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Public service has a quiet way of rearranging our friendships and relationships.
When I entered the civil service in 1993, I believed the hardest battles would be about policy, systems, or performance targets. I did not anticipate that one of the most personal costs of growth would be relational.
Over the years, I have lost friends.
Not always because of betrayal.
Not always because of conflict.
Sometimes simply because of direction.
I was once asked, “Who are your friends?” I answered without hesitation: quality over quantity. This may have sounded like a preference. Only in hindsight did I recognize it as a discipline quietly cultivated over the years.
Some friendships change for reasons that are easy to see. Others shift for reasons that are harder to name.
As I rose along the career ladder, something subtle changed. People began to look at me differently. It may be cultural. It may be institutional. It may simply be human.
Familiarity slowly turned into distance. Casual conversations became more measured. Some who once spoke freely began to weigh their words. Others assumed I had changed — when in truth, it was the role that had changed.
For a season, I questioned myself.
Did I say something wrong?
Did I unintentionally offend?
Did responsibility make me unapproachable?
There were moments I was harder on myself than necessary.
But time brings perspective.
Leadership alters relational equilibrium. Authority introduces perception. And perception — fair or not — quietly reshapes closeness.
There is also a quieter dynamic that unfolds in institutions: comparison.
In environments where opportunities are limited and responsibilities are visible, movement — even when earned — can create unintended tension. Promotions, expanded roles, or key assignments may prompt reflection in others about their own journeys.
Not all distance is rooted in disagreement. Sometimes it is rooted in comparison. Sometimes it is simply the natural human response to change.
Understanding this did not make the shifts painless. But it helped me carry them with less self-blame.
Minsan iniisip ko, “Ako ba ang nagbago?” Pero sa pagdaan ng panahon, naunawaan ko — hindi lang ito personal. May mga puwersang gumagalaw sa loob ng sistema. At kung mananatili kang totoo sa prinsipyo, may mga taong kusang lalayo — at may mga taong kusang lalapit.
There were also moments when words traveled faster than intentions. In any bureaucracy, narratives can take shape quietly. Interpretations are shared. Motives are assigned. And sometimes, before you even realize it, distance has already settled in.
It is rarely dramatic. More often, it is gradual.
There were colleagues I thought would understand more easily — people who had seen the long nights, the difficult calls, the intention behind decisions. And yet even they, at times, navigated their own pressures, alliances, and survival instincts.
That realization can sting. But it also matures you because public service has also given me friendships I would never have encountered otherwise.
Friendships forged in 10 p.m. crisis meetings.
Friendships strengthened during audit season — and in moments when scrutiny came without clear grounding.
Colleagues who sensed when support was needed — even when I hesitated to ask.
Professionals who chose integrity over convenience.
People who did not flatter — but fortified.
These relationships are built not merely on shared offices, but on shared values.
I have learned that in the civil service, friendships evolve alongside responsibility. The friendships we lose teach us clarity. The friendships we gain teach us courage.
Not everyone is meant to walk every season with us. Some are companions of proximity. Some are companions of purpose. A rare few are companions of principle — and those are the ones to treasure.
Public service is long. Reforms take years. Systems evolve. Leadership transitions come and go.
But character remains.
I no longer measure friendship by access or familiarity. I measure it by steadiness under pressure, by silence when gossip circulates, by presence when decisions are difficult.
Quality over quantity.
And perhaps this is the quiet truth behind it all: In public service, the work refines our policies — but it also refines our circle.
— Director Noreen
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