Oh, my darlings.
So many heartfelt messages have winged their way to me, so that you might share the burdens of fear and pain. I’ve read them all. I understand. At the end of this blog, I’m going to ask if any one of you has the courage to openly share and comment here about riding scared – of getting hurt and of your journey afterward – because your stories might help others.
This newfangled mindset of hanging on to horses that we fear, but are somehow guilted into riding and loving anyway, is epidemic.
I don’t use the word lightly. It’s the only one I can muster to describe a danger that goes – and grows – unchecked.
There is STILL so much pain around admitting to fearing a horse! Why this should be, I just don’t know. I am afraid of any number of horses, just as I am afraid of certain men. I don’t apologize for this. I certainly don’t buy into shame. The ability of others to hurt me is not in any way my problem, beyond that of keeping myself safe.
A small percentage of us handle troubled horses due to ego. We figure that we are handy enough to keep ourselves out of trouble. We think that we are probably this horse’s last chance. This might be true and sometimes, I ride among you. Faced with messed-up horses, I want to save them all!
Some of us want to ride a bargain. We say that we can’t afford an animal that has been correctly trained.
Some of us ride unsafe horses because we have never ridden any other kind. We don’t know what safe feels like. Much like heading out on a busy highway with bumper-to-bumper traffic, we know that if we stay focused and are quick to react, we’ll probably make it out alive.
Some of us secretly believe that we don’t deserve a horse – or any other relationship – that treats us well.
Some of us come from the culture that says “there are no problem horses, only problem people”. That’s nice! In print, it sure looks good on a tee shirt. Problem is, unless we are being mentored by somebody who walks the talk –day after day after day – it’s still down to us and the horse, alone in the windblown corral. Nothing has changed. We’re still trying to read goodness into a fight-or-flight twelve-hundred-pound entity.
Saying that our misunderstood horse is our own fault does not make the ground any softer for landing. It’s sad but I steadfastly refuse to believe that one horse’s thoughts and feelings have more value than my own life.
More of us, I think, were simply raised to be good.
“Be a good girl!” we were told, which often gave the perpetrator license to do whatever he (or she) wanted to do with us. Our minds were so malleable that we learned to make excuses on their behalf. “It was my fault”… “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time”… “I should’ve known better”… “You don’t know him, or how kind and sweet he can be, most days!”
Now, exchange this for how we approach our riding. “I didn’t read the signs, it’s not easy to predict her moods”… “I never know how far I can push him”… “She is so good to handle on the ground”… “When he’s in the right mood, he’s the best horse, ever!” We’ve no doubt heard – and said – them all.
I will never understand why everything has to be somebody’s fault. It doesn’t change a blessed thing and blame just gets in the way of healing.
One thing I DO know is this. It is not my job, or your job, to love and enable something – or someone – who wants to see us hurt. It doesn’t matter whether they knowingly put us in danger or whether they’re just untrustworthy flakes. It doesn’t matter if they’ve had a negative, dodgy upbringing and never knew love. It doesn’t matter if they’ve been abused or spoiled. It just doesn’t matter.
Your well-being and my well-being were never meant to come at such high cost.
That being said, there are riders who are the walking wounded. They are seemingly hurt as often as they are well. They might be made of sterner stuff than the average person, or perhaps they have less imagination than many of us? They don’t seem to worry, ever, or have foreboding thoughts. Maybe they’re just meant to ride tougher horses. If so, this discussion probably isn’t meant for them.
It might be time for some practical talk on where we go after we’ve been hurt.
Very few of us, when we’ve had kindness thrown back in our faces, can exchange this ‘disloyalty’ for continued happiness. Our memories are not that short. We are not that dumb. After serious injury, we will be replaying all the details in a brand new blockbuster thriller, ‘Boots, Saddles and PTSD!’ This is nothing to be ashamed of. It is natural when our fear tries to keep us safe.
When we become afraid, we are not less than. We are not meant to hang up our spurs and live lives in misery.
Whether or not the horse that hurt us can be our own trusted saddle horse again is questionable. He may need to go on to other hands, as might you.
