Saturday, February 4, 2012

All I Know Is I Know Nothing

More people should speak those words. I know I did today.

When you resign yourself to not absolutely knowing anything, the world becomes a much simpler place. I'm not saying lie down, I'm not saying back off, or ceasing living. What I'm saying is something I've been trying to do all along: never stop learning.

I have realized, through the eternal wisdom of my grandmother, that I have not been honest with myself. I thought I was, I thought I was doing what I was supposed to be doing re: Dr. Deb's advice and my new line of thinking. I, however, went from one extreme to another. I ceased to exist to my horse. I became disinterested, lacking energy and excitement and vigor. I just stopped living.

I think I did this for two reasons: I wanted so badly to be in control of my emotions, to have a grip on myself, something I haven't had in a long, long time. I also desperately want my mare to see me as important, as someone worth listening to and being with. Problem is, even I don't want to be with myself most of the time. Pretty hard to convince your horse to stick around when you'd skip town if you could.

I know, I know, I should probably save my whine-fest for my boyfriend. That's not what I intended this blog to be about, and it isn't. We learn things if we allow ourselves to. My grandmother gave me an awfully loaded piece of advice when I went to visit her today. She loves to hear about the horses and hasn't been able to talk with my about Ernie because it upsets her too much to think of him, but I used to talk to her about Stella all the time. She asked me how she was today, and I said what I've said the past few visits, "Oh, she's OK."

My grandmother pointed out the negativity she's been feeling about my relationship with Stella, and so she asked what was going on. All this coming from a woman who knows nothing about horses, but she picked up in me that something wasn't right between us. "It's OK," I assured her. "I'm just starting out on this path, and I'm confused and uncertain and nervous, and so Stella is, too." I explained to her everything I could. Her comment? "It sounds as though you've become awfully withdrawn. Don't you think Stella wonders where you've gone?"

Grandma nailed it. I've become the opposite of overly involved. I've become totally withdrawn, an emotional black hole. Now I don't share too much, I share NOTHING. No wonder Stella has been so slow to trust me. No wonder this process has been so confused and frightening.

Her parting words this evening? "If I know anything, it's that I know nothing."

Pretty loaded words for a Saturday night. But it's something I needed so badly.

1 comment:

  1. Your grandmother sounds like such a fantastic woman! You'll find your way back. Sometimes getting to the most desolate place and taking a big look around is the only way to start working our way back up to where we were.

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