4 years in Sitka, our marriage ended. I had open heart surgery. The kids struggled to stabilize in this new family situation. I fought bout after bout of depression and wrestled with daily anxiety attacks. After having been a stay-at-home parent for so long, I had to reestablish myself in the workplace and learn to make a living all over again. With the help of amazing friends and a variety of medical professionals, I kept my head above water. I didn't just survive, I have thrived.
One thing I learned about myself over the last two years is that my mental and physical health is inextricably tied to the weather. Sunny days lift my spirits to incredible levels. My chronic pain subsides. I feel confident, active, productive. The more sunshine I get, the less frequently I get ill. By contrast, as the rainy days link together in their seemingly endless periods of dreary slog out here, I fall back into depression. No amount of exercise or activity seems to shake the oppressive greyness that blankets everything. I struggle to even get out of bed. I get sick with common viruses more easily. I simply can't function normally and become sad and bitter and lethargic.
And so, I must chase the sunshine to a new life, a healthier life.
Sitka has given a wonderful home for these 6 years. It's a good community, where I'm proud to have raised my children. I've made friends that will share in the rest of my life. I've had adventures beyond imagining in a landscape that is truly beyond compare. And I've grown here. I've become a whole person, someone who loves herself and her life in ways she never thought she could. I've earned respect from the people around me and I've developed a strong sense of self. These things are priceless and invaluable and I am so very grateful for all of it.
But the time has come for me to continue forward, to have new adventures and seek out the best possible environment for me and my children. This is why I'm moving to Florida. It's completely new and different and just... not Sitka. and not Arizona either. It's a new life to conquer and new people to know and a whole lot of sunshine to fill my days. On October 7, 2016, my plane will depart from Rocky Gutierrez International Airport in Sitka, Alaska for the very last time.
I'm ready.
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