This post was written fall or winter of 2023. When I was uploading the last photo, it vanished. I vowed to never write again. In May of 2024, it re-appeared (at least most of the completed post was there). I tweaked it and publish it now. The happenings in the posts entitled "Blissful Me" and "We Did It" occurred approximately 9 months after this post was written.
Over a year ago, I bought a horse. I have done nothing (very little) with him since. A year of nothing. And I need to write about our year of nothing.
Over a year ago, I bought a horse. I have done nothing (very little) with him since. A year of nothing. And I need to write about our year of nothing.
Over the last year, people have asked 'Are you gonna ride?' (shrug. no) 'Did you ride?' (nope) 'how's your horse?' (standing) 'What are you doing with your horse?' (I dunno. nothing?')
I like to say we have done nothing. It suits my need for hyperbole. In truth, when it comes to what most would consider work, we have done little things inconsistently. Some ground work, some mounted work... here and there.
But I think it is fair to say we have done nothing. Especially as compared to what many who have known my horse journey would have thought my horse ownership would look like. We are not cantering circles. We are not trail riding for miles. No piaffes, pirouettes or cattle herding. No baby jumps.
It's funny. When I "owned" my first horse, I had a trainer, she had a trainer and we had someone half-leasing who was a MUCH better rider than me. A lot has happened since I owned Bella and (I admit) I bought Atticus with a vague idea of redemption. The question of 'What can we do?' was high on my mind... more like "What am I capable of achieving on my own?
Then I saw him and he was mine and I was his and the question transformed to 'what the h*** do I do with him??? On my own?!?' He is mine. There is no one upon whom I can blame any pre-conceived idea of failure. I didn't feel overfaced and no one was going to pull him into a lesson program with multiple riders of varying skills. It's me and him. The screws ups will be mine and mine alone.
Completely and utterly paralyzing. My time listening to Warwick Schiller's podcast, while giving me so much beauty and awareness, left me facing this horse asking questions like "What if he doesn't want to <do the thing>?" "Does he have headaches?" "If I blink wrong or stiffen my pinky finger will I create irreversible 'little t-trauma???"
It took me a while to realize how I was paralyzed and it's source. In the silence, I found that source and in the finding was able to slowly scratch, crawl and climb my way out of the fear hole I had fallen into. I wasn't afraid of Atticus. I was terrified of damaging him.
And so it's been a quiet year. Atticus was not what I expected. I certainly was not anything he had anticipated or wanted.