Posted by on Sep 26, 2013 in Blog, Ship Life | 0 comments

You think you’re an extrovert until you live in a metal box with 400 other people. You think you recharge around them, and maybe you do, but at some point you overdo it. There’s always someone who wants to hang out, always a new story to hear or a new ear to talk off, and suddenly you realize it’s almost curfew and you need to get back to the ship.

You go straight to bed, because for once you just can’t really handle socializing, and you reflect on the fact that something doesn’t feel quite right. In fact, you don’t really want to be around people any more. At least not tonight.

Well, you do, but you don’t. There’s this weird anxiety, because that’s the best word you can find for it even though “anxiety” brings up all the wrong imagery. Dissatisfaction? You realize you’re getting spread really thin, and there’s no apparent way to stop it. Not because you can’t say no to activities or individuals, you started doing that out of sheer necessity a while ago. In fact, you’ve been hiding a lot, now that you think about it. You actually avoid people.

That’s weird.

You’ve never avoided people before.


You do though, and you can’t seem to do it enough. And somehow, even though you’re successful at it sometimes, and you’re getting enough sleep (save for those occasions where you don’t), you’re feeling really tired. Maybe it’s your job, and the fact that your phone is pretty much always exploding with local contacts wanting something from you. Maybe it’s the 12 hour days you chalked up the week before that are finally hitting you. Maybe it’s that one person you said something to, and you realized only later how stupid what you said was.

You look around, and you think, “Am I going to make it eight more months?” You might even wonder what you got yourself into. This is a fleeting thought, you know, but it passes by nonetheless.

Then you wake up at 3am and can’t fall asleep, and you realize you didn’t blog on Wednesday. You sit down, you write a post in the strangest voice, and you distract yourself from the thousands of thoughts that are bombarding your poor brain in the dark. Maybe your roommate fell asleep with the light on and is snoring loudly… that actually has nothing to do with it for once.

What it comes down to is that there are a lot of really cool people around. People in town, people on your ship, people visiting for only a few days or weeks. There are lots of people you wish you could get to know better, delve deeper with, go swimming or have dinner with. You feel pretty much like you’ve got nothing left to share at the end of the day, and that just sucks, because you only wish you did.

You feel like you have to disengage to rest, but you don’t want to miss out. You feel kind of… well, trapped I guess. That’s a dramatic word for it though. And you feel kind of silly for it all, but there it is.