I talk a lot about faith. I talk a lot about honesty. I talk a lot about growth. I talk a lot about healing. I talk a lot about lessons; I wax poetic about how they relate to the horses.
Fact is there have been many lessons, as many lessons as there have been horses. Typically they have presented themselves with uncanny timing; this is not to say that I have always appreciated the timing, much less the lesson.
I suspect the biggest lesson is starting. It wasn't a lesson I'd have anticipated when I started this blog. When I started this blog it was about the growth they afforded me through quite a bit of loss; that still holds true.
A different type of loss came when I lost my job; subsequently bringing an end to a career that I spent nearly fifteen years building. It turned my life upside down in a way that found me rethinking everything I had previously hung my hat on. It shook my confidence in a way that I had never before experienced, the series of adjustments that followed did much the same.
I've climbed through the lessons, more times than not, holding a tail in one hand and a brush in the other. I have learned how to be quiet, I have learned how to be still. I've been shown a level of forgiveness that to this day blows me away. I've learned more about loving another being than I ever thought possible. I've also learned a bit more about grief, acceptance, pride, honestly, confidence, strength, and let us not forget fear.
My confidence slid backward with the loss of my job; really bad timing considering where I was with my "horsey confidence" back then. My confidence really took a hit when Patch died, I wrote and deleted "passed away" I'll muse over that a bit later I suppose. There was, and probably still is, somewhere in there, the belief that I don't deserve them because I went and let him die.
Enter Brody. Brody was in bad shape when he came to me. I was in horrible shape when he came to me. He's spent the last five months eating and hanging out in the pasture, well until recently when I moved him and Katie to the Ranch. They have been at the ranch for about two weeks now.
It's been hard for Brody, he didn't want to eat at first. God forbid Katie be anywhere but next to him, and relaxing was not happening. I was afraid to separate them because his health is, and has been, so fragile. That finally had to come to an end one day last week when I went to go get Katie. Brody and Katie were turned out together and all was well as Katie and I left the pasture with Brody still there. We got about half across the outdoor arena and here came Brody, having broke the fence to get to Katie (not me Katie).
They were separated that day, they had been in stalls right next to each other. He was devastated. He was shaking. He broke out in hives. He screamed. He was pretty inconsolable. I was pretty sure I was gonna lose it watching him, I didn't. We gave him some Quitex (I am sure I spelled that wrong but it is effectively Valerian root). He calmed down eventually that night.
It's hard to watch him be scared, and he is. It's hard to remember that this is all good for him and that I didn't make a bad "horse mom" decision for him even though he is doing so well. I was looking for a word the other night, on the phone with my mom, to describe his reaction to all this change when she suggested hyper-vigilant. Not surprising, she was dead on. Also not surprising is her using the same word when speaking about me (at times).
From Wikipedia:
Hypervigilance is an enhanced state of sensory sensitivity accompanied by an exaggerated intensity of behaviors whose purpose is to detect threats. Hypervigilance is also accompanied by a state of increased anxiety which can cause exhaustion. Other symptoms include: abnormally increased arousal, a high responsiveness to stimuli, and a constant scanning of the environment for threats.[1][2] Hypervigilance can be a symptom of posttraumatic stress disorder[3] and various types of anxiety disorder.
Fact is there have been many lessons, as many lessons as there have been horses. Typically they have presented themselves with uncanny timing; this is not to say that I have always appreciated the timing, much less the lesson.
I suspect the biggest lesson is starting. It wasn't a lesson I'd have anticipated when I started this blog. When I started this blog it was about the growth they afforded me through quite a bit of loss; that still holds true.
A different type of loss came when I lost my job; subsequently bringing an end to a career that I spent nearly fifteen years building. It turned my life upside down in a way that found me rethinking everything I had previously hung my hat on. It shook my confidence in a way that I had never before experienced, the series of adjustments that followed did much the same.
I've climbed through the lessons, more times than not, holding a tail in one hand and a brush in the other. I have learned how to be quiet, I have learned how to be still. I've been shown a level of forgiveness that to this day blows me away. I've learned more about loving another being than I ever thought possible. I've also learned a bit more about grief, acceptance, pride, honestly, confidence, strength, and let us not forget fear.
My confidence slid backward with the loss of my job; really bad timing considering where I was with my "horsey confidence" back then. My confidence really took a hit when Patch died, I wrote and deleted "passed away" I'll muse over that a bit later I suppose. There was, and probably still is, somewhere in there, the belief that I don't deserve them because I went and let him die.
Enter Brody. Brody was in bad shape when he came to me. I was in horrible shape when he came to me. He's spent the last five months eating and hanging out in the pasture, well until recently when I moved him and Katie to the Ranch. They have been at the ranch for about two weeks now.
It's been hard for Brody, he didn't want to eat at first. God forbid Katie be anywhere but next to him, and relaxing was not happening. I was afraid to separate them because his health is, and has been, so fragile. That finally had to come to an end one day last week when I went to go get Katie. Brody and Katie were turned out together and all was well as Katie and I left the pasture with Brody still there. We got about half across the outdoor arena and here came Brody, having broke the fence to get to Katie (not me Katie).
They were separated that day, they had been in stalls right next to each other. He was devastated. He was shaking. He broke out in hives. He screamed. He was pretty inconsolable. I was pretty sure I was gonna lose it watching him, I didn't. We gave him some Quitex (I am sure I spelled that wrong but it is effectively Valerian root). He calmed down eventually that night.
It's hard to watch him be scared, and he is. It's hard to remember that this is all good for him and that I didn't make a bad "horse mom" decision for him even though he is doing so well. I was looking for a word the other night, on the phone with my mom, to describe his reaction to all this change when she suggested hyper-vigilant. Not surprising, she was dead on. Also not surprising is her using the same word when speaking about me (at times).
From Wikipedia:
Hypervigilance is an enhanced state of sensory sensitivity accompanied by an exaggerated intensity of behaviors whose purpose is to detect threats. Hypervigilance is also accompanied by a state of increased anxiety which can cause exhaustion. Other symptoms include: abnormally increased arousal, a high responsiveness to stimuli, and a constant scanning of the environment for threats.[1][2] Hypervigilance can be a symptom of posttraumatic stress disorder[3] and various types of anxiety disorder.
Are we really surprised that I googled it for good measure?
The other night when Cathy and I worked with Brody, I watched him be scared and confused with what was being asked. I also watched him come out of it when he understood. I'm not going to qualify any of this with "we didn't do a lot, it was nothing spectacular, etc.." I do far too much of discounting progress, not tonight. It was huge for him and watching him I felt a huge swell of pride. Not for me, for him. To see him relax, to watch him get a glimpse of who he was, what he could do; it made my heart swell with pride.
I also related; I understood, understand, what it is like to flail about and hope to goodness you're doing the right thing. I get, got, the fear that comes with "Oh fuck is this (insert new experience after great trauma) gonna finally do me in". I watched him deal with that as Cathy followed him around the arena, gently trying to explain that no, the rope wasn't going to eat him.
Then she put the rope in my hand. Then I wondered if the rope was gonna eat me. Then I felt my hands shake with the fear that comes with no confidence. Then I realized that perhaps if he could be brave enough to face the rope, so could I.