I repeat, our memories are not that short. We are not that dumb. Experience has shown me that unless it was a fluke accident – such as an equipment malfunction or falling in a hole – it is next-to-impossible to forgive and forget. Which, if you’ve been paying attention, is what is needed between trusted friends.
Perhaps you can put your horse into serious training while you are healing and getting counselling. By the way, get counselling. Your very well-being has been compromised and you deserve help with that.
Perhaps your horse will learn to go from daily hard riding to more occasional trail rides, if you are not into serious mileage (although I doubt it). Perhaps you can sign up for weekly lessons from this trainer, once you are ready. Perhaps this person can eliminate the dark place between you and your horse where the two of you went wrong. Perhaps the horse, now working at his finest, can be offered for sale by the trainer, to find a more suitable home.
I strongly recommend that if you’ve been shaken to the core, you heal as best you can, then when you are ready to ride, sign up for lessons. Find a trusted teacher and use that person’s most solid horse. Place yourself in the care of someone who understands but will help you overcome your fear.
Also, do not buy another horse while you are in recovery. Just like a rebound relationship between people, buying a horse while you are on the mend isn’t always wise. Ride a good horse while you’re mending and start memorizing what it feels like to expect obedience. This is just another way of saying that we need to learn what it feels like to feel safe.
What I’m trying to say is that if these things can’t happen, it is not on you to patch them up. There are so many honest, undamaged horses in the world who would love to be yours. When we feel guilt-ridden and honour-bound to hang on to the misfits, we never open the door to the ones without baggage. Finally, we are not always going to want the same type of horse throughout our lifetime. Our physical bodies, our needs and our courage all wax and wane, just like the moon. This is normal.
Don’t react, don’t get upset with me. Don’t let’s talk about the horses you need to rescue and the cruelty of slaughter. For once, I want you to stop and breathe and cry and shake and pound your fist against the wall. For once, I want you to think about how it feels to be treated badly. Yes, it hurts… and you and I deserve better.
Again, if any of you has the courage to openly share and comment here about riding scared – of getting hurt and then, your journey since then – I welcome you to share here. This is a safe place, with no judgment. Your stories might help others. Thank you, Lee.
Perhaps one of the larger dangers is not being aware of who we really are – you might think you’re a hand, but cold backed before a trail ride is a lot different than being able to rope and dally on rank bush cattle. My fear extended beyond getting hurt at the start; I was scared of my ego getting bruised.
My father has some sort of mental disorder. We can guess at names – bipolar, schizophrenic. If we justify the way he acts, perhaps we can forgive him. And when hes up, boy is he up. In an upswing, he mentioned to me that he saw how good myself and my first horse were together. (A mistake buy, a green broke bred horse happened to just have the personality of a kids horse. Unblinking, unwavering, this mare didnt seem to need training. She was just point and go, and had no buttons, but the previous owner put 20 rides on her, bred her, and then a high school girl – me – used her to ride when there were not enough quads, to enjoy and trail around on all day, colt right behind her. I felt like a cowboy, thought I was good enough to be a cowboy.)
Obviously, my father had no horse experience either. We were both deluded enough to convince ourselves that many horses would just be this smart. So he recommended I keep an eye out for cheap horses. Ones that needed starting. He knew – in his mind – i had the ability to train anything! And so we stumbled across 2 colts, with 2 months training, that the owner assured us should “be no problem…”
In fact, the buckskin wasn’t a problem. Just like my first mare, she was plain easy. A little skittish, but no buck in her. I did make the brave first few leaps before leaving for college.
The roan, though, was another story. Her papers went back to Hancock 7 times – something I never thought to check because “papers dont make a horse!” This horse never stopped. She could climb fence like a squirrel, and my dad was unwilling to spend money on better fencing – he was on the downswing now. We once spent 8 hours over the span of 2 days chasing her – out family and neighbors pasture she went into, among herds of bison, and we had to run them through the chutes to catch her. I remember hanging on top, slipping a halter over her face like she was a wild mustang. Thinking of how the speedometer on the quad capped at 85km/hour and she could still outrun us. How if I could just get on her, shed be an amazing barrel horse. I lamented over my lack of equipment as an excuse. I didnt have an arena or a round pen. “I thought you could train anything!” He would sneer at me. “We aren’t selling. You owe me money. I thought you could train them and make them worth something.”
