Empress of the Seas Part 3: The Version I Almost Didn’t Want to Write

The Beginning of My Fall

Empress was beautiful to me. It still is. But if I am honest, Empress was also the place where I started falling apart. I did not know it at the time. I thought I was just living, working, surviving, having fun, making mistakes like everyone else. But looking back, I can see it clearly. I was not okay.

I was carrying things I did not know how to name. I was trusting people I should not have trusted. I was giving pieces of myself to situations that did not deserve me. And at the same time, I was acting like I had everything under control because that is what we do, right? We smile. We show up. We make the announcement. We host the event. We pretend.

But inside, something was cracking.

Karma Did Not Knock. It Kicked the Door Open.

This was the contract where I learned about betrayal. Real betrayal. The kind that makes you question if you were blind, stupid, too trusting, or all of the above. And maybe I was a little bit of everything.

I also learned about karma. And let me tell you, karma did not arrive politely. It did not send a warning email. It came straight for me and punched me where it hurt. The worst part is that, deep down, I knew I deserved at least part of it. Not everything. Not the cruelty. Not the lies. But the wake-up call? Yes. I needed that.

I needed life to stop me because I was not stopping myself. I needed something to make me look in the mirror and ask, “What are you doing? Why do you keep choosing this? Why do you keep confusing chaos with love, attention, or excitement?”

And yes, eventually, therapy entered the chat. Haha. But before that, I had to hit the wall a few more times because apparently learning the easy way was not my specialty.

Loving a Ship That Broke Something Open in Me

That is the complicated thing about Empress. I love that ship. I really do. I met incredible people there. I laughed there. I worked hard there. I felt proud there. I felt seen there. And then, in other moments, I felt completely alone.

Empress gave me some of the best memories of my ship life, but it also showed me sides of people that I wish I had never seen. People who smiled at me but were not really for me. People who wanted opportunities and knew how to act friendly when they needed something. People who probably had opinions about me before they ever really knew me.

And that hurt. I can pretend it didn’t, but it did. Especially because I was not perfect either. I was emotional. I was intense. I was probably difficult sometimes. But I cared. I cared about my job. I cared about my team. I cared about doing things right, even when my personal life was quietly becoming a disaster.

The Goodbye That Still Hurts a Little

When I left Empress in 2017, I left with a full heart. I remember the photos, the letters, the cards, the crew parties, the captain’s wedding in Key West, the little moments that probably looked ordinary to everyone else but still live somewhere in me.

I also remember the lies. That is the strange thing about memory. It does not separate the beautiful from the painful. It mixes everything together. One minute you are smiling at a picture, and the next minute your stomach remembers something your brain tried to move on from.

I went to Grandeur of the Seas after that, and I thought I was moving forward. In many ways, I was. I had another beautiful team. People were happy for me when I got the chance to step up as Cruise Director. I wanted to believe in that moment. I wanted to believe people when they said they were proud of me. I wanted to believe that support was real.

And then, once again, I learned that not everyone who says, “I’m here if you need anything,” actually means it.

The DJ Situation That Became Something Bigger

When I returned to Empress as a temporary Cruise Director, I was happy. Nervous, yes, but happy. It felt poetic to start there because I knew that ship almost with my eyes closed. I knew the spaces, the rhythm, the challenges, the audience. I thought, “Okay, I can do this.”

Then the DJ came onboard with no laptop, no music, no real preparation—nothing. And suddenly, what should have been a normal entertainment operation became a problem we had to fix immediately. The disco was a disaster. There is no softer way to say it. It was bad.

We were at sea. The internet was painfully slow. Downloading music was not realistic. So we did what ship people do: we improvised. We gathered whatever music we had, asked around, created temporary playlists, and tried to keep the show going because guests do not care about excuses. They just know if the party is dead.

When Asking for Help Backfired

My Hotel Director suggested reaching out to other ships for help, and because I still believed people meant what they said, I reached out through my Activities Manager. I remembered the Cruise Director who had told me before, “If you ever need anything, let me know.”

So I believed him. That was my mistake.

Instead of talking to me, he copied my shoreside boss and complained about the request. I remember reading that email and feeling embarrassed, angry, and small all at once. I was new in that temporary position. I was trying to solve a real problem. And somehow, asking for help became another lesson in humiliation.

My boss told me to solve it and not ask again. So I did what I always used to do: I swallowed the hit, then tried to explain myself privately to the person who had hurt me. Maybe I wanted him to understand. Maybe I wanted an apology. Maybe I wanted proof that I had not been stupid for trusting him.

He explained that DJs spend money and time building their music libraries, and I understood that. I really did. But I was not asking to take someone’s entire work. I needed help with a few songs, a few line dances, enough to survive until home port. I needed support, not judgment.

He kind of apologized, but something broke for me. I stopped talking to him. Maybe that was childish. Maybe it was self-protection. Maybe it was both. But after that, the relationship was never the same.

Ship People Always Find a Way

In the end, we found our solution onboard. A crew member from the Casino had music and knew how to play for the crew bar. He became our lifesaver. The Casino Manager let us borrow him for several nights, even though it meant being short one person. That is the part people outside ships sometimes do not understand: when things go wrong, the crew makes miracles out of duct tape, favors, and exhaustion.

Eventually, the DJ was replaced by someone who actually came prepared. The problem was solved. Empress survived, like she always did. But I walked away from that situation feeling like I had lost someone I respected. And that hurt because I admired him. I can still say that. He was talented. He was good at the job. But talent does not erase the way someone makes you feel when you are already trying to keep your head above water.

The Last Time Felt Different

I did return to Empress again after that, and that last time felt calmer. The Hotel Directors I worked with then were kind. They listened. They treated me differently. I received a better evaluation as Cruise Director and better recognition, and I remember thinking how different everything might have felt if I had worked with people like that during the longer, harder contract.

But life does not work that way. You do not always get the right support at the right time. Sometimes you get the lesson first, and the kindness later.

What I Know Now

Empress of the Seas was not just a ship for me. It was a mirror. It showed me my ambition, my strength, my talent, my heart—and also my mess, my wounds, my bad choices, and my desperate need to be loved, chosen, respected, or seen by the wrong people.

I met amazing people there. I also met people who taught me exactly who not to become. I learned that loyalty is not always loud. I learned that not everyone clapping for you is happy for you. I learned that sometimes the person who hurts you is not the villain of the story—they are just the person life uses to wake you up.

And I woke up. Not immediately. Not gracefully. But eventually, I did.

So yes, Empress was amazing. Empress was painful. Empress was love, laughter, gossip, betrayal, pride, humiliation, growth, and karma all wrapped into one tiny beautiful ship.

To everyone who loved me there, supported me there, protected me there, or even accidentally pushed me toward healing: thank you.

And Flavio, I still want my trash can back.

Love you all.