I Have Lived Most of My Life

Where I am today

I come to this class a thirty-something mother of two (with a third on the way) who has decided to pursue an education for a career in social work. I am happily married to a man who supports me in everything I do. I have a list of hobbies so long that I have to actually schedule time or plan projects so I get a chance to pursue all the things that bring me joy (time for hobbies is at a premium these days – see the above reference to my children). I have a genuine interest in helping people in the world and I want to work towards making a career out of that passion. I have a lot of optimism about a career in social work, despite having a limited ability to define exactly what a social worker does. I hope I have come to the right place to learn more.

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I have lived most of my life

I feel like I have lived a rich and meaningful life to this point. Reflecting on my accomplishments, struggles, and periods of stagnation is humbling. I have tried to see my shortcomings through a clear lens, only focusing on opportunities for self-improvement instead of rendering harsh judgment. I consider it a personal strength to identify the metaphorical rock in my shoe and make myself comfortable in almost every circumstance.

I can say that I have come to regret mostly the things which I have not done, rather than those I tried or failed. I’m not sure too many people regret their successes, but I will remain open to the possibility that this scenario exists somewhere in our complex universe.

Because I have done so much, and because we have been warned about rambling in our blog posts, I have created a list of some of the things I accomplished over the years.

Geographical Biography

I have lived my entire life in Alaska. I was born in Fairbanks and split my time between my mother and father’s houses during my upbringing. My parents divorced when I was about three years old, but I consider my childhood to be relatively stable. My father moved a few times for work, but my mom had primary custody and we lived in the Mat-Su Valley until I left the house at age 18. Summer and holiday visits to Dad’s house usually brought me to Fairbanks, but I also got to see Saint Mary’s (in the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta of Western Alaska) and Dillingham (in Southwest Alaska) during those years.

When I moved out, I spent a brief and unremarkable period in Anchorage. Then, in 2011, I moved to Fairbanks. I worked too much and I didn’t have a lot of money, but I managed to find fun and make friends. Fairbanks is where I met my husband and I will be forever grateful that it brought us together.

At the very beginning of 2015, my husband and I moved to Saint Mary’s. This village of roughly 500 people served as our home for almost three years. I grew a lot as a person during that time; the forced isolation and my separation from a difficult work environment allowed me foster a new sense of identity and self-worth. I experimented with fermentation – pickles, sourdough bread, and homemade yogurt. I learned what I lovingly think of as “depression-era survival skills” and I developed habits of sustainability. I stopped using paper towels because those things had to be shipped in, and that was expensive! I learned how to mend clothing because there were no clothing stores (and this was before the true heyday of online shopping/free shipping had begun). I cleaned everything with vinegar or baking soda. I grocery shopped with intention and meal-planned because there was nowhere to pop in for a quick meal at the end of a hard day. I learned to fillet and preserve silver salmon, pickle pike, and can grayling (yes, it can be done, just don’t freeze it first!). Our spare bedroom became a walk-in pantry and nearly 1/4 of the storage was comprised of home canning jars filled with anything and everything I could think to preserve.

If I thought I could, I would write a whole book about the time I spent on the Andreafsky River. The village of Saint Mary’s sits on a hillside that meets the Andreafsky at a steep angle, about a 10 minute boat ride from its confluence with the Yukon River. The Saint Mary’s harbor is small, but it sees more traffic in the summer than the airport 6 miles away. We bought a small open skiff with a jet motor and we spent nearly all our free time on that boat as long as the river wasn’t frozen over. We explored areas that felt untouched by other humans, although many locals harvested from the same grounds as we did. The area was just so vast that you rarely saw anybody else once you got away from the harbor.