And so, every day, I would build up the last shreds of my courage, stacking them precariously one upon another, and march out to the horse pasture. She couldn’t be caught; I’d have to run her into a smaller, makeshift pen, where she would get her morning feed and I would stand by her, waiting to accept me. She refused to eat unless she couldn’t see me. After breakfast, she was amiable to be caught. So I would get a halter on her, and we would begin the work. I’d struggle to lead her without getting run over. She was constantly on top of me. A send out for lunge, a quick smack, putting a fence between us or a stick – it never worked. So we would step to groundwork. And any noise – a rustled branch, wind in her hair, bird overhead seemed to send her flying at me.
After 3 months, I begged my dad: please, let me sell her. For what we paid. She isn’t worth it.
Again, he needed the money. No waste. And no please or thanks or encouragement either.
Back out I went, to give her the morning grain, weary as usual. There had been some improvement, igniting in me some fragile hope. While being fed, shed go so far as allow me to PET her. A friend was with me at the time, with little experience. I was walking to the pen exit after a quick rub, giving her some release and some space, and suddenly I was on the ground outside the pen.
According to my dear friend, as I turned my back to pick up a bucket, she turned so fast he could barely comprehend it. Both feet went sailing into my back. Before he could react she had given me a good stamp on the leg. By all accounts, an outright attack. He went on to the fence with a 2×4 to chase her out and dragged me out by the legs. I had come to just as he was about to run for the house.
I was severely bruised, and aching. This was the final straw for me. I put her up for sale and went to my father. I laid it out. She was up for sale. That was it. If he wasn’t happy with the price we got, I would sell my other horses, one by one, until he was happy, and if that wasn’t good enough then I would pay him out of the small job I held- it was only $80 a month after feed, but it was his until he was satisfied. At this point, I could hardly walk.
She wasn’t touched until the buyer came. I was honest on every account. I mentioned every fence climb, every hurt and ache, and admitted my inexperience. I even said she would go for meat soon as nobody wanted her.
When sale day came, I stood, shaking, by my dads desk and asked for help catching her. My dad – 6 feet tall, strong, never lost a fight, able to move mountains – was dragged. Twice. Across the field once and across the road once. She was tied to our trailer to wait.
The woman was easy. In fact, she got this mare blanketed before on the trailer and she was gone. $600 my dad made, and a saddle. (Which I later sold for another $600.) A $500 horse, and in total we made $1200. My dad was appeased, however, I’ll never forget his words.
“Should be buying horses for her. I bet she knows what’s shes doing.”
I got a message a few months later. Swearing, kicking up a storm; I learned face to face the value of being honest and “as is” on your bill of sale, and thank god I did both. I heard her out, though, if only to prove to my father that I was right about this mare.
She had already contacted the trainer who had this horse previously. The trainers words: “never got on her. Couldn’t get on her. In all my years this is the only horse I would describe as psychotic.” But in the new owners mind, if this trainer never rode this mare, then that didnt explain why this horse never stopped wanting to buck. So to me she came. And I reiterated I had never gotten on her either, that I could barely get groundwork done, that I never made progress. And the new owners story came out.
3 months she spent in the arena and on trails. The horse was always tense under saddle, always cold backed. But she had seen worse. One day she went to check cows, and this mare bucked like she had a flank strap. She was miles out and horseless. The horse was missing for 3 days. When found again, the saddle was destroyed, the bridle was destroyed, and getting back on the horse was like getting on a feral tiger. Her 3 months were scrapped.
The horse went for meat. She spent $1200 and barely scratched the surface at $200. Prices were down. And the horse had returned to being unable to eat.
A few weeks later I contacted the breeder. Here’s the crazy thing. She was a dystocia birth. They always advertised weaklings as halter broke, and ready to start work at their yearly sale. This one was a cull. No good. Had maybe spent too much time in the birth canal as far as he reckoned. Was originally sold to a meat truck, where someone offered twice the money he had spent on her because she was “just too pretty and look at those eyes – too sweet!”
