Getting Back to the Beginning

It’s Fall, and I’m having a day in introspection.

Despite the fact that Diego’s health struggles have been linked to this blog’s original subject matter (in the way that it’s suppressing his innate fire, spunk and opinions) – I feel like my thoughts and posts have drifted too far away from said subject.

I started this blog as a supplement to my diary on AND, where I waded through the new waters of self-introspection in my journey with Diego in an entirely NEW way of relating to each other. The entries complimented and added to the other. I haven’t been active on AND much during Diego’s sickness, being exhausted mentally – my creativity sapped. I need to get back to these roots though, that’s what this is all about.

Our relationship.
Discovery.
Who is he? Not the horse I knew and controlled for so many years, but who is the horse underneath?
What are his thoughts and desires free of past abuse and shoulder chips?

 I want to dig and find this. I still believe in empowering him to be everything he can be in his golden years, mentally, physically.

So I’m diving head first into an assessment of where we are right now, relationally:

Firstly, I’m a perfectionist, so everything I write about our encounters tends to be pushed through an unreasonable filter that forgets the good pieces and focuses on the bad. Writing this helps me though, as the blank space begs to be filled with words, I think of more good and the bad can’t possibly fill the whole void.

I don’t think we are where I wanted us to be.
That frustrates me immensely.  My obsession with linear progress says we should be super-tight buddies now, inseparable, trusting each other endlessly, except after particularly bad fights. This isn’t reality though.

Interestingly though, reality shows that I have a fairly confident social horse now. He has taken the whole arc from Self-confident Young Bully to Old Broken & Insecure to where he is now (which is somewhere in between). On a bad day he’s a terror that walks into his paddock and immediately starts chasing and biting anyone in his way – on a good day he plays and makes jokes with everyone. Bold and mischievous, he waltzes up to stall doors to whuffle, squeal, posture and play the ‘nipping game’ for minutes on end. In the pasture he sees the herd and willingly goes toward them instead of carefully and fearfully avoiding them. Sometimes I have to be a bit forceful keeping him from ‘investigating’ the pasture mares a bit too thoroughly (IE: nose up the butt & kicked in the face syndrome).

This is all good news. I wanted this. I wanted him to feel good in his own skin again. 

I wish this had transferred into a more trusting and confident role in his partnership with me, but it hasn’t and that leads me to my next topic...

I wanted a stronger bond with him at this point. There are too many times I feel that he would really rather leave me in the dust, that he’d rather be free of my hindrance or restraint or pressure. My pride falters at that, and that’s really what it boils down to. My Pride wants that result. Over Entitled Ego is such a HARD thing to kill! It feels like a blow to my humanity every time he wants to leave me. 

Wow… could it be that I’m becoming codependent with my horse?   

O.o   Ouch. What a revelation.

   I truly believe in the philosophy of training that frees and enables the horse to be and assert himself in healthy ways, but the downside and ‘in between the lines’ social rules of some of those communities can make one feel terrible about themselves at times. Especially if their horse wants to be away from them. In all technicality, if you’re doing everything right and the horse has had a chance to heal – he should want to be with you, so says the philosophy. I’m starting to think maybe this isn’t a comprehensive rule though. Maybe he is more complicated than I think, maybe he has issues I don’t understand and needs for independence that I don’t get. To acknowledge human needs for independence and autonomy and yet deny Diego and all horses that same thing seems… well… stupid, now that I think about it.

The small victories really shouldn’t be forgotten. Just yesterday we both had to confront some serious fears – and me both made it through unscathed:

   We were riding in the pasture when a semi truck pulled down the gravel road to the chicken houses, just outside the fence. Not a big deal really, I thought it’d be gone by the time we were done as that path also leads back to the barn! It wasn’t done…  (I am personally very sensitive and fearful of sudden loud noises and I’ve seen this truck there before. The engine stays running the whole time and I never know when it’s going to make those horrible hissing blasts that tractor trailers are known for. Not to mention all the other mechanical noises attached to it’s tasks). I REALLY did not want to go past this thing, but with it nearing dark – traipsing up the other gravel road to the actual ROAD seemed like a bad idea. People drive fast on our road and it’s a curve to boot.

Deep breath… let's try this.

So after checking to make sure the driver was nowhere NEAR the seat in the truck (I also have an instinctual fear the driver will drive off or back up at the most inopportune time and squash us), I slowly led Diego forward. He wasn’t anymore keen on the truck than I was, as he slowly and purposefully set each foot on the path, silently telling me he was ready to dance and/or bolt at any moment. I think his head resembled a Giraffe at that point (which is hilarious for a horse with such a low-set neck). He was wide eyed and snorty, but kept glancing past me at the path ahead of us. We had maybe 6 feet of space between us and the truck that we had to squeeze by in order to access the upper path. 

   Naturally as soon as I started this endeavor – leading the way with my brave self (sarcasm if you can’t tell), I came upon some blocks to my momentary bravery: there were metal foot steps leading up to the passenger door that stuck out, and an air compressor box on the side of the tank was MUCH louder than I’d anticipated. We were already 3-4 feet past the nose of the truck and I was suddenly having visions of Diego slicing legs open on those metal parts and of him trampling me in an effort to get away from the noise. The compressor noise really was painful, I couldn’t get past it without putting my fingers in my ears, which meant reins looped over my arm. Not entirely safe. I looked back at Diego, silently pleading with him to just trust me and follow me past without bolting. I ended up going by sideways, keeping an eye on him as we went. When it was Diego’s turn to pass the compressor, he took one long snort at it, lowered and arched his neck, kept his eyes on it and literally ‘stalked’ past it like a horsey equivalent to a big cat.

    I could not have been more proud or relieved once we got to the upper trail and headed away from the monstrous thing! There was a sense of partnership though, borne out of going through that, and I begin to realize it’s not just ‘doing everything right so he’ll always trust me” but just ‘going through things together’ and building that bond of life experience. I think I sheltered both of us for a time from these uncomfortable and sometimes terrifying experiences, robbing us of the knowledge that we can get through it together. 

Whew.

Writing about all this is extremely helpful. It helps me remember what I keep forgetting in life, relationships etc. It helps me keep hope and purpose in the midst of the angst and fights.

Always remember.