Deconstructing some fear stuff.

I kid you not, this was my fortune at supper last night.

I have recently discovered being scared.

Like, really scared.

From my understanding, (and Equus, etc. subscriptions) riders of all natures deal with fear at one point or another.  Also, the only riders I've met who never deal with any twinge of fear are idiots as a general rule.

But for the multitude of things I am scared of in life— heights being at the top of the list— horsemanship has always been a very controllable subject. Doofy horses might put my senses on higher alert, but I'd ride them.. and often liked to.

I have a good sized list of things I will not do because I don't think they are worth the risk anymore, personally. I haven't ridden without a helmet since I was 22. I haven't ridden double since I was a teenager. I got confident enough to gallop around bareback in college but don't feel the urge to go that fast without a saddle again. Riding on busy roads does not excite me. Moving fast on slick pavement with any kind of grade has made me nervous since a fall I had at the age of 20. I've always known I can sit a few bucks, but no bronc busting. I wish I could say I never ride alone, but I don't have that luxury. Becoming the director of an equestrian program instead of just a hired hand changed a lot of the way I ride, and I started defining my boundaries a bit.. but for the most part, it made me a better rider. I think everyone has their limits. I also knew (know?) what I was (am?) good at, and worked to better what I sucked at.

Yesterday, I went to go ride. I have been advised by my doctor to stay off of horses preferably through November and into December, but I've had to ride several times during that time period and felt fine afterwards. One of my duties and one of the things I really enjoy is trying out and working on new camp horse acquisitions— figuring out what they're good at, what needs tuning up, and which students or campers would benefit from riding them. Our farrier brought us an older, half-blind black mare a few weeks ago who is broke as anything. He used "Jessie" for mounted shooting, apparently, and general ranch work, but she's past the age of being terribly useful at any jobs involving speed.. Exactly the age we want for a good-natured babysitter horse.

I've had a few weeks to get to know Jessie on the ground, so while my husband was trimming ponies down at the barn, I tacked her up and lead her out to the arena to take her for a test drive. She hasn't been used in a year or so, but had given us no reason to doubt her usefulness. I lead her to the mounting block, stood on the top step, and started to put a foot in the stirrup. As many slightly pissy old mares do, she flapped her lips and twitched her tail. I hesitated. And then I started to shake, and, shortly thereafter, cry.

Jessie Girl.. half asleep. As usual.

(It is not fun to write that.)

Richard had been watching me the entire time, and he came over to see what on Earth I was doing. Because he has a huge heart (and probably because he's a camp guy, weekend wrangler, and used to the occasional hysterical little girl) he talked me through swinging over and— again, this pains me to write— lead me around the arena about half a lap. I had composed myself by then and rode her for a half hour or so, sans lead line, and she was fine. Rusty, grouchy, and slow.. but perfectly fine.

A couple of days before Jessie, my former boss (and friend) put me on his three-year-old colt to lead trail rides. I was perfectly fine with that. The colt, "Smiley," was incredibly well-mannered and polite, but he's still just a baby and I didn't hesitate to ride him. He even boogered once, and I probably tensed more than I normally would, but we moved on and had a nice time. I think perhaps I wasn't as afraid because I wasn't the boss in that situation. Sure, in my short relationship with my horse, I was the boss.. But there was my actual boss there, maybe not physically, but I was doing a job he asked me to do and I had no problem with executing it and leaving that young horse hopefully a tiny bit better for his widened experience. Not real fear on my part. But when I'm the top dog at my own place, I burst into tears getting on a geriatric, sleepy ranch horse. 

What brought this crap on?

I'm tired of telling the story, but if you recall my last post about taking three-year-old mustang Indigo to his first ACTHA ride.. I took him, but we didn't get to go on the actual trail ride. Instead, he transformed from the quietest, un-phaseable colt I've ever met to a real fun little bronc. He tossed me before I could even get in the saddle the first time and continued to buck for close to 90 seconds. (I checked my watch.) 

Smiley.

I ignored my guts, which told me to quit. I also ignored my experience, which (should have) told me to stop and figure out what had made this little horse do such a violent 180 in his behavior.