I’m wary, now, of the rescues. And the roans. Anything with Hancock. Anything that came from a ranch that didnt sign their work – no brand on her but one on the other? They didn’t want to put their stamp on a mistake.
I had the pleasure of mentoring under someone as my college year. A beautiful program that you show up with a horse and you learn to train. When I got there, I was awful. When I left, I was too of my class. It took 2 years, one of which was a year I spent 6+ hours in the day in the saddle, to get over my fear of stepping up. I was again blessed with a good boy. A sleek, small bay all the way from Manitoba with a good heart and better breeding – proving to me the value of papers. He did buck once or twice, but I deserved it – looking back, he was telling me I was dead wrong with my signals. Now, hes a babysitter. My niece rides right in front, overjoyed. I use him on other colts that I start, snub them up or pony them off. I’ve used him as a pickup among friends, to rope and doctor cattle, to do some cutting and penning, for trail rides among friends. He is a saint of a horse I will never sell, and sitting here typing this, pregnant with my first, I know he will make one hell of a first horse.
After my year of college, I spent a number of months training in a stable. I started many in a small span, and some fear was still present, but they’ve turned into sale-ready colts.
And now I’ve bought another horse again, for the first time since my college prospect. A little red mare. A little ugly, but she rides like shes seen it all. In a month I brought her from not-handled to riding in the arena, and only a previous miscarriage and a current risk pregnancy has kept me from riding again; but I know come next summer i wont have any fear with her, because shes proven herself to me to be willing to learn.
To get over my fear, I quit telling myself I was good enough and made myself good enough. I dedicated all my time energy and money to being better. I struggled every step until I didnt, and only then did I step up. I wont ever put myself in a “need” position again – never will I need to make that money, need to get em rode, need to just do it. And, silly as it may be, I will never, ever, EVER, set foot on a red roan or a Hancock again. Just to keep my peace of mind. I have made it through post concussion syndrome and a broken wrist and countless unnecessary aches and pains. The biggest thing to remember?
You already did the scary thing. And you’re still alive. Everything after this should be easy.
Gonna be honest with you, that was a hard read. You are a survivor and have proven just what we’ll do when riding really matters. Thank you for sharing your story about how the perfect storm is so often set up through our relationships with the people who are calling the shots… and how we somehow do what we have to do. I hope your riding continues to be a soft place for you, bringing you nothing but joy.
Thank you for this amazing, life- and lesson-filled story. It is so good to hear that after those terrifying experiences at a youth you found a solid program at college and in the job starting colts. Best wishes with your pregnancy and motherhood. Just a note from one who has been there, filled with ambition and longing: take the time needed for safety for yourself or your child, even if it means a horse is not worked. (But also: sending hope that people will be there for you taking care your child so you can work with your horses.) This story will be in my mind and I will always be wishing you the best and sending affirmation that you are wonderful and you can do it, step by step, and with wisdom at the heart of it that you so amply display. I expect that you will have many people to help and be helped by, along the way. If anyone says something to you that reminds you of your dad, you’ll know that is something you can absolutely ignore and walk away from.
– Just another anonymous commenter who was deeply touched by what you wrote
Hi. It’s been 10 yrs since I had a horse related moderate head/brain injury. When I say horse related; I had a mare that was permanently lame due to a wire cut on her front fetlock but I rode her occasionally. Broke oldest rule in corral and tied her to a rail, long story short, puppy nipped her nose, she pulled back and off came rail hitting me in the head. After a month in hospital I wanted to get right back on, but on my other horses. At first I was coming up with excuses for their behavior; shying, herd bound and general pushing limits as to what they wanted to do. As a few months went on I decided they were picking up on my lack of confidence from the injury so I bit the bullet ‘use it or lose it’ attitude and worked on taking back control. Hung John Waynes picture and quote in the barn which reads something like: Courage is when you are scared to death and sadde up anyway. I have passed on a couple of horses that weren’t fitting into my program and felt ok about it and now down to 3 that are pretty reliable and I can work on any issues that come up with them. So working on my fear level took time, patience and courage.
