You know how each family member has their “place” so to say? Each one carries their own set of values, skills, ideals, and purpose? I’m not referring to the kind of “place” like “women in the kitchen” type thing, heavens no, not at all. Simply the kind of place where someone simply fits.
We had that – until the oilfield came into our lives. Wait! Don’t attack me yet, I’m not saying this is a bad thing. Allow me to explain…
Prior to our oilfield lives we had a system. A husband/wife, partner-to-partner type system. I had my roles and tasks, and he had his. Simple. It wasn’t that we each demanded these roles, we simply fell into them as we lived and grew together. We knew what to expect. Bliss for my type-A personality (I know some of you out there know what I’m talking about).
Then, suddenly, enter my roughneck. Chaos erupted in my little world. Yes, I needed this to happen. I needed something to come into my life like a wrecking ball and create a havoc that I would need to find my way out of solo. I needed to grow up (and that I did!). We found a new way of living. We fell into new roles. I held together my end of our rope, and he his. Was it bliss? Nope. But, it was good enough for us! I’ve written about it before, our new (then) normal. We scratched traditions, we made new ones, and we lived totally out of the social “norm” of married life.
So, what about the now? Now that we’re in a new field a different wrecking ball has come into play and my world is, once again, upside-down. Our family puzzle pieces no longer fit, and it’s driving me insane! Sure, we still have our roles (after almost 6 years we’re set on those), but we’re learning (again) how to maneuver them and fit them into our lives. Gone is a two week on/off schedule. There is, literally, no schedule (as I pull my hair out). When work calls, he goes. Easy as that (no, complete opposite of easy).
Sometimes I feel like he’s my roommate. The kind that works all the time and comes home every now and then for some food. We struggle to have meals together, and outings are impossible when you’re waiting for the phone to ring. I’m not complaining, I’m stating that it’s different and difficult to find ourselves again. That’s what I’m trying to get to: we need to find ourselves and a new way of living (I won’t say “again”, although I want to).
I didn’t sign up to be an oilfield wife (until I did), and I didn’t sign up to be a conductor’s wife either (but I’m getting used to it), but I DID sign up to be HIS wife. We’re both making sacrifices, and we’re both doing our parts. Now it’s just a matter of turning the pieces until they all fit again. Our puzzle isn’t pretty right now, but I can’t wait to see it when it’s done!