The Whole Picture

It's amazing to me how sometimes Seemingly Unrelated Things in your life may in fact be Super Related Things.

Back in February, I decided I was done moping around and making martyrish remarks about the fact that I had been out of the equestrian world for years. I contacted a local trainer/barn owner, and was able to take a lesson on a very kind and patient Trakehner gelding. It was the first time my butt had touched an Dressage saddle in about 5 years, and I was ecstatic.

I was also terrified.

Seems a little strange, doesn't it? Horses have always been my one great passion in life. I have dedicated countless hours to pursuing knowledge and experience in the equine world. But, while my soul took a sigh of relief at the simple prospect of swinging up in to the tack, my imagination was suddenly running wild in the opposite direction.

At first, I tried to dismiss my anxiety, thinking that acknowledging it would only make things worse. I did my best to ignore my increased heart rate, sweaty palms, and upset stomach. Cowboy Up, right? My very first English riding instructor was a former cavalry officer, and riding lessons with him were an exercise in discipline and guts. I learned at a young age to stuff my feelings and put on my game face. Ignoring my sudden and unfamiliar anxiety wasn't working, though, and things started to get worse.

The butterflies turned into killer bees, and I soon found myself standing on the mounting block and shaking with fear, unable to actually put a foot in the stirrup. When I would finally get on (after minutes of mentally berating myself for being a coward, mind you), I would be as rigid as a board and would have to stand at a halt for a few long minutes while I attempted to get control of my breathing.

My anxiety continued to worsen, and finally got so bad that one day I made the 40-minute drive to the barn only to turn around and drive right back home without even getting out of my car. I was physically ill, and was experiencing such pervasive nausea that I went so far as to take a home pregnancy test (it was negative, of course).

I started seeking advice from other horse people, spent hours reading online articles on fear, and took another lesson with my trainer that simply consisted of us riding together and talking. The lesson helped me considerably, mostly because continually talking meant my breathing was regulated, and it gave me something to focus on other than the all-consuming fear that had taken over my brain. I still wasn't fully relaxed and confident, though, and the anxiety was back full force the next time I went riding. The nausea kept getting worse and worse, and had become a 24/7 symptom.

Since ignoring it didn't work, and reading online articles didn't fix anything, I attempted to "figure out" the root of my anxiety. The only thing I could logically come up with was my weight. Because I was 30 lbs heavier than the last time I seriously rode, I decided that it was my weight and fitness level that were causing me such distress. So, my new mantra became "I love myself where I'm at, and I'll love myself where I'm at tomorrow."

Something still wasn't quite right, though. The nausea just wouldn't go away. Some days I might be able to trot a circle, but other days I was still unable to simply walk without hyperventilating.

Then, at the end of March, I quit my job.

As abruptly as a power outage, all of the anxiety I was experiencing disappeared. The nausea stopped within minutes of my resignation - so abruptly that I was consciously aware of it. I went to the barn the next day and didn't even bat an eye at the 40 mph wind gusts that were gracing the area. I didn't stall out at the mounting block. I trotted all over the damn arena instead of staying on a safe 20m circle at one end. My horse spooked at some barrels that tipped over, and instead of panicking/getting off/avoiding that end of the arena, I simply laughed and walked him over to the barrels so he could investigate them to his heart's content.


 So, what the hell happened? Why did I suddenly go from Nervous Nellie to Xena, Warrior Princess?

It was my job.

See, my job situation had become uncomfortable, to put it lightly. My supervisor had said several inappropriate things to me, and there was a business trip was looming in the distance that I was dreading because it meant he and I would be alone together. Things got so bad that I made the decision to quit, even though I didn't have a new job lined up.

Now, I'm not a psychologist. I can't explain why my job anxiety decided to manifest as a fear of the thing I loved the most. All I know is that it did happen.

It's funny, because many horse people seem to make a hobby out of looking for correlations, whether they make sense or not....
"He hates me because all of his blankets are pink."
"She's dull today, so she must've worn herself out in her paddock last night."
"He kicks out at the whip, so someone must've abused him before I bought him."
"Your horse is snarky all the time? Probably ulcers. Have you had him scoped?"

Seriously, though.
Horse is fussy under saddle? We check teeth, saddle fit, bridle fit, bit fit, have the chiro out, evaluate feed and supplements, call the vet and ask about ulcers. When our horse colics, we wrack our brain trying to come up with a reason - too much feed, not enough feed, wrong kind of feed, poor hay, too good of hay, not enough turnout, turnout with the wrong pasture mates, barometric pressure, new horse on the property, old buddy left the property, the sun is out, the sun is hiding, it's raining, it's snowing....you all know what I mean.

I wonder, though, how many of us take the time to think about how our life away from the barn may be affecting our life at the barn. Riding takes a special blend of physical skill, mental prowess, and emotional stability. If just one of those is off-kilter, it's like riding a tricycle with a flat tire. If more than one is causing you trouble? Better call AAA!

So, the next time you're hitting a brick wall with your horse (metaphorically, I hope!) take a few seconds of reflection on your entire life. Is there something giving you trouble in another arena (pun intended)? It may not be logically/directly related to your horse, but chances are it could be impacting your riding in a very big way. The good news, though, is that once you've identified a problem, you can fix it! The old adage "Plan Your Ride & Ride Your Plan" works surprisingly well for situations of the saddle, too. ;-)

Trying

Fear is a funny creature. Fear tied to Body Image is giant and overwhelming monster.

My current battle in a lifetime war with my own mind is Fear. My Fear of the Moment seems to be using an AA gun filled with Body Image Worries to shoot down my Plane of Confidence.

