Untitled

by Ashley

I'm not sure I'm in the right frame of mind to be writing this week's post. I thought about offloading it onto the kids, but then, that felt like taking the easy way out. I'm always torn on how honest I should be on this blog, because mostly, people just want to know how things are going out here on our "adventure." But I'm also not good at conveying stories just to save face, so here are my honest thoughts, unedited. (Except for grammar, of course.)

I've written quite a bit on the ups and downs of teaching out here. I've written about how our family is adjusting to this rather different lifestyle. I've divulged a few of my thoughts and emotions through some of the anecdotes that have been gained in the village and the classroom. What I haven't gone into, in depth, is the level or specificity of my insecurities or deficiencies. Mostly, I haven't because frankly, I don't find them all that interesting. I assume they wouldn't be to anyone else either. And yet, they are on the forefront of my mind, so much so, that to write about anything else feels dishonest. I know we all have our mountains to climb, and in truth, even though I'm about to turn 42, I'm still trying to figure out mine. For years, I was in denial that I had any problems worth solving. Or maybe I was too young and immature to even know where to begin with my own psychoanalysis. Then, when Philip and I were first married, I was mad at the world and distrustful of it, blaming external things or people for the way I felt. Unfortunately, Philip bore the majority of that anger and distrust, and thank God he was stable enough to realize not to take it personally. Slowly, over the last almost 19 years of our marriage, through lots of prayers, intense arguments, exhaustive conversations, and extreme demonstrations of patience (on his part), I began to identify and tame many of the demons in my head, as we've come to call them. I won't go into detail where those demons came from, but suffice it to say, they are still alive and well.

Moving out here, away from most of the world, I had no illusions that any of those issues would magically resolve. No matter where you go, you can't get away from yourself. I had hoped that on the contrary, it would help expedite my resolve to overcome my deficiencies. And I suppose some of them are in fact being dealt with, pressure cooker style. But the worst ones, the ones that impact my husband and kids the most, are still dictating the version of my existence. It turns out that my fear still forms the basis of all my decisions. Rarely will I act outside of it. And it's the single largest barrier to forming some sort of balance in my life. My fear of failure...fear of disappointment...fear of abandonment...fear of not meeting others' expectations...fear of not being good enough; all have created this really absurd order of priorities that often leaves my family in a distant second place. Which is ironic, I know, because growing up, the thing I most desperately wanted was a happy and secure family. You would think that desire would keep them at the forefront of my mind, and that the time and attention devoted to them would be reflective of that. And yet, just like back home, most of my time and attention has been elsewhere, in this case, on my classroom. Philip not so subtly told me that even when I'm home, I'm still there. And I never realize just how much I get sucked in to that pattern. Looking at the roles I play, to date, I would have to say that I am an okay teacher, an okay mom, a subpar friend and a really terrible wife.

Growing up, I didn't have a model of marriage until funnily enough, I met Joe and Brenda, my husband's parents. My upbringing taught me that marriage didn't work, and that even though it was something a lot of people did, ultimately, you were expected to try on a few people, and if you were lucky, they might fit for a time. Like shoes. In my extended family line, divorce was common, almost expected. Suffice it to say, my own mother's background taught me that men were needy, and that you were better off without them. You can see how that might be a recipe for some pretty rocky early years of marriage for Philip and I. Again, fortunately, I actually picked someone who was more stubborn than I, with a hell of a lot more patience. For years, we've worked to dismantle mistruths in my mind, and replace them with healthy truths that honestly, feel pretty foreign to me at times. And during that time, there was hope that eventually it would all click, and I'd arrive in the land of maturity, being a whole person who finally understood her place in the world.

But now that we're almost two decades in, I've reached the point where every time the same demon pops up, or the same argument takes place, I'm becoming more convinced that I might never change. I don't want to believe that, because it's contrary to a very important concept that people can change, and that hope is always a good thing. "Love never fails," and all that that entails. The universe sort of falls apart if that isn't true. And yet...I'm still me. The same me that's responsible for so many bad decisions in my past. The same me who is still capable of making the most important person in my life feel so incredibly small and insignificant. The same me, who might in fact be a replica of the parents I so desperately wanted to be nothing like. Don't get me wrong, I loved my mother. She did a lot for me to prove how much she loved me, and her demons were much larger than mine. It's the whole negative cycle that so many families live through, from one generation to the next. The "sins of the father" become the sins of the child, if it isn't broken. And man, I'd like to believe I can.

I'm sure I'll regret sending these thoughts into the void as soon as I hit publish. Even now, I'm thinking about deleting it all, and just sharing more anecdotes from school. But right now, I'd feel like a fraud if I did that. Because the truth is, I don't have much of anything figured out. Who am I to talk about anything with confidence? I know I'll live to fight another day. And I'll always try to do what's right. But my faith in that wholesome future is shaken. For so long, I was so focused on not trusting the world around me, that I didn't realize the more impactful problem is that I don't trust myself. Deep down, I believe that I am a selfish, weak individual, and in reality, I'm not that far removed from the students with which I work. It's a tough battle, fighting yourself, and the casualties are usually the ones who love you the most. But when you're spiraling down, it's so hard to find a foothold. There's something calming about giving in to the vices.

I suppose in order to not end on what sounds like a very dismal note, I will say that Avery survived and thrived on her first major trip away from the family. She enjoyed a week in Anchorage, participating in a STEM camp with some of her fellow classmates. It's her story to tell though, so I'll let her write about it, for next week's post. Until then, I hope all of you back home are doing well in your respective arenas, and that you are able to find your balance, with those you love most.