ROBBING DEPRESSION OF ITS PLEASURE

So, I can start this confessional by telling you all the things that I am grateful for just so you don't think poorly of me. And trust me, I do know how fortunate, how priviledged and how deeply lucky I am. I have a job that I can do from home. I've been healthy and none of my close friends or family members have died from COVID. And, I have an amazing amatuer-friendy and fancy pony to call my own. (See, still trying to have a judgement-free zone.)

Yet, living alone in a Global Pandemic is hard no matter how many gifts I have, no matter how many gratitude lists I write or how closely I hug the hounds. I read a great article recently about how working from home, self-isolation, and the lack of human contact is wearing us down, increasing anxiety and depression and, sitting for hours in our kitchen chairs (meant for a 30-40 minute meal) is wreaking havoc on our bodies and souls.  

I didn't ride last week. And, work and a snow storm kept me away from the barn. You see, there were many important meetings, and a new project that had to be finished and well, you know, work allows me to have all the great things that keep me happy. Right? Shanti will be fine and I'll get back in the groove when "all of this" is behind me. Right? 

Depression and anxiety are funny things. Sometimes you are in it, can feel it and resist the pull to bring you deeper into it. And there are those times when its like fog rolling in on a warm winter morning. The snow looks the same and the wispy vagueness in the lines are barely noticable so you just keep moving into it. If you're lucky, when turning a corner and the fog envelopes you, you stop and work your way back to the sunlight.

Sometimes you just have to get there to be successful.  Sometimes when you're there, you just have to brush her to be successful and sometimes you just need to throw your saddle on and plan on just walking around the indoor to be successful.  And, then you notice that she's a little stiff, a little spooky and your mamma instincts kick in until the ride has balance, Shanti has flow and your face has a smile.  Wow, that was quite nice.

Shanti and the HYP, her BFF

Knowing that fog swirls around filling low spots, you reach for a hand that reaches out to guide you further into the sunlight...  you say YES to the lesson.  And for the second day, with the guidance of the Happy Young Professional (and Shanti's BFF), you allow balance, flow to lift the fog filling the indoor with smiles and pats of "good girl' cheating depression of another day rooted in routine.

It is almost always about doing the next right thing and incorporating those things you love to rob depression of its pleasures...

ONE DAY A GIRL MUST LET GO

 We all have our great loves.  For those who open your hearts, you will have many loves and those loves may also become great ones.  You are the lucky ones for it took me a long time to believe that love (and good things) were infinite that the bucket it filled was deep and ever flowing - so much that you could have all that you wanted and there was still more to be had, to be shared and to be freely given.

This post has been haunting me for so, so long...  And when I think that this blog's entire existence started with my beloved Sugar and all that went into loving a wild thing and all the living and healing that comes with it, writing this is hard.  Sugar was my great love and I had her for a memorable ten years...  a memorable ten years.

Those memories make me smile even if once when talking to a PTSD therapist, she felt that I was in an an abusive relationship.  Most of my injuries were due to freak circumstances, not her fault, I should be a better rider, etc.  I think she saw a patttern.

Sugar, god rest her soul, is still with me.  I'm not talking about her spirit or a ghost but that accumulation of energy around the spooks, spins and injuries.  It is not her fault nor do I ever want to say that I didn't love owning her and that I still miss her but I carry the scars of those things that no longer exist.

Happy Young Professional
Riding

Shanti is not Sugar. And as I write that, I wonder if I'm being disloyal to Sugar.  It is all so confusing.  Shanti is not Sugar.  And I can still love Sugar and honor that she was a challenging ride, right?

The haunting is in my own head.  When I head out for a trail ride with a friend, I have to remember, Shanti is not Sugar.  In her most animated, Shanti just gets big - 18H+ and launches into a military march forward.  When she spooks, she moves to the side and then stops to look at what scared her.  I can canter in a field and that is all she does, waiting to see if there is more.

Happy Young Professional 
Hunting Shanti

Shanti is more anxious about poles on the ground than she is of anything on, under or around a jump.  They are just things to get over and wow, getting over them is fun for her.

And yet, I wonder when will I finally let go of my beautiful ghost? When will I get on, do something new or jump a jump without thinking "what will make her spook?"  Will I ever enter the warmup and not look for the thing that will cause an explosion and will I ever enter a ring thinking, how do we make this brilliant vs trying to get through the test quietly?

Sug, I love you and our life together was most spectacular.  I will never ever forget you, for your place is deep in my heart.  What I am going to do is remove your place in my brain... not our memories or adventures but all that stuff that an anxious "master" (old) rider stores up to release at inopportune moments.  

And letting go is not about less but about allowing more, allowing Shanti and I to build memories and have adventures ghost-free.  For all loves never go away but continue to accumulate into ever expanding love...  

ALL THEY WANTED WAS A CUPPA TEA

There is a story about Buddha fighting the Demon God, Mara, on the eve of his enlightenment.  Instead of denying his existence or driving him away, Buddha calmly acknowledged that the demon was there, "I see you, Mara".  He invited Mara in for tea and served him like king.  Mara drank the tea and then left, bored with Buddha’s response.

