Rupture & Repair
It's been a while since I posted here, but I hadn't realized it was quite so long. I just re-read some of my posts and feel a mixture of joy, pride and relief. Reba and I have been working hard and we have come a long way.
When I go out to the paddock to get her these days, she will usually come to the gate to greet me. She no longer wails to her friends or puts her brakes on with every step. Occasionally, she'll let me know that she's not really in the mood to do any work by walking slower, or turning her head back towards the hay bale longingly. Mostly, she'll happily follow me into the barn. I feel much more connected to my girl these days, so that when I'm with her, I'm no longer questioning if she is the 'right' horse for me. Feels akin to that 'aha' moment years ago when I became aware of my assumption that disagreements in any relationship means breaking up. These days, I'm much more able to tolerate a difference of opinion with my mare, without assuming that I've made a mistake and that she might not be 'The One'. Of course, when I say 'these days', I have to remind myself that it's actually only in the last couple of months, and primarily because of what I now refer to as the 'Incident'.
A week or so before Christmas, Reba freaked out at nothing whilst I was grooming her. Her lead rope was loosely threaded through a tie-ring on the outside of the arena wall. As she spooked, she backed up and pulled against her lead rope, which somehow got stuck. Her eyes widened as she went into full blown panic. In that moment, I saw her looking at me through her terror and I froze; it was too dangerous to go closer to try and untangle her, and she was too far 'gone' for me to try and calm her. So whilst I tried to verbally soothe her, she kept pulling and backing away until the wall fell down.
Quite frankly, I don't think I'd ever been so terrified in all my life. I watched in horror as the wall collapsed and her survival instincts kicked in and she nimbly leapt out of the way backwards, span around and ran out of the barn. By the time I gathered my wits and ran outside, I found her standing underneath the trees on the far side of the paddock, quietly grazing; she had already shaken off the trauma and found her equilibrium. Meanwhile, adrenalin was still pumping through my body and I was shaken to the core. As I approached Reba, she looked at me and pricked up her ears. I'm certain now that she could feel the 'danger' that I was still embodying. So she turned and walked away from me.
Huh.
Eventually, I was able to self regulate enough to allow the panic to flow out of my body; enough, at any rate, for Reba to feel that I was safe enough to be around, and she allowed me to approach her and bring her back into the barn.
This 'Incident' represented a turning point for me in our relationship. Again, it was this issue of trust that we'd been working on. Up until the Incident, we had been making steady progress. I felt that we were more connected, both on the ground and in the saddle. I felt that we were really getting to know each other, and I'd been working hard on being clearer and more consistent with her. I was thrilled that I'd just found a dressage saddle that fit us both perfectly, and that had been helping me to be clearer with my aids in the saddle. I was feeling like we were finally beginning to gel.
For a few days after the Incident, I felt like I was back to square one. Whilst I knew that what happened wasn't a malicious act on her part, it made me wary of her actions. I was nervous around her, which made her unsure of me. I was hesitant about getting on and obviously didn't trust her with anything. Every movement Reba made came under suspicion; was she about to do something crazy? I felt like I was walking on egg shells. All the while, I knew cognitively that I was in danger of entering a dangerous spiral. I needed to make a decision - was the Incident the final straw? Is Reba too dangerous? Is she too much for me to handle? Was it time to give up and look for another horse? Or could I somehow remind myself that we were on the right track and this was just a set back? Could I stay the course with her, despite this Incident?
It dawned on me then that Trust isn't the only thing that's essential in this relationship. Trust means nothing without Commitment.
So I made the conscious choice to Commit. With a capital C. I opened up my heart to her in the full knowledge that Reba is not perfect by any means, and neither am I. I committed to her mind, body and soul, to be her caretaker, her champion and her partner. Trusting that she could feel this shift in me; that I wasn't going to give up on her, I went to the barn the next day and rode her bareback, with a rope halter and snap on reins. Reba responded with softness and a gentle eye. When I got off, she put her head on my shoulder and just rested there. Recognizing that this was just the beginning of repairing the rupture, I was thankful for that gesture. Each day since then, I have been holding gratitude that Reba didn't give up on me, and that I decided to make that commitment to her.
