Dear Wanda and Wayne,<\/p>\n
Six summers ago, I came to Alaska for a seasonal tourism job. After my second summer, I never left. I\u2019m 26 now, and it\u2019s August again, so almost everyone I work with is talking about where they\u2019re headed next \u2014 another tourism job, another adventure, another country \u2014 I quietly signed another year on my apartment lease. This is home now. I love Alaska, the mountains and the midnight sun, and I always look forward to seeing the wild little family that shows up in spring from every corner of the country and the world.<\/p>\n
Every summer starts the same. Familiar faces mixed with new ones. By mid-May we\u2019re hiking after work, chasing live music in Hope and Talkeetna, kayaking in Seward, and staying up way too late around bonfires below Kincaid Park feeling like life couldn\u2019t possibly get any better.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m the one people ask where to hike, where to eat and where to find housing (one usually becomes a roommate at my place). I organize adventures, give airport rides, lend out camping gear and occasionally have someone crashing on my couch, too. I genuinely love being that person. But then August arrives.<\/p>\n
The conversations shift. Someone\u2019s headed to Colorado to work a resort for ski season. Someone else is flying home to Germany. Couples get ready for road trips. Airport hugs become more frequent. Everyone promises to stay in touch, and for a little while they do. Then the group chats slowly die.<\/p>\n
The hardest part isn\u2019t even watching everyone leave. It\u2019s realizing they all seem to leave with someone or something waiting for them. A partner back home. Another new exotic destination to work or play. Another chapter in an endless book of travel. And I always leave summer as the good friend to most of them.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve had a few summer flings, but they always come with an expiration date and something like \u201cIf I wasn\u2019t leaving …\u201d or \u201cI don\u2019t want anything serious.\u201d After a few times of going through that, I stopped hoping the next one would be different and I know exactly what I\u2019m getting into or avoiding.<\/p>\n
Meanwhile, the few summer friends who eventually stayed in Alaska like me have also moved on. They found careers, got married and built year-round lives. Every fall I go back to waiting tables, house-sitting and dog-sitting until the next wave of seasonal workers arrives and life feels exciting again.<\/p>\n
Lately I\u2019ve started wondering if I\u2019m actually building a life here or just living in an emotional and seasonal Groundhog Day. Sometimes I\u2019m just afraid I\u2019ve spent four years becoming everyone\u2019s favorite Alaska memory while never really creating a year-round life of my own here.<\/p>\n
Wayne says:<\/p>\n
Now this is a funky situationship: You\u2019re not dating hot guys or girls, you\u2019re dating summer! And in Alaska, summer sizzles, but fall too hard and it will burn you, then disappear into darkness.<\/p>\n
You\u2019ve spent six years getting really good at emotionally investing in people who you know are going to leave. That\u2019s not a fatal flaw, but it is a pattern that sends you spiraling. It\u2019s also one of the reasons everyone gravitates to you, beyond your local status and shed full of loaner camping gear and kayaks. You\u2019re generous, adventurous and the Alaska ambassador everyone texts when they need something or think they\u2019re lost.<\/p>\n
But it\u2019s tough building permanent relationships in a temporary world. Every spring brings new co-workers, personalities and possibilities. Every fall brings tearful goodbyes and promises to keep in touch. That\u2019s the rhythm of seasonal work, and it\u2019s perfect for people who love it and live it to the max. For someone anchored down like you, though, of course you\u2019ll feel disappointed, depressed or heartbroken with the silent arrival of every fall.<\/p>\n
Meeting good people isn\u2019t your problem, and neither is enjoying summer friends and fun. But this offseason, invest that same energy into people who\u2019ll still be around in February. Reconnect with those old summer co-workers who stayed and got boring office jobs. Say yes when someone invites you over for chili or a reality TV binge. Heck, you\u2019re a server \u2014 join your brethren and become a regular somewhere! That\u2019s a super easy way to meet interesting people. Just start building a life that doesn\u2019t require a fresh batch of friends to pop up every May for you to feel full.<\/p>\n
Because I don\u2019t think you\u2019re looking for another unforgettable summer. I think you\u2019re finally ready for an unforgettable life.<\/p>\n
Wanda says:<\/p>\n
Summer is only three-ish months of the year, yet you\u2019ve built an enormous emotional life around a season that, by definition, is temporary. No wonder autumn feels like the floor falls out along with the leaves! <\/p>\n
The answer is not to stop loving summer. Clearly, you worship it and crave the seasonal community, adventure and memories. But ask yourself: Why are you so much more invested in making those three months extraordinary than you are in building a life you enjoy the rest of the year?<\/p>\n
There\u2019s also something here that feels a little like suspended adolescence. There\u2019s a wonderful period of young adulthood when life can be about adventure, seasonal jobs, roommates, new friends, cheap flights, summer romances and figuring out where you might go next. You\u2019ve gotten very good at that life. But it might be time to ask whether you\u2019re ready for the next chapter.<\/p>\n
That doesn\u2019t mean getting married, buying a house and becoming boring. It means deciding what you want your adult life to actually look like. A career you care about? A relationship that has a chance of lasting? Friends who know you in February, not just July? A community that isn\u2019t replaced every spring?<\/p>\n
Because what you\u2019re doing now sounds less like a year-round life you love and more like a long-term intermission you tolerate to simply enjoy a short film. You haven\u2019t wasted six years. You\u2019ve learned that you love Alaska, adventure and bringing people together. Now take everything you\u2019ve learned and build something more permanent with it. You don\u2019t have to give up the bonfires and kayaking. You just need a life that doesn\u2019t depend on them.<\/p>\n
[Wayne and Wanda: I love living in Alaska, but family group chats leave me feeling resentful and lonely<\/a>]<\/p>\n [Wayne and Wanda: Being dependable these days feels like I\u2019m on a lonely one-way street<\/a>]<\/p>\n