OFW loneliness: what helped Arnel through his nights in Dubai

Arnel's shift at a warehouse in Dubai ends at seven at night. By the time he boards the metro, the carriage is almost empty. He sits by the window, scrolls through photos of his kids, and watches the lights of the city slide past.

Back in Batangas it is eleven at night. His wife, Joan, is usually still awake. The kids are not. Most of their video calls happen like this: her face lit by the phone, her voice low so the children won't wake up, the electric fan humming behind her.

He has been abroad for four years. In that time he has missed four of his daughter's birthdays, his son's first day of school and his father's operation. He watched the birthday parties on video, singing along a second behind everyone else because of the lag.

He watched the birthday parties on video, singing along a second behind everyone else because of the lag.

"Okay lang ako dito," he tells Joan every night. He says it so often that he almost believes it. Then the call ends, the room in the shared accommodation goes quiet, and he lies on the top bunk staring at the ceiling.

From home, his life looked fine. He sent money every payday. He posted photos from the beach on his day off. Relatives called him the successful one.

Nobody saw the other side. The six men in his room worked different shifts, so someone was always sleeping and nobody really talked. His closest friend from his first year had gone home. He felt like a visitor in two places: a worker in Dubai and a voice on a phone in Batangas.

For Arnel, homesickness meant missing ordinary days. Hearing about the teacher his son disliked. Being there when the roof leaked. Eating sinigang that tasted right. Every "okay lang ako" widened the gap a little more, because his family only knew the version of him he chose to show.

He also felt guilty for feeling sad at all. He was there for his family. Complaining felt ungrateful, so he kept it in. On his rest days he mostly slept, and when he woke up, the loneliness was still there.

The change started with an honest call. One night Joan asked, "Kumusta ka talaga?" He paused too long, and she heard it. So he told her: he was lonely, he was tired, and he didn't know how many more years he could do this. She cried a little. Then she said, "Sana sinabi mo agad. Mag-asawa tayo."

Sana sinabi mo agad. Mag-asawa tayo.

After that, they changed how they talked. They kept one long call on his rest day, with the kids awake. During the week they sent voice messages about small things: what he ate for lunch, what the dog did, a song on the radio. The small messages made him feel part of their days again.

He looked for people too. A coworker from Pampanga invited him to a Filipino fellowship that met on Friday mornings, which is the weekend there. He almost stayed in bed. He went, sat at the back, and ate pancit with strangers who understood exactly what he meant when he said he missed the rain. Within a few weeks he had a small group that met to pray and eat together.

He gave his rest day a shape. Sleep in, call home, then a walk or a game of basketball, then fellowship. Having something to look forward to made the long weeks feel shorter.

He started talking to God on the train home, sometimes just one line. Isaiah 41:10 became his phone wallpaper, so he saw it every time he checked the time.

When the heaviness stayed for weeks, his fellowship leader suggested a counselor he could see online. Talking to someone trained helped Arnel sort out what he could change and what he simply had to grieve.

If you are reading this in a bunk bed, on a break or on a train far from home, the ache you feel makes sense. You love people who are a plane ride away. Missing them is part of loving them.

Try one thing this week. Tell one person at home how you really are. Find one Filipino group near you: a fellowship, a basketball game, a church. Send a voice message about something small.

If the loneliness has lasted more than two weeks, or it is making it hard to sleep, eat or work, talk to a doctor or counselor. Many can be reached online, and talking to one is a normal next step.

If you want a place to start tonight, HopeBegins is free and works wherever you are. Pick how you feel and get one small thing to try today, calming tools, someone to pray for you, and an e-coach you can message on Messenger. You can also read I feel alone for a few things that help on lonely days.