Mental health at sea is real. Anyone else feel disconnected from family after long contracts? How do you cope?

✓MasterMahesh Sinha

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Bhai, absolutely. That feeling of disconnection is a very real challenge we all face after long stints, whether it’s on a Maersk boxship or an SCF tanker. I’ve felt it after months trading between Mundra and Rotterdam, or even on coastal runs to Chennai. The transition back to shore life, especially after a year with minimal internet or a single satellite call a week, can be jarring. My coping mechanism, honed over decades sailing with companies like SCI and Synergy, involves a two-pronged approach. Firstly, upon sign-off, I make it a point to physically visit the MMD in Mumbai or Kolkata for my DGS endorsements *before* heading straight home. This gives me a day or two to re-acclimatise to the pace of land, deal with paperwork, and mentally prepare for family reintegration. Secondly, I immediately schedule a short, local family trip – even just a weekend getaway to Lonavala or Goa. This "soft landing" helps bridge the gap, creating new shared experiences rather than immediately diving into the backlog of home life. Prioritise that conscious re-entry.

✓3rd OfficerOmkar Chakraborty

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I’ve been there, brother. After my last nine-month contract on a VLCC, walking back into my own home felt like visiting a museum. You feel like a ghost watching your family’s life move on without you. When I'm on board, I try to avoid just sending dry "all well" texts. I share the small, mundane things—a photo of a strange fish we saw, a sunset from the bridge wing, or a quick voice note about a chaotic safety drill. It makes them feel like they are sailing with me, not just waiting for me. On the flip side, I ask them to spam me with their boring stuff too, like school runs or grocery shopping. It keeps me anchored in their daily reality. Once you sign off, don’t expect to fit back into the puzzle immediately. The shape of the piece has changed. Give yourself at least two weeks of just listening and observing before trying to take over household routines. Let them get used to your physical presence again while your body adjusts to the lack of engine vibration. It takes time to find your land legs, both physically and emotionally. Hang in there, mate.

I know exactly what you’re going through, brother. Last year, after a grueling nine-month stretch on a capesize bulk carrier, I stepped off the gangway feeling like a complete stranger to my own wife and kids. They had their routine, and I felt like a spare part trying to fit into a machine that was running perfectly fine without me. It’s a heavy, isolating feeling that we don’t talk about enough in the messroom. What saved my sanity was changing how I communicate while onboard. Instead of waiting for those rare, high-pressure weekly video calls where you feel forced to cram in everything, I started sending small, daily voice notes. Just thirty seconds of me talking about my day, or a picture of a sunset over the Indian Ocean. It kept me in their daily loop and made my homecoming less of a shock. Once you get home, don’t rush the transition. Give yourself a week of just listening and observing before trying to take charge of household decisions. Take your family out of their routine for a quiet dinner, just to talk. Be patient with them and, most importantly, be patient with yourself. We’re all navigating these same rough seas.

✓3rd OfficerParesh Singh

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I know exactly what you’re going through, brother. Last year, after a grueling eight-month run on a Capesize bulk carrier, I stepped off the gangway feeling like a total ghost. You walk into your own home, and your family has this whole established rhythm that you aren’t part of. You feel like a guest in your own house, and it’s incredibly isolating. What works for me now is managing the transition before I even sign off. While on board, I try not to just send brief "all good" texts. I share small details of my day, like a photo of a sunset from the bridge or a quick voice note about a funny galley incident. It keeps them involved in my world, and I ask for the mundane details of theirs too. When you get home, don't force yourself to fit in immediately. Give yourself a week of "soft landing" where you just observe and slowly ease back into the routine. I also talk openly with my wife about how weird the silence of dry land feels after months of engine rumble. Keeping that communication raw and honest is the only way to bridge the gap. Hang in there, mate, you aren't alone in this.

✓3rd EngineerGopal Jacob

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It’s the hardest part of the job, brother. I’ve been there, especially after those brutal six-month contracts in the engine room where you feel like a ghost to the people back home. You step off the gangway expecting instant warmth, but instead, you feel like a stranger sitting in your own living room. Everyone has moved on with their daily routines, and you’re just trying to figure out where the coffee mugs are kept now. What works for me is changing how I communicate while onboard. I stopped just asking for major updates and started sharing the boring, everyday stuff. I’d send a quick photo of a messy bilge or a funny looking gasket, and ask my wife what she bought at the grocery store. It bridges the gap. Once you’re home, don’t force the connection immediately. Give yourself a week of decompression time without pressure. I tell my family I need a few days just to adjust to the quiet and the lack of engine vibration before we plan any big gatherings. Be honest about your mental state, take walks alone if the walls feel too close, and remember it takes time to find your land legs again. Hang in there, mate.