Carol, thanks for sharing. We think of ‘riding injury’ but so often, it’s something innocent that goes wrong just while we’re around them. I understand your use of the John Wayne quote and picture, although for me, it strikes a little too close to home. A lifetime of being bullied into being better has me just about done with being scared to death and saddling up anyway! But to each her own and I’m so glad that you shared your story today. Your trilogy of “time, patience and courage”… is a good reminder for any one of us hoping for a quick fix.
It’s been four months since I sold my horse and it’s been a struggle.
I was caught by surprise by the level of fear that showed itself when I didn’t have to keep a lid on it anymore, simply getting on a steady lesson horse required every ounce of courage that I had. Thankfully, though, my coach turned my lessons into therapy lessons and we took it very slow. I’m riding again now, on a seasoned, gentle, kind mare and enjoying it, though I catch myself all the time expecting a reaction or poor behaviour because that is what I was used to. I was so conditioned to being on guard.
I also didn’t expect the guilt that is relentless, “if only I’d listened to myself, I knew what to do.” “You’re such a chicken to quit, you could have done it.” It is hard to beat these internal judgements down but I’ve learned to switch things around, and when these thoughts try to hammer at me I reply “isn’t it great that I did know what to do, wow, I knew more than I thought I did!” or “look at it Diana, you did everything you were able to do, you found your horse a better home, and now she’s happier too.” Its a steady job keeping a healthy mindset but its getting easier.
Four months later my goal is to celebrate all the good things I did for my former horse and LET HER GO so I don’t saddle my new horse with the former horse’s troubles. It’s a work in progress but I’m making headway.
Almost all my riding life I’ve been over horsed, I was used to it, expected it, and thought I was less than if I said no thanks. There really are no words for the relief of riding a well trained, gentle, kind, and willing horse and I’m so glad to be here and not back where I was. I’ve graduated to free leasing the horse I had lessons on and I’m so happy! and allowing myself all the time I need! and taking care of me! I will always be grateful for Keystone Equine and Lee, you were the catalyst that got me to this really happy place in life, thank you!
Diana, thank you for this. You are living proof that we can rely on our good judgment and we can climb out the other side. I’m so glad that you’re still riding. Is it any less riding if we’re doing it as therapy, with trusted people and trusted horses? Of course not! Thank you for sharing your story and I’m glad that even at a distance, I was able to play a small part.
I grew up riding. I love horses.
Years ago, I was looking for one and I found one. He was beautiful and I could do anything with him on the ground. He had issues and I was told he was going to bolt or roll when you got on him. Ok, into the round pen we go, climb aboard, getting my feet set, he absolutely exploded. Tore the reins out of my hand and wow could he buck. I lasted about 6 seconds and as we know where we look is where we land. Well into the upright post went the entire right side of my body. Thank goodness I put my arm up or it would have been my head that hit it. Slunk to the ground. Got my breath and got up. Black horse had quit, I remember thinking, shoot I need to get back on…..thank goodness I did not have the strength to. Called the seller and advised they misrepresented him and he is dangerous. Sitting at a rodeo in the spring, there erupts a big black bucker……I was told they thought he had quit bucking, apparently not. Unethical, absolutely (too bad there are many like them)
So fear absolutely and it is not reasonable. I am now blessed with the absolute right horses for me and when I bought a level headed 4 year old I sent her to the right trainer. Am I confident – no, but realizing that fear is controlling you is very scary and messes with everything. I love your articles and thank you for letting me know I am not alone:)
Kelly, you are SO not alone! I think if anything good comes from visiting this hard topic, it’s that others’ willingness to share their vulnerability tells us that we’re in mighty fine company. Those old habits of ‘getting back in the saddle’ and ‘showing him who’s boss’ don’t die down easily. Thank you for sharing your story and well done for finding a new trainer that you and your horse can trust. Keep on keepin’ on!