Well, I think we all know that I am not Buddha, that I am not on the eve of my own enlightenment and, calmly is not always the way I greet my demons.  And often, when confronted with my demons, I don't have the self awareness to invite them in for a cup of tea.  And if I am really honest, my demons sweep in like over-caffeinated Dementors out on the town looking for some rip roaring fun.

Today I jumped my Lil Redheaded Girl.  I've been eyeing a jump set up for a lesson earlier in the week.  Every day, I'd look at it and say, "I can do that!"  And another day would pass, "Shanti is a bit too excited, I'll jump it tomorrow."  Tomorrow came and I thought, "Well I have a lesson in the morning, I'll jump it then.  I know I can do it... tomorrow."

Its been weirdly bi-polar.  I know I can do it.  I watched so many old videos of Sugar and I doing it.  And when I talk about Shanti being wild, her worst  is really just a level 3 on the Sugar 10 point scale of exuberance.  And you know what?  I competed Sugar often at a Sugar level 8 and cliniced on level 10s.

Getting there slowly

And yet this morning, when I entered the indoor, the Demons swept in very Dementor-like.  I didn't know what hit me, my anxiety level was at a 10 and all the strength was drained out of my body.  WTF just happened?  I felt fine, actually great, until I saw the "JUMP" that was so easy.

God Bless anyone who teaches me...  I wouldn't know how to deal with this kind of anxiety...  Wait, I actually do.  I spent so many years learning coping skills that I teach this stuff.  Oh, right...  I did no prep work for my "big" jumping lesson.

Like the Buddha, our trainer did not ignore or deny the anxiety...  We invited Anxiety to acknowledge itself, invited it to watch (with a cup of tea, kind of) and continued on.  Eventually, bored, Anxiety left.

I KNOW I CAN!

I jumped Ms Shanti... we're still not going big but I cantered over the "Jump" that had been calling my name.  And, I have a pony who is bred to jump.  When I finally reacted and ask her to balance around the corners while sitting on her haunches, I understood the difference.

There is amazing power and grace when she comes around a corner and seeks the next jump.  Her powerful hind quarters are under you and her front end is lighter and lighter - bold and eager - you know, there is a heaven and you're riding it.

Maybe my enlightenment comes slowly...  we are definitely working forward towards it.


For the full story from one of my favorite teachers, Tara Brach https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/finding-true-refuge/201508/inviting-mara-tea

"I THOUGHT YOU KNEW HOW TO RIDE"

Tonight the lottery is at $321 million dollars and yes, I have a ticket.  Some say that the odds of winning are so slim, why bother?  I say, "I have my ticket and that one person will be me.!"

And, as my mind wanders into all the wonderful things I would do with my winnings, it hits me...  If I got one dollar for every time someone asks me why I still take lessons or mentions that I should know how to ride by now, I would already have all those wonderful things..

Shanti and the Happy Young Professional

Tonight, almost 12 hours after I stepped up onto the mounting block in an indoor warmed to a blistering 10 degrees (fahrenheit), I am still wrapped in the euphoria of a lesson well done.

Can I get that feeling on my own?  Without recreational objects to ingest?

If we are talking about riding... um... I confess, sometimes.  Yeah, that's right!  Sometimes I hop off my pony and I think, "That was fabulous!"  And sometimes I revel in all those moments that felt spectacular and celebrate the things we did to get there.

The key word here is sometimes.  And, here is a god-honest confession, a good portion of my rides are done with a head full of self-doubt, a mind just a bit impatient for results, and an ego that still thinks that someone else would be doing a better job. 

Sugar and I (Photo used with permission)

Left too long riding by myself, (no lessons) I begin to "not work on that, I may mess things up" or "is she getting ewe-necked because she's not using her back" and then there is the, "Am I ruining her?  Better not push, better not try, better just walk and practice halts and the free walk."  {{{All my horses are halt and free walk rock stars, just sayin.}}}

Two Girls Dreamin

With Sugar, lessons were strictly marriage counseling - bringing an old couple together to hash out their issues and bring harmony.  With Maisy, it was mostly about tapping in all that movement and helping us use her body well.

And, Shanti... wow.  She is young, appropriately green for her age, with move movement, suppleness and enthusiasm with just a hint of...  "If that's all you want, fine by me!"

Lessons remind me that I do know how to ride, they break the over-thinking log jam in my brain and they inspire me to do more.

Today, in the frigid cold, Shanti and I danced together, encouraged to ask for more and pushed to be better - together.  Our last canter, her hard direction, was light, powered by her hind end and floated up and through my body.  For the time we held it, I was in heaven...  This is what it should be...

Yeah, I still take lessons!

THE HARDEST THING

Each night at my Writer's Retreat we had a prompt and the writing from that prompt was limited to 15 minutes.  My mind would search memories and like a spinning roulette wheel would land on something and the writing wrote itself...  The Hardest Thing...

When is it time?  When is it giving up?  When is it my time and not his?

They tell you that you'll know...  that they will tell you.  Then someone slips in the clinical signs, "can't get up, won't eat, incontinent - any one or more of those things may mean its time.

