Six months in Papua means sacrificing 183 days of chances to hang out with friends, which I miss most these days. I used to have the privilege of coping with stress by choosing whoever I wanted to spend time with. I’m not saying that I don’t have friends here. I always have. It just feels different when everything is only about work.
Ironically, I don’t know who to talk with about my feelings. Despite I got the best husband in the world to comfort me. But, the frustration feeling always come at midnight times in New Zealand, and it goes away in the morning.
I may be stressed out because of work. Because I am the slowest compared to other officers across the field office, and a process of something that I can’t say even is slower now because an important thing is happening, which I need to contribute as well. I am so dead. But, since I am a human being, I want to blame one factor, but that doesn’t help.
Other than my main job, to be someone’s beck and call in the post-pandemic of the 21st century is beautiful hard. It is an honour knowing that people trust you to speak up on behalf of their concerns, but I am not sure if I am happy or not. The more I ‘picked up calls’, the more I put myself vulnerable, and why do I want to do this again?
I wish I had a friend to talk with right now. I wish, I could tell how the paperwork kills my creativity. I wish, I could have an open mind argument about an efficient – respectful – family-friendly – modern concept of work.
I wish I had a non-related work friend to reset my brain. I miss everyone I know talking about life, sharing a strong opinion, laughing at my stupidity, riding the bike, talking about Paul, and just staying silently in the corner of a coffee shop.
Don’t get me wrong. I am grateful for the healthy working environment here. But I miss having so many options of friends to spend time with.