Lee, I love reading your blogs…they provide very good advice and I feel like you could be a trusted friend (the voice of reason, lol). I could write a very long history of my life experience which has a lot to do with the choices I make, both good and not so good. Briefly, I was raised by alcoholic parents. Unfortunately, there was no guidance or anyone watching out for me or the choices I was making. There was no money for horses but they were my obsession. I started working at a young age so I could find a way to have my own horse. I don’t have to tell you what level of trained horse I could afford. I could not even afford a saddle for several months so had to borrow or ride bareback. Although the horses I rode when I was young were unsafe and not trained properly….Looking back at that time in my life, I know for certain that having horses helped keep me off the path that I might have otherwise gone. There were no riding lessons but I learned to hang on! The blessing of having a horse throughout my life has depended on my personal circumstances. Children, work and finances have played a role in whether I could afford to. During my 30’s, I was very fortunate to have a very well trained horse that built my confidence to the point where I was showing regularly and doing very well. I have worked at a stressful job my entire life and, at age 54 (just before retirement from work) I felt it was the time for me to get back fully into horse ownership. I rushed out and bought a horse after being completely away from horses for 15 years. I believed she would be a good fit. A couple months later, after riding in a ring, I was heading back to the gate. I was wearing my helmet! I made the error of stopping riding as we were just walking back. I relaxed, dropped my reins and completely took my mind off riding my horse when suddenly she bolted without any warning. She took off at a full gallop and I lost my balance. I was behind her and although I had stayed on her I knew I was in trouble. The one other rider in the ring horse had also spooked. She was telling me to ‘pull one rein’ but I was terrified that I would cause her to stumble and roll. In the back of my racing mind I knew that I should have tried to get her into a smaller circle but I was so off balance and did not have my seat at all. It happened so fast. My last recall was, I am in deep trouble here and I don’t want to be dragged if I come off…and then my next recall is coming to at the opposite end of the ring on my back. I now understand that I suffered a mild traumatic brain Injury. The other rider was just relieved that I was up and around. I managed to get myself up with my head swirling in circles. I was shocked and embarrassed. I had hurt my low back and my pride. I limped around putting my horse away. I then got into my vehicle and started driving down the highway. As I was driving home, I started to shake uncontrollably and the pain in my back became excruciating. I was so scared that maybe I had done something more serious to my back and I drove myself to the hospital. I vomited for three days afterwards and had a severely bruised sacrum. I also had retrograde amnesia. I was instructed that I could not ride at all or do anything around horses for at least two months, the danger being a subsequent concussion. I was off work for two months, I decided to sell my horse because I felt I would never be able to trust her again. I also felt that maybe I was just too old to be riding. Since that time, I have developed a huge fear of horses when loping/galloping. I have no recall of how I came off my horse to this day…I always have thought that it would help me if I could remember everything that happened. Fast forward five years and I thought I could overcome my fear by getting myself another horse. Once again, I bought another horse that was unsuitable. A very good minded gelding, but young and green. I have since rehomed him and now just help a lady out with caring for her two senior horses. I really appreciate your advice about not getting another horse to alleviate the fear I have developed. Here I sit, turning 60 in two weeks, and still passionate about horses and riding. I will take your advice and look for an instructor…I know my safety is critical given my age. I also know that my own physical abilities have diminished despite my good heath just because I am aging. My passion for horses and riding remains the same! Thanks for your insights Lee! Please keep on writing and sharing!
Leslie, you are so brave. Look at all you have overcome in your lifetime, starting from a difficult childhood to a demanding job. Aren’t horses amazing, the hold they have over us from our earliest memory? I understand this. I’m so sorry you were hurt. These things happen so fast, you must forgive yourself for not reacting in a different way. The ‘rebound’ theory of buying unsuitable horses – one after the other – is so similar to when we get mixed up with bad men or toxic friendships. Until we understand where we go wrong, where our needs lie, we will keep repeating the problem. As you’ve found out, the answer lies in loving ourselves tenderly until we’re ready to find a trustworthy teacher who will look after our stories and help us get beyond. Thank you for encouraging me with my writing. You keep on riding, y’hear?
