thoughts on a quiet night
Recently, when trying to explain to my roommate why I feel socially awkward, she pointed out that I was never awkward with her. Now here's the thing - I definitely felt awkward, but apparently managed to contain in so that in pretending to not be uncomfortable, I eventually became comfortable. In the past, I've occasionally had people tell me that they never thought I was awkward or shy when I first met them, despite what is usually going on inside my head. Now maybe those people are just less perceptive than others, but I don't really think that's the case. Maybe I'm more socially competent than I think I am. Let's just let me tell myself that so I can feel good for a little while.
So far my Spring Break has involved a lot of fabulous time with a lot of fabulous horses. I love my horse. 1.5 years ago, when I bought Max, I would have committed to him anyway, even if I wasn't emotionally attached to him, because he's sensible, suited to his job, and good for my riding. But every time I handle him I fall more in love, and am more and more grateful that i am so amazingly lucky to have him. Along those same lines, what better job could I possibly have? I love that even still I am filled with such respect and wonder at these animals, as much as when I was a little girl. I also love that a good ride can still make me feel on top of the world. The other day I was cantering around on Largo, a really incredible horse belonging to one of the clients at the barn, and I just started giggling. I couldn't contain my joy. What did I do in a former life to be graced with this?
When Eddie (my horse in high school) died my senior year, I kept part of his tail in a braid as a memory. I kept it hidden away because looking at it or touching it made the hurt too raw. I hated smelling it because it smelled like the operating room at the equine hospital, and not like him. It smelled like death to me. I finally am able to see that token and just remember him, and smile, and feel ok. It doesn't undo me anymore, it just reminds me. It's now on my wall, next to some pictures of him that Ram took two weeks before he died, also out in the open for really the first time. It feels good. It feels like I've healed.
So far my Spring Break has involved a lot of fabulous time with a lot of fabulous horses. I love my horse. 1.5 years ago, when I bought Max, I would have committed to him anyway, even if I wasn't emotionally attached to him, because he's sensible, suited to his job, and good for my riding. But every time I handle him I fall more in love, and am more and more grateful that i am so amazingly lucky to have him. Along those same lines, what better job could I possibly have? I love that even still I am filled with such respect and wonder at these animals, as much as when I was a little girl. I also love that a good ride can still make me feel on top of the world. The other day I was cantering around on Largo, a really incredible horse belonging to one of the clients at the barn, and I just started giggling. I couldn't contain my joy. What did I do in a former life to be graced with this?
When Eddie (my horse in high school) died my senior year, I kept part of his tail in a braid as a memory. I kept it hidden away because looking at it or touching it made the hurt too raw. I hated smelling it because it smelled like the operating room at the equine hospital, and not like him. It smelled like death to me. I finally am able to see that token and just remember him, and smile, and feel ok. It doesn't undo me anymore, it just reminds me. It's now on my wall, next to some pictures of him that Ram took two weeks before he died, also out in the open for really the first time. It feels good. It feels like I've healed.