I'm not going to say that things are back to normal because, as much as I'd like to, they aren't. There's still an empty stall in the barn, still things hanging up in the tack room, still those moments where it feels like I'm going to walk down the aisle and everything is going to be the way it was a month ago, and I know the only thing that will change that is time, and that's okay.
I've been doing a lot of thinking recently (I know that's shocking coming from me) about why I've done all of this, about why I keep coming back every time I step away, whether the distance was my choice or due to something that I have no control over, about why horses and riding are something that are just a part of me no matter what I do, and I don't really know if I have an answer.
I had last weekend off from the barn because we had the regional meeting for my honor society on Friday and Saturday, and my trainer and best friend were at a show anyway, and this past week wasn't great. I've been sleep-deprived and school has been crushing me, but this past week was just a whole different type of weird. Things just felt off all week (and were exacerbated by a bad test grade, which I will survive because 150 credits leaves a bit of wiggle room on the grades thing) and I couldn't really figure out why until this weekend.
I'm bad enough at getting my work done when I'm at normal levels of stressed out. I have to sit down and make a to-do list and work very strategically so that I can get my work to a manageable level, and it takes a lot of willpower for me to do that. It gets worse when I'm so stressed out that I don't want to (or can't) do the things that I normally do. If I can't ride, play music, write, draw, whatever, whether it's because I don't have the time or I just can't find the inspiration in myself to do them, then I get worse. The stress becomes even more of a challenge because I don't feel like myself without those things. In middle school I was always the piano player and the weird horse girl, and while a lot of things have changed since then, those two pieces are very important parts of who I am.
I went out to the barn last night for my lesson because we had our end-of-year honor society brunch this morning, which wrecked the usual Saturday morning lesson thing, and I was half an hour early for when I needed to tack up, so I spent some time saying hi to Mina, who was very affectionate (unsurprising because she is a) on stall rest right now and b) I hadn't seen her in two weeks). A little while later, I told my trainer that I'd be able to attend the schooling show the first weekend in June, which will be my first off-property show in eight years (almost exactly. Rolling Rock was June 7th, and this show is June 3rd).
Now, I'm not normally one for showing unless there's a cross-country course involved, but I'm starting to get Mina. I'm starting to figure out her buttons and when to help her or leave her alone, and we've come to a sort of peace on the ground in which I'm as gentle as possible while I'm grooming and tacking her up, and in exchange, she neither bites nor kicks me (even if she threatens to). I'm comfortable with her, and while we still have plenty to work on, she's doing a lot for my confidence and I'd like to join in on the show fun in the saddle for once instead of running around on the ground helping everyone else out.
My statement that I could go to the show was met with enthusiasm and we agreed that I could take Mina to it, and that was that, so off I went to tack up.
Flash and I had dressage boot camp yesterday. There was a lot of focus on proper collection, which required that I have control over every muscle in my body as much as I have control over my horse's. It required that I remember all those things that I learned a really long time ago, like how to sit and how to engage my core without getting stiff, and it required finding that balance between just enough contact to gather the energy encouraged by my legs and so much contact that we stopped anytime I touched his mouth (or so little that I had no contact as soon as he collected).
I was sore by the end of my ride. I was sore today. I helped hay and sweep last night after my lesson and wound up with my entire body being itchy even though everything was covered except for my hands because I am just that allergic to grass. I have helped water in single digit temperatures and trekked out through six inches of mud to catch horses and run all over the barn closing stall doors at feeding time. I've fallen off and pulled muscles and gotten concussed and been terrified and elated and I still keep going back.
I've been doing this for so long that I don't know how to separate myself from it. Sure, it's taken a spot on the back burner here and there, but I've been riding since I was eight years old. I've loved horses since a long time before that. The prospect of owning a horse has been one of those things that's been there motivating me for most of my life. For me, the idea of not riding, of not having horses in my life, is... I can't even think of a good metaphor for it.