Lee,
I forgot to add to my post that despite all the hardships I went through, horses were truly a sanctuary for me…they gave me peace. Fear is the only thing that has derailed my passion. Maybe it is fear paired up with an aging body that makes it so hard to overcome. Many thanks, Leslie
Our passion for horses is probably the thing that hurts most behind our fear, Leslie. I have a fear of dentistry… but because it is not my passion to have my teeth fixed, it’s just what it is. When a thing we love goes bad, it just feels like such a waste, such a betrayal.
I’m having trouble getting the “Like” button to work, so I’ll comment instead. This is powerful, Lee, as are the stories here and on the FB page.
Hmmm. I wanna be liked, just like everybody else, so that’s a shame! Seriously, though, thank you, Kerry. Behind all of us with our smiling faces, all our boots ‘n’ jeans, are some very tough stories. We are a group of survivors… the trick is to get back some of the ol’ joy.
Dear Lee
I’m going to do this for you and anyone it might help…I have never opened up about it before now. 20 years ago I was looking for a horse for my then 6yr old daughter. the owner said she was born with an old soul, anyone can ride her, born here, trained here. great husband horse too, blah blah. I went to see and try. she looked old and was so quiet. the owner saddled up 2 horses as I watched. she kept hold of the black until I was mounted. the second she let go and walked away the black exploded! I remember seeing the eaves of barn roof as I went up and felt the ice as I landed. when I woke up I had no idea what happened! I got up and drove myself home. I just sat there and honked until my husband came out. he drove me to the hospital. I had blown 2 discs, fractured 2 vertebrae, hairline fracture in the sacrum and nearly snapped my tailbone off. months of healing and a fear of getting hurt. the horses I had at the time were family. dream horses! I would be doing chores and if the horse sneezed I would either freeze or jump out my skin scaring the horse and making things worse! this went on for a long time. not to mention my family would say they’re dangerous you can’t ride anymore!!! funny nobody ever told me not to vacuum or haul loads of laundry up and down the stairs. my body ached but my heart ached so much worse. I’m doing chores very late one night. my big beautiful gelding shot by me into his stall so fast and stood as far away from me as he could as I hung the buckets. I knew I was hurting him with my fear. it all came rushing at me all at once. I slid down the wall and cried like I have never cried in my life. I fell asleep in his stall. I was just exhausted. I was supposed to be the horse person. the teacher, the trainer, you know. anyways I woke up 3 hours later and my gelding was laying beside me. it did wonders for me mentally!! the next day I saddled up and went for a ride. he was my sweet guy as always. it took awhile but I overcame my fear thanks to him. he passed nearly a year ago. There are no words for how much i miss him. Now I’m so much more careful when looking to buy. if it’s not right then I make it right by returning or selling. I hid everything for so long because that is how I was raised. My mom taught us to be strong women who never showed pain or tears. I’ve been suffering with chronic pain ever since. I manage it and I’ve learned to tell my family when I’ve had enough. I wish I hadn’t kept it bottled up. it didn’t help me or my family. maybe opening up and talking would have helped me sooner. I also started doing things to make me stronger. I started roller blading and kayaking. I even pulled my motorcycle out of the garage and went for a ride. I think we need to figure out exactly what the fear is. Is it a fear of horses or is it the pain. For me it was pain. It wasn’t one of my horses that hurt me but yet I was scared. So I no longer train young horses, I won’t help or get on a horse with a bad habits. I ride for the sheer joy of riding and being with horses.
Shelley, thank you so much for bravely sharing your story. Fear is so hard to get a handle on… even when we know that our horses have not caused our pain, we still can be afraid. I like your advice to keep active and strengthening our bodies because if we don’t use ’em, we sure lose ’em. An inability to freely mount and dismount, you know, swinging our right leg clear of the horse and cantle, is a major cause of wrecks. Staying active in different ways will surely help. Thank you for trusting us all with your story… and for showing someone really struggling right now that they’re not alone.
Lee, you have done a great service to the very brave folks who have posted their stories. Thank you for starting the conversation and giving a safe haven to our tribe.