When I go out to the paddock to get her these days, she will usually come to the gate to greet me. She no longer wails to her friends or puts her brakes on with every step. Occasionally, she'll let me know that she's not really in the mood to do any work by walking slower, or turning her head back towards the hay bale longingly. Mostly, she'll happily follow me into the barn. I feel much more connected to my girl these days, so that when I'm with her, I'm no longer questioning if she is the 'right' horse for me. Feels akin to that 'aha' moment years ago when I became aware of my assumption that disagreements in any relationship means breaking up. These days, I'm much more able to tolerate a difference of opinion with my mare, without assuming that I've made a mistake and that she might not be 'The One'. Of course, when I say 'these days', I have to remind myself that it's actually only in the last couple of months, and primarily because of what I now refer to as the 'Incident'.
A week or so before Christmas, Reba freaked out at nothing whilst I was grooming her. Her lead rope was loosely threaded through a tie-ring on the outside of the arena wall. As she spooked, she backed up and pulled against her lead rope, which somehow got stuck. Her eyes widened as she went into full blown panic. In that moment, I saw her looking at me through her terror and I froze; it was too dangerous to go closer to try and untangle her, and she was too far 'gone' for me to try and calm her. So whilst I tried to verbally soothe her, she kept pulling and backing away until the wall fell down.
Quite frankly, I don't think I'd ever been so terrified in all my life. I watched in horror as the wall collapsed and her survival instincts kicked in and she nimbly leapt out of the way backwards, span around and ran out of the barn. By the time I gathered my wits and ran outside, I found her standing underneath the trees on the far side of the paddock, quietly grazing; she had already shaken off the trauma and found her equilibrium. Meanwhile, adrenalin was still pumping through my body and I was shaken to the core. As I approached Reba, she looked at me and pricked up her ears. I'm certain now that she could feel the 'danger' that I was still embodying. So she turned and walked away from me.
Huh.
Eventually, I was able to self regulate enough to allow the panic to flow out of my body; enough, at any rate, for Reba to feel that I was safe enough to be around, and she allowed me to approach her and bring her back into the barn.
This 'Incident' represented a turning point for me in our relationship. Again, it was this issue of trust that we'd been working on. Up until the Incident, we had been making steady progress. I felt that we were more connected, both on the ground and in the saddle. I felt that we were really getting to know each other, and I'd been working hard on being clearer and more consistent with her. I was thrilled that I'd just found a dressage saddle that fit us both perfectly, and that had been helping me to be clearer with my aids in the saddle. I was feeling like we were finally beginning to gel.
For a few days after the Incident, I felt like I was back to square one. Whilst I knew that what happened wasn't a malicious act on her part, it made me wary of her actions. I was nervous around her, which made her unsure of me. I was hesitant about getting on and obviously didn't trust her with anything. Every movement Reba made came under suspicion; was she about to do something crazy? I felt like I was walking on egg shells. All the while, I knew cognitively that I was in danger of entering a dangerous spiral. I needed to make a decision - was the Incident the final straw? Is Reba too dangerous? Is she too much for me to handle? Was it time to give up and look for another horse? Or could I somehow remind myself that we were on the right track and this was just a set back? Could I stay the course with her, despite this Incident?
It dawned on me then that Trust isn't the only thing that's essential in this relationship. Trust means nothing without Commitment.
So I made the conscious choice to Commit. With a capital C. I opened up my heart to her in the full knowledge that Reba is not perfect by any means, and neither am I. I committed to her mind, body and soul, to be her caretaker, her champion and her partner. Trusting that she could feel this shift in me; that I wasn't going to give up on her, I went to the barn the next day and rode her bareback, with a rope halter and snap on reins. Reba responded with softness and a gentle eye. When I got off, she put her head on my shoulder and just rested there. Recognizing that this was just the beginning of repairing the rupture, I was thankful for that gesture. Each day since then, I have been holding gratitude that Reba didn't give up on me, and that I decided to make that commitment to her.