Eat, Sleep, Repeat

You'll notice there's no "riding" in that sequence. I apologize for the lack of updates, but there hasn't been much to update on. I haven't been working LBM, I've been getting worked. And worked, and worked...10 hours a day, 6 days a week. Long days, in a greenhouse, sweating my butt off and helping (often) unhappy and irritable women who want what they want and they want it now. I mean, c'mon, we have 3 dozen varieties of marigolds and you complain to me that we don't carry that ONE variety you want? I have been doing quite a bit of reading. In my counseling sessions, which as I've mentioned before are for things non-horse related, we've discussing the idea of fear and anger. The concept is simple: anger is fear's child. Anger is what happens when we are afraid and feel the need to protect ourselves or somehow give responsibility to something or someone for what is happening. They are sometimes so intertwined that we don't realize which one we are feeling. How does this relate to horses you ask? Simple. The reason I haven't gotten back in the saddle, literally and metaphorically, is because I'm afraid. Yes, I said it. I'm scared out of my mind. I'm not scared that I'll get dumped and end up in the dirt, break a bone, land in a fence, etc. I'm scared that I won't know what to do, how to fix the situation, how to make Stella OK. I'm scared I don't know enough to heal the rift between us. And when I try and work with Stella and things don't go well, I feel the anger. The fear breeds it: the fear of not knowing what to do, of not having control. It sounds like a script from a bad love story or something an old married couple would say. "Oh well, you know how it goes, you spend so long together and you grow apart and can't stand each other anymore." But this isn't growing apart. Right now there is no connection, no desire on Stella's part to be interested or willing to see what I have to say, probably because I'm not trustworthy. When your horse senses that you don't have the information, that you don't know what's going on, that they can't turn to you to tell them what to do or that it's OK, they freak. And when they freak, they tune you out. I'm about as high on her agenda as the manure pile. And I'm scared. I'm scared I won't be able to fix this. Do I want a relationship with this horse? Yes, more than anything. Yet I've settled for grooming her in her stall as she eats her hay because I can't bear to see how unsettled she is anywhere else. We leave the barn and the upper lip gets tight, the lower lip flaps, the eyes bug out and her breathing gets irregular. She's not confident, and she knows she can't turn to me for confidence right now either. Have you ever been handed something valuable and delicate, and you're so worried about dropping or damaging it that your hands start to sweat and you fumble and it goes crashing to the floor? That's me with horses right now. I'm trying so hard not to mess up that I'm messing up. I'm doing nothing. I'm becoming what I NEVER wanted to be: a nurse. I don't ride or work my horse, I just brush and brush and brush until she shines like a new penny...but nothing changes. I need a huge dose of confidence: it's funny because I'm OK with everyone else's horses. It's my own I am afraid of. When the emotional connection is there the fear factor goes through the roof. Ugh.