I make a lot of mistakes, and I mean a lot. I have days where I just can't quite seem to figure out how to cue that dressage movement correctly, or where I miss distance after distance because my eye just isn't there (or my eye is there, but my nerves are getting in the way). I have days where I can't get out of my own head and everything just feels wrong. I have days where my ride doesn't really make me feel better, even when I want it to, and I know that there are people out there who judge me on nothing but those mistakes, rather than on all of the good things I've done.
That's not the important thing, though.
The important thing is that I keep going back. I keep picking up and trying again even when it's hard. Sometimes that's in the same ride, sometimes it's three rides later, and sometimes I need months off to feel comfortable enough to come back and try again, but I do it. With riding, there has never been a question of "Will I or won't I?" The question is "When will I?" Since the beginning, stopping has never been a question. Quitting has never been in the picture. Every time I've taken a break it was with the understanding that it was a break, not the end, because I'm never done.
After what happened a few weeks ago, I found myself repeating something that I used to say to myself back in high school, back when things were bad and I missed my horse and I didn't know what to do—the best way to honor the memory of what's been lost is to keep working, to keep trying, to keep getting better and pushing for more and taking all of those lessons that I've learned from those horses that aren't around anymore and applying them to the ones that are. The best way to honor my past is to keep moving forward.
That hasn't always been easy. My riding career hasn't been a smooth one. There have been a lot of dreams that I've had which have gone through revision because I either don't want them anymore or they just aren't realistic. There have been a lot of bumps in the road and a lot of times where I was so discombobulated that stopping seemed like the solution, but it was never permanent. It never stuck.
It never stuck because while I've been playing piano for longer that I've been riding, it's riding that has taught me how to stand back up. It's riding that has taught me that when you fall, you get up and you dust off your breeches and you might swear a little bit (or a lot) and it might take a little while (or a long time), but you get back in that saddle and you try again. Sometimes you have to take a few steps back and work your way up to where you were, but you do it and it'll happen if you just keep trying.
I'm not a perfect rider. I will be the first to admit that I'm not a perfect rider. I screw up on a regular basis. I'm not going to deny that. It doesn't make me any less, though, because I don't ignore my screw-ups. I fix them. Sometimes it takes me two minutes and sometimes it takes me two months (or two years), but I fix them. I have been fortunate enough to have a lot of horses in my life who have been willing to take it when I mess up, and enough who will let their displeasure be known, to figure it out along the way.
I have been fortunate enough to have a series of trainers who have been patient with me and let me set my own goals and move at my own pace, who have dealt with my anxiety and my mistakes and helped me to figure out how to handle those things so that at the end of the day, this is more fun than anything else. I have been fortunate enough to find a best friend that I can communicate with through facial expressions and bond with over our mutual nostalgia for *NSYNC and other various 90s kid favorite artists (and also our incessant need for sugar), who supports my ridiculousness and encourages my horse-related interests (however different from hers they are) and makes me laugh (and also enables me, but we don't need to talk about that).
Picking up and carrying on isn't easy. It's never easy. It wasn't easy the first time, and it's not easy now, but if there was anything in this world that was going to teach me how to keep going after my first big fall (and all of the ones that have come after it), it's riding. Horses are a part of me, and even though it hurts like hell sometimes, I wouldn't change that. My trajectory in this sport has not been linear, but the best-fit line would show it going up. I'm stronger for riding, both physically and mentally, and for all the mistakes and tears and pain, I know I'm better than I was a week or a month or a year ago. My trainer knows I'm better. That's all that matters.
There's this quote that says "Horses give us the wings we lack," and it's not wrong. Riding taught me how to fly, and I would never give up my mistakes because they're worth every perfect distance and flawless jump. Those things are rare and they're what I'm always striving for, and every time they happen, I know that the horses from my past are with me, because I wouldn't be able to do this without them.
So yeah, things aren't back to normal, but they also aren't over either, and that's good enough for me.
Until next time x
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