The Happiest Dog

A wise vet told me that she would rather do it "one month too early than a day too late."

Jonah is my friend and he's been through so much with me.  He was never the favorite - a shit head puppy, the Convict - kicked out of every barn in New England.  Oh, they loved him as they banned his eager hungry self for his gift for finding food was legendary.  I almost went broke reimbursing friends, neighbors and barnmates for all his stolen loot.

If Jonah had been a man, he would have been the BFF I should marry - loyal, eager to please and always there when I needed him.  But alas, he always remained the BFF while the Bad Boy, Chandler was the pup I married.

It's just a cough and yeah, its harsh but he's fine when its over.  And yes, sometimes its so violent that he loses control of his bowels but really, its ok...  Not much of a mess, just hard little balls of poop.

There is not a more joyful face than Jonah's.  His eagerness to please is palpable.  There is no greater expression of that joy than the greeting he gives when you come home.  It's a complete physical experience - a wiggling body, a wagging tail whipping trinkets off the table as he weaves between your legs.

Jonah and Chandler

Not now, look how happy he is.  Look he is eating with gusto.  Not now, not yet.

But that cough - Maybe in a week or two...
But that cough - It really isn't that bad, right?
But that cough - "Jonah, please breathe, come on boy, just breathe..."

One month early versus a day too late...

I hold his face in my hands.  I tell him the story of his life.  I apologize for not loving him as much as he loved me.  I stroke his thick black coat and I promise him peace....

Is it one month early?  I pray that is really isn't a day too late.

Rest In Peace - Nightwinds Sweet Jonah - 11/25/2005 - 10/14/19

I was lucky to know you!

I AM WHAT I AM AND WHAT I AM IS BACK!

Hmm, that title seems to be a bit bold, a bit of a pronouncement and perhaps a teeny weeny bit of braggadocio.  And then one must remember the saying... what you think, is what you are (or something like that).

So, today I think that I may have found myself again.  Maybe its too much to believe that the self that has been found is the pre-tree incident self. And yet, this self that sits in front of the computer typing is a being that cannot contain the joy and enthusiasm found in today's jumping lesson.

You see...  I jumped.

That alone is not a pronouncement from most and from me, it's been more regular since Eventing Trainer gave me a prescription that said - jump!  Jump every time you ride until whatever it is that you jump feels normal.  Every time, jump.

HYP riding, not me!

For me, I should add - I jumped, I laughed and greeted the newness of Shanti and I's relationship with curiosity - not worry and fear.

Let me repeat, I jumped and laughed when she took a long spot, was so excited that I saw that she was going to take the long spot.

I squealed with delight when we cantered over it again and her jump went up and through me.

I jumped and for the first time in a very long time, I greeted my mistakes with a smile and patted the Lil' Redheaded Pony with an apology and did it again.

And, that little demon peeks out occasionally and notes that it wasn't a course and the vertical was "just" 2'3" and whispers gruffly - you should be doing more, you should be better.  Today, I acknowledge the demon and asked him to leave.

I am what I am and what I am is BACK!

TELL ME YOUR STORY

Warning - Non Horsey Post.  The writing prompt at my very first Writers Workshop was "What I didn't tell you then..."  After combing my life for something, meditating and dreaming of some subject matter, this is what flowed:

Yes, I am that person. There is little I leave unsaid.  As a kid, I was the Hermione Granger of my class.  A teacher's question and my hand shot up - "Me! Me! Me!  Oh, please choose me!"

Oh I could give you a million stories on why I needed my voice to be heard - a silenced child, a body born into a family of so many bodies - all loud and craving to be heard, a girl amongst men whose voice always seemed to be trodded on.

" You will hear me." screamed a voice threatened to be lost.

So I am that person who has no trouble confronting an angry soul, saying goodbye to the dying, and I have little fear of saying things that need to said.

Oh, did you notice the use of the words "little fear" because that was intentional.  And the use of the word "little" was kind of a lie.  I say things, appropriate things (I think) and I then worry if those things that were said were things that were the right things to say.

So, I am that person today more likely to silence my voice as my words get clouded with thoughts and fears all of my own making.  "OOO, what will they think?"  "OOO, she is so much more articulate than me."  "OOO, that was so beautifully written, so wonderfully read, I can't do that!"

And then, the words get hidden, stuffed in a brain churning with thought, brimming with stories and held captive by fear and self-doubt.

Oh, wait a minute, this writing was supposed to be about you, about the words I don't want to leave unsaid and not about the stuff holding me back.

YOU are your own words.  You are your own story and for every word, every story there is a reader.  Words heal, stories that are released from your heart, told honestly from your essence are perfect in every flawed way.  Be courageous and let your life become someone's lifeline.  Let someone say, "I thought I was the only one until I read this."

The hardest critic, the harshest comments, your silencer is not that girl who criticized your blog post and then linked to it for "ALL" to see.  Your silencer is that voice inside that says "I am a "writer" with heavy emphasis on the quotes.  The warden of your words is not the person who liked your blog but stated that it was a bit whiny.  Your warden was the person inside who believed it.

So be free with your writing and know that someone, somewhere needs to read it.  And that is good enough.