The Fear
The fear crept into me quietly. At first it was more of a general feeling of dread that stole into my days, and made doing the things that make me happy, grayer, and harder. It made me hate the sight of my saddle. Smart money says it began when Nita kicked me and shattered my upper arm. It was an ordeal that lasted months and hurt not just my body but my pride.
Jimbo made fun of me riding Jenny when i got back started riding again. It hurt, worse even than the broken arm. My self esteem was so tender. I wondered if I could never ride. If I was hopeless, and I didnt want harsh eyes that were so unfriendly, to see me. Nobody likes to be harrassed. You'd think another adult would know better than to be so cruel to someone trying to recover from a bad accident... I hated my life.
I slowly became afraid to be myself, crept apologetically around my barn, nursing my latest injuries, begining to suspect I had changed irrevocably.
I was scared of being hurt again.
At first, I could not feel the gradual tightening of my gut. I told myself I was more concerned, but that I was not actually afraid. When did I start to suspect? When we were breaking Kara, and I had a lot of trouble learning the new techniques of riding popular with the Quarter Horse people. It was counter-intuitive, felt wrong, and yeah, it scared me. What if I couldn't learn it? How would I get along?
The dressage was worse.
The Dressage trainer wanted nothing to do with training me... JUST THE HORSE. And when the dressage trainer was done with Kara, everything i had worked so hard to teach her was kaput. Now, Not only did I not know how to ride my horse, but she was easily offended when I fouled up and asked her acording to our old program, to do things that were baisic. I went from feeling uncomfortable and stupid, to overhorsed and miserable.
Then Kara had a baby and everything was grand. No riding. I concentrated on training Khan, and that was all stuff i could understand. I was on solid ground. everything was known, except the people Khan was with, where I had to stable him, according to my marents, were shady. So a whole new set of problems came up.
When Khan came home riding was sometimes fun, and sometimes a mess. He was fine from the ground, but would not listen to anyone on his back. I didnt mind much at first.
Then I tried to start riding Kara again, and she bucked me off hard enough to blast my shoulder to pieces.... It just confirmed everything that I had ever feared. That I could not ride my own horse. That I didnt deserve her or any of them, that I had become the kind of person I had found it very hard to respect as a young hot-shot-- the frightened rich housewife. with nice horses, too afraid to use him (or her) but to stubborn to give him up to somone who could use him better.
Jimbo made fun of me riding Jenny when i got back started riding again. It hurt, worse even than the broken arm. My self esteem was so tender. I wondered if I could never ride. If I was hopeless, and I didnt want harsh eyes that were so unfriendly, to see me. Nobody likes to be harrassed. You'd think another adult would know better than to be so cruel to someone trying to recover from a bad accident... I hated my life.
I slowly became afraid to be myself, crept apologetically around my barn, nursing my latest injuries, begining to suspect I had changed irrevocably.
I was scared of being hurt again.
At first, I could not feel the gradual tightening of my gut. I told myself I was more concerned, but that I was not actually afraid. When did I start to suspect? When we were breaking Kara, and I had a lot of trouble learning the new techniques of riding popular with the Quarter Horse people. It was counter-intuitive, felt wrong, and yeah, it scared me. What if I couldn't learn it? How would I get along?
The dressage was worse.
The Dressage trainer wanted nothing to do with training me... JUST THE HORSE. And when the dressage trainer was done with Kara, everything i had worked so hard to teach her was kaput. Now, Not only did I not know how to ride my horse, but she was easily offended when I fouled up and asked her acording to our old program, to do things that were baisic. I went from feeling uncomfortable and stupid, to overhorsed and miserable.
Then Kara had a baby and everything was grand. No riding. I concentrated on training Khan, and that was all stuff i could understand. I was on solid ground. everything was known, except the people Khan was with, where I had to stable him, according to my marents, were shady. So a whole new set of problems came up.
When Khan came home riding was sometimes fun, and sometimes a mess. He was fine from the ground, but would not listen to anyone on his back. I didnt mind much at first.
Then I tried to start riding Kara again, and she bucked me off hard enough to blast my shoulder to pieces.... It just confirmed everything that I had ever feared. That I could not ride my own horse. That I didnt deserve her or any of them, that I had become the kind of person I had found it very hard to respect as a young hot-shot-- the frightened rich housewife. with nice horses, too afraid to use him (or her) but to stubborn to give him up to somone who could use him better.
Comments