After leaving Saint Mary’s, my husband and I moved to Cantwell. I was relieved to be back on the highway system because my fear of flying had become a seriously troublesome issue while out West. We still maintained most of the qualities of living remotely, but there was pavement leading in four different directions away from the junction that marks the center of the tiny drive-through town. I liked driving, and began consuming audiobooks at an alarming rate while on those drives. I started riding my bicycle and hiking for fun to pass the time as we tried and failed to have children. I taught myself how to cross-country ski on a whim when I acquired a used set of skis and boots for $50 on Facebook Marketplace. I joined an informal knitting group, a quilter’s guild, and volunteered at the local library. I didn’t harvest as much, but I still spent a lot of time outdoors. Exploring Denali National Park, the Denali Highway, and Denali State Park (these are three different places, for those of you unfamiliar with Alaska) were among the highlights of that region of the state for me.

It was during our time in Cantwell that we learned of my husband’s infertility. Idiopathic Azoospermia was the official diagnosis, and we could not say exactly when it started or why. All we knew was that we were unable to conceive children through any of the traditional means. We mourned the loss of our imagined future. We grew closer as a couple, and we began to investigate our other options. I had yearned to carry a baby and experience pregnancy. For this reason and others, adoption did not feel like a natural fit for us. We accept our own selfishness for that choice, but it is a choice that we agreed upon. We researched and deliberated for many months before deciding to use sperm donation to conceive. Never before had I been so afraid to make a decision, for fear that my choices would be wrong or cause harm to anyone. I can look at my children’s faces today and know that this was no mistake at all. We cherish them every day, and all the more for how long it took us to have them.

Finally, at the beginning of 2020, we had our first baby girl.

We moved back in Fairbanks in late 2020, and it was admittedly very novel and fun to be back in the “big city” after nearly 6 years of rural living. Some of the old survival habits became less useful, although plenty of them remained since 2020 was such a difficult year for the entire world. More difficulty was yet to come.

In the first days of January 2021, my husband discovered concerning symptoms that brought him to the Emergency Department at Fairbanks Memorial Hospital in the middle of a shift at work. Testing, referrals, and further diagnostic measures finally revealed that he had a large tumor near his kidney. It was testicular cancer. Our questions regarding his sudden loss of fertility no longer felt important but all the clues slid into place. As a side note, he was tested for cancer markers in his blood and screened in more invasive ways when diagnosed with infertility. The doctors didn’t fail us, he just wasn’t sick enough to be detectable back then.

I was so afraid I would lose my husband, but another complication was right around the corner. Two days after his diagnosis, we learned that we were expecting our second child – the IUI procedure worked on the first attempt, when our first daughter had required five. We had decided to try for a second child before his symptoms revealed themselves, and it was too late to take it back. Life felt terribly unfair, but we were practiced at navigating difficult medical news and did the only thing we could – we moved forward one step at a time. We fought through the worst days of chemotherapy hangovers and morning sickness together. We leaned on friends and professionals for help. Days went by and my husband got better while I got bigger. In October 2021 we welcomed our second daughter to the family and my husband passed the first of many routine scans confirming his cancer was gone.

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I know my path, but not my destination

I have lived through a great deal of medical struggles in my lifetime. Most of the diagnoses were given to my loved ones rather than to me personally, but that does not diminish the stress and anguish the events brought to my life. I see myself working in the field of medical social work, with a particular interest in oncology or postpartum care. I like to think that, one day, I will work in the mezzo level of social work, perhaps training or supervising social workers so they can help patients and their families navigate difficult encounters with the medical world. I know firsthand that support, education, and empowerment make a huge difference and I am passionate about delivering that kind of care.

A secondary part of my ambition is to be able to financially support my family after my husband retires from his first career. We will need medical coverage and regular income until we are old enough for retirement and Medicare. Our children are young and our financial needs will grow along with them, yet I do not expect my husband to bear the responsibility of keeping us fed, housed, clothed, and entertained all by himself for the duration. He is not the type to leave the workforce entirely after his first retirement, but his earning potential in less demanding fields will also be lower than it is now. I have toyed with various ideas over the past several years about what my career path will look like after our children are a little older. After much reflection, hesitation, doubt, inspiration, timely nudges from the universe, and a bit of blind faith in myself, I have decided to go all-in on my education to become a social worker.

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