Sometimes I really do question my place in the world. And I don’t just mean the whole “What am I doing with my life?” which is a statement that I have come to accept as being an integral part of my inner monologue, provided by the ‘terrible twenties’ period of my life.
I am starting to doubt every small decision I make. Every small detail.
And then comes the foreboding question: “Where the hell is this all going?” ‘Why do I care about anything?’
I have come to accept that the more I try to explore why I feel this way, the more ‘lost’ I really feel. It doesn’t matter if I have a cool job, or a cool partner, or cool friends, I just sometimes feel like I can’t explain why I feel just a little bit empty. And sometimes, I feel embarrassed to admit that.
When I finally took my cruise job seriously after signing another contract, pushing my writer’s ambitions into the void of my mind even further so, I began to contemplate it all.
There is a contradiction to working on a cruise ship; no matter how glamorous it looks online to strangers and neighbors, the real deal is that you are constantly moving, but you feel completely stuck.
The world passes you into small fragments, sunrises and sunsets occur so fast, it’s almost like it happens every hour of the day. It’s snippets of language you can’t quite understand, and checking the clock to see if it is time to finish work, yet again.
There is a rhythm that I can’t quite get myself adjusted to. The same faces, corridors, the expectation to leave all your fears and worries in your room, to face the people who expect so much from you whilst they are on their dream holiday.
Time blurs into a way that is so difficult to explain. The days of the week stop meaning anything, and going home becomes a moving target.
You wake up knowing that you have somewhere you always need to be, even if you don’t want to.
You can be surrounded by thousands of people, and still feel quietly alone. Because the connection on a ship is intense, but also fleeting. You meet people, bond with them, and suddenly they become part of your everyday life, silently slotting in. You see them more than your own parents or siblings, and they become a part of your personality.
Goodbyes are a huge part of the job description. Nothing is ever set the same, and you need to adapt to every new scenario, like your life truly depends on it.
Then there is the version of you that you become on board. The one smiling, even through exhausted eyes. The one who learns to be ‘on’ all the time, due to the job demands. You become first class at meeting needs and expectations.
But then, who are you when you are not performing? Where did the old version of me go?
The moment it hits the hardest, is the strangers who float with you, know your daily moves more than you do. The distance from home and unfamiliarity. The life you left behind, and what is going on around you.
I start to miss the little things that I once thought nothing of, the normality you so craved. You wanted this; now you have to accept the denial, confusion, and depression.
Yet there is something addictive about the life, the never-ending possibilities of not knowing the next step, and in the version of yourself in that suit of armor, you have taught yourself to be resilient, unique, and optimistic in times of utter chaos and despair.
Maybe the truth is, you are not as lost as you feel. You’re just in the middle of something that hasn’t made sense yet.
This was written by our contributing writer, Megan Evans.
Image Source: Pexels, Irwin Wang
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