My issues with my body started young. I clearly recall being 12 years old, still in jods and years away from my first pair of field boots. Back then, I was very new to English riding, having taken 7 or so years of lessons in a Western saddle before my parents let me switch disciplines. I was a Barn Rat in those days. My mom would drop me off around 0700 hrs every Saturday, and I would clean tack and do stable chores with several other kids my age in order to earn extra ride time. I loved it.

I had also never given a thought to my size, height, or shape, prior to one fateful summer day at the barn.

I was standing in front of a stall, soaking up some equine therapy by admiring a big bay Thoroughbred that was boarded there. A couple of older riders were nearby, discussing a boarder that hadn't been to the barn in a while. The conversation went something like this:

"Hey, have you heard from so-and-so lately? I haven't seen her around."
"She's doing okay - but she's as big as a whale! Her belly is so huge that she can't even see her feet anymore!"
"Oh, wow, I would kill myself if I ever got that big, pregnant or not!" 

Couldn't see her feet? I thought to myself. I carefully glanced over at them, and for the first time in my life I looked at their Bodies. They were all thin, and their breeches seemed to flatter their long, graceful legs. Their shirts were tucked in, and there was a smooth, seamless transition from their waists to their hips. They looked so elegant to me, those women.

Later that night, when I got home, I studied myself in the mirror before taking a shower. I tucked my shirt into my jodhpurs, and was crushed to see Lumpiness between my waist and my hips instead of the subtle, smooth curve I had been expecting. My hips seemed to bulge out, and I noticed that instead of a flat stomach like the ladies at the barn, mine sort of stuck out.

Concerned, I took my clothes off and stared at myself in the mirror. I noticed an indented line in my skin where the elastic on my bra and underwear had pressed into me. I had weird lines on my abdomen, that were turning into angry red stripes - at the time, I didn't know what these were, but I later found out they were stretch marks due to me hitting puberty + shooting up in height and weight at a crazy fast rate - so fast that my pediatrician thought I was going to be over 6' tall (I have been 5'5 since I was 12).
And then, the true test: I looked down at my feet.
I was devastated to discover that I could barely see my toes.

Ashamed, I got into the shower and cried while I washed off the dirt from my day at the barn.  Until that day, the physical differences between me and the pretty, older hunter riders that I idolized, had been invisible to me. Now I found myself unable to ignore them.

The next time I went to the barn, I looked at every one of my peers in a totally different light. Nearly all of them were thin and petite. I, on the other hand, was 5'5" tall, was wearing a size 10/12 and wearing a B-cup, even though I wasn't even a teenager yet. In fact, when I was a Senior in High School, I could still fit into pants that I wore when I was between the ages of 12-13. I got my first period on my 10th birthday.

I felt so awkward. It was like my body didn't fit anywhere. I wasn't thin, yet I wasn't obese. I didn't have a flat stomach, yet I still had a defined waist. But because I didn't look like the thin, graceful riders I admired, I categorized myself as Fat and Gross.

And I have struggled with the damaging mental side effects of identifying myself by those 2 words for the past 2 decades.

I went to a small high school, and I was the only one there that really had an hourglass figure. Sure, there were students much heavier than me, but I still didn't "fit" into the Thin category, in my mind. I would overhear girls talking about their weight # and feel sick to my stomach at how much more I weighed than they did.  Adults, especially women, would constantly tell me how beautiful my figure was, but I couldn't really accept what they were saying. I wasn't a perfect size 2, so how could I have a gorgeous figure? My brain just rejected that idea. It breaks my heart that Teenager Me couldn't see how gorgeous I really was.

Since then, my weight has been a roller coaster. I lost a bunch of weight in my early 20's and had nice muscle definition in my legs. I then gained 80+ lbs due to an emotionally stressful pregnancy that required me to be bedridden. Afterwards, I slowly progressed down into the 180's, then the 170's, then the 160's, and I finally felt comfortable in my own skin. Then I rocketed back up to nearly 200 again. Slowly peeled it back down to where I felt confident in myself, but over the past 4 months I have packed on 30 pounds again and feel pretty awful about my physique.

How is this relevant to Fear? Because I have noticed that how I view my body directly impacts how confident I am, especially when it comes to riding.
When I am heavy, I consciously feel my wobbly belly, my chubby arms, and the discomfort of my breeches and half-chaps not fitting me.
When I consciously feel what I define as my shortcomings, I mentally berate myself.
When I mentally berate myself, I feel anxious, depressed, and uncomfortable.
When I feel anxious, depressed, and uncomfortable, I don't trust myself or my skills.
When I don't trust myself or my skills, we have a problem.

So, that's where I'm at right now. I don't trust my skills in the saddle. It is the most frustrating and debilitating thing I have ever experienced. It doesn't help that until last month, I had only been on a horse 3 times in the last 4 years - a far cry from riding nearly every day for many years prior to that, so not only am I fighting a weird, new body that Feels Wrong, I am also dealing with the fact that things that used to Feel Normal (basic shit like TROTTING) now feel like Mount Everest.

But, over the past couple of days, I have been Fighting Back. I am learning to be okay with small accomplishments, like getting on without someone holding my horse for me. Or, sometimes, for just getting on - instead of arriving at the barn and being so paralyzed by fear that I can't get out of the car. I am slowly coming to terms with the idea that it is Okay just to Walk and Trot a few steps, instead of trying to ride the entire Training Test 1.

I have also decided that it is Totally Fine to talk to my horse constantly, even if it's gibberish, because I know that talking means my breathing will stay normal, and I will transmit less anxiety to the patient and lovely horse that is currently taking care of me as I venture back into the World of Dressage.

So, I'll be the one out there whose right half-chap still won't quite zip up all the way, who has some Muffin Top action going on right now, and who is telling her horse all about her day...because that's who I am and where I'm at right now.

And I'm becoming more and more okay with that every day.