Instead, I got back on (and was bolted and tossed in very short succession) not once, but twice. I had to be picked off the ground on the last go-around, but besides doing some damage to the normal alignment of my skeletal system and being bed ridden for a day, I came off gloriously unscathed.

He's been to a chiro, who reports (a) saddle fit pain (b) possibly the remnants of a fall, equalling misalignment of his spine and a tilted pelvis (c) tenseness and muscle overcompensation all over his body. He has shown us twice that he is ready and willing to buck again when you try and step a foot in the saddle. I have not done any more than that.

I've been to a chiro, who says my legs are crooked, my pelvis is wonky, and my lower back is toast. Which I knew. Not to snark what she does; it was a huge help! 

I took him to a Natural Horsemanship ground clinic. He has been reported to be a "left-brained introvert" on the "Parelli Horsenality" spectrum, "extremely passive-aggressive," and "potentially dangerous or violent." I really liked the folks at the clinic, but I'd also like to believe they are wrong. We had some success with the Seven Games and I don't discount their use. But I didn't walk away feeling terribly encouraged about him. I'm not done trying, and he is still sore. Those are notes for a later date, anyways.

To sum it up and psychoanalyze myself.. I'm primarily scared of getting injured. Potentially much, much worse than I was. (I got off quite good, with a couple of weeks of a really cool limp.) But fueling that is a hypersensitivity to every ear twitch and stomp and snort— I'm terrified I'm going to overlook the warning signs that I'm about to become a lawn dart again. And I have a tough time trusting my mount. I trusted Indigo with a lot last summer, and he never once gave me a reason to doubt him. There is a sense of failure in my first solo experiment in training a horse from square one. There is frustration. And yep, definitely still a hefty dose of fear at the thought of sitting on him again. I've fallen off more times than I can count (like most riders, probably)— but this was definitely different.

Anyway.. what to do about it?

Obviously, seek help. I don't have dozens of horse friends in the area who I would want to take instruction from (doesn't that sound witchy?) But there are others I trust and want to learn from who have offered to help with Indigo. I have (and will) use them, plus the equine chiro and our vet. I am not at all ready to get back on him again, but if pain is any indication, he isn't ready to carry a rider, either.

I loved the woman I was taking dressage lessons from with Bandit, and I will be using her again as soon as she gets back from training in Florida. I have a couple of leads on other trainers and instructors who I may have to drive a bit to utilize, but I think it's worth it.

And I'm just going to keep riding. I dismissed my two months with no riding because I was afraid my nervousness would only get worse. Riding Bandit has helped; even though he is far from a Steady Eddie, I know his moves and I trust our relationship. Unfortunately, he is still recovering so I'm limited in what we do. (That bad eye looks pretty good, though!) I'm going to ride Jessie and Ranger, who are new (they need it before they go into lessons) but who I know are well broke and relatively mindful.  I'm going to get back on Annie next week and see if going back to twice weekly rides will help her with her chronic witchiness.

I wish I had more people to ride with. Not experts, just horse folks. I wish I could be at a boarding  barn sometimes, and this is one of those times. I miss the horse community— not the great one that exists when I get to be at NATRC rides, or the one I have on Facebook thanks to a short lifetime of riding and acquiring friends along the way. But actual human beings to ride with, so I'm not always the one at the barn by myself. Would that solve everything? No way, but it would make things easier. 

"The horse doesn't love you." — Jere Johnson
But I am so glad to have my old man to totter around on!

Possibly the best advice I've received thus far is to stop replaying the bad memory over and over again. I haven't been able to quit completely, but I think about it less frequently. There's something masochisticly pleasing about hitting the "replay" button on that mental tape.. and hitting the ground over, and over, and over again. Gah. Sucks.

But it is getting better!

Have you had a sudden onset of fear while riding? What've you done about it?

I confess to taking some inspiration to write about all of this from a blog called Drafts with Dots; the writer had a nasty incident involving back hooves and her face, and is still in the process of recovery. She writes much more frequently and poignantly than I do, and the fact that she could do it prompted me to try. I think the simple act of typing out the things I hate to think about banishes some of the squicky gut feelings. I know I'm getting better. And at the end of the day, I still absolutely love to ride.. and almost more so, I love to teach children to love riding like I do.