24.

I am melancholy as can be, still.  I don’t know what it is, though I had a thought tonight.

I’ve been home a month, and, while I’ve come significantly closer to finding a job, I’m still not sure what’s next.  I get so excited when I come home, partially simply because I’m home and not offshore or in Louisiana, but also because there’s possibility.  There’s the chance that something new might come up, and there’s all this time in front of me.  But as the weeks progress, time starts to weigh on me.  I know it’s only a matter of time before the phone rings and my idyllic daily routine is shattered into a million tiny bits of waiting on decisions and making travel arrangements and packing bags and replenishing supplies.  And the feeling that there’s something else out there begins to wane, and it brings me down.  It’s also that, under it all, I’m a gypsy, and after a while, I want to be moving; hence, the SOD:

Jimmy Page & Robert Plant / Ramble On

The way I feel about offshore is confusing.  I like the job well enough, and it’s fun to putter, but there are so many rules, and the seclusion of being offshore for weeks at a time really wears a girl down after a while.  I’ve also come to realize that, even though I’m perfectly comfortable being a tiny minority offshore (as a woman), it’s very marginalizing. I’ll never be one of the guys (nor do I want to be!), so the guys tend to watch their behavior, and I’m not completely myself, so it’s this funny little dance we do.  And it’s a very, very lonely life.   I also just feel like an interloper.  I don’t feel like I’m supposed to be there.  It’s not because anyone has ever made me feel unwelcome- quite the opposite.  It’s just that I’m starting to look around and think, “WHAT am I DOING here??”  Because I’m not particularly good at the job, and I don’t have a ton of interest going forward to get better at it, simply because the necessary skill set has nothing really to do with any of my strengths.  I’m also a college-educated, well-read and well-traveled, 30-something female from Minnesota.  There’s just nothing organic about my presence on an oil rig.

But what do I do now?  I may just have burned my bridges with OII at this point.  And the door feels shut.  I just don’t want to try anymore, but where to go when there’s no clear path ahead?  I feel just untethered and directionless.  Like the control is out of my hands, and it’s not that I don’t trust something will present itself, it’s just scary not knowing what’s ahead.

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