Monday, June 30, 2014 marked one full year on land after ships. It’s a day I honestly didn’t know if I would ever see.
One year ago I was completely overwhelmed. I had accepted a job on land, five hours from my family, and I had three weeks to put my new life together. It’s not an exaggeration to say I would spontaneously burst into tears while looking on Craigslist for apartments. Had I made the right choice? Who gives up a job working on a cruise ship? Would I be happy? Is this all just a giant mistake?
Those (and many, many more) are questions that I’ve faced everyday. This year has truly been one of the toughest of my life. I left a life I enjoyed, people I loved, and easy money for a job that was so challenging I walked in everyday wondering if it would be my last. I was alone and trying to build a new life in one of the largest cities in the nation. It was a struggle. For four years I could wake up at noon, spend some time on the beach, crank out a few hours work, then hang out with my friends. Now I got up at 6:00 am, commuted to work, sat in an office all day, and had no friends. What had I done?
I was constantly afraid. Could I figure out the transit system? Could I pay all these new bills I’d never had to pay before? Ultimately, would I be okay? Every second was an exercise in faith. I don’t give up easily and I recognized that this was a huge adjustment period in my life so I stuck it out. And I’m so glad I did. My life isn’t as easy as it was a year ago, but I’m not the same person I was back then. I needed to be challenged. I wanted to grow.
I wish I could say I’ve mastered this land life, but truth be told I’m still in a bit of shore-shock. Here are 10 things I’ve learned in 365 days this side of the shoreline:
- My apartment/office/grocery store isn’t rocking. You get used to everything moving. Just last night I opened my balcony blinds and the air-conditioning was making them sway. My brain still thinks the motion of the ship is doing that. Same with the hanger on the back of my bathroom door. The motion of me opening the door makes it move; not the motion of the room. Same goes for drinks. I don’t need to place it in the center of the table for fear the ship will rock and it will fall off. I don’t need to ensure that everything is tied off or anchored to something because I’m afraid it will move if we’re in a storm. In other news, I’m very well prepared for the next DC earthquake.
- Not all walls are made of metal. On the ship I hung up everything in my cabin with magnets. Doesn’t work in my apartment.
- You have to pay for lunch at work. The cafeteria is not the mess. Four years of free lunch have ended.
- The internet is addicting. There’s no free wifi at sea. Imagine a life with no constant Facebook and no smartphone. I’m now an iPhone toting, social media addict. And I kind of hate it.
- You don’t have to smile and say “Hello” to everyone. In fact it’s weird if you do. Weird on land; required as a crew member.
- Making friends is hard. Especially if you’re the weirdo saying “hello” to everyone. When you’re on a ship for seven months with roughly the same people, you see them everyday. You see them at their best. You see them at their worst. You celebrate Christmas together. You drink out of the champagne bottle on New Year’s Eve together. You are constantly together so you become friends. It doesn’t work like that out here. Trying to make friends is risky, vulnerable, and something that takes a tremendous amount of work.
- You can take food in to work or back to your apartment. You weren’t allowed to take leftovers on to the ship so I got used to either finishing my meal in a restaurant, or leaving part of it behind. I have found myself unnecessarily cleaning my plate because I thought I couldn’t take it with me more than once in the last year.
- Safety is less of a priority out here. It’s a top priority in the cruising industry now. Something I lived everyday and practiced at least once a week. But emergencies don’t come with code words. When I first heard sirens on land I expected to hear a code word announcement to tell me what was happening and if I needed to respond. It doesn’t work like that out here. Just get out of the way. Similarly there are no such things as “Safety Observations.” I had to report as many as 2 a week depending on the ship. But right now the guy in the office next to me has had a huge box in the hallway for weeks. If there was an emergency it would obstruct an escape route, but no one seems to care.
- Land people are sad. I never realized how happy ships were until I left. People come on a cruise expecting to have the time of their lives. And for the most part we, as the crew, were having the time of our lives. If you had a bad day you’d go to bed and wake up on a tropical island somewhere. Life was a grand adventure. I wish everyone here would lighten up and smile more.
- The sea still has my heart. I realized I was in love with water about 12 years ago. I have no idea why. Wherever I travel I try to find a body of water to walk along. I’m drawn to it. After 4 years at sea it became part of my identity. There are days where I just need see the ocean. I make the drive to coast, look out at the blue on blue horizon, breathe deeper and easier, and know that everything is okay. The tide still rises and falls. The waves still crash. The birds still sing. I’m still okay. I’m better than okay. I’m fully and truly alive. I made the right choice and I’ve got more to explore.
4 thoughts on “365 Days on Land”
Number 9 has a lot to do with numbers 5, 6, & 8.
It's true. The world would be a better place if people would choose to be happy.
I have also become addicted to social media. I remember the time when checking facebook was a special day! And don't even get me started on Twitter and YouTube!
So true! I force myself to take digital breaks. I hate being one of those people that can't just wait for something (elevator, train, crosswalk) without being on their phone. What could Facebook possibly have to tell me that's so important?