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.
