Since I last wrote I went into a terrible horse-funk that I couldn't pull myself out of. The whole thing with Cowboy hit me much harder than I could have predicted. The lesson learned for me was that I had much more bound up in him than horse/human. He was the horse who got me through my fears and helped me find courage again. He is a large part of who I am today and helping me find and be okay with my happiness.
Where you'd think I might draw closer to my other horses and find some solace there, the exact opposite was true. I withdrew from them all, even Beautiful. It was like I needed to have a separation, a line in the sand between my horse-life-past and my horse-life-future. I needed to give myself a chance to mourn and, eventually, accept that it was never going to be the same again. There was not going to be any going out and jumping on my long-time partner, Cowboy, and riding off into the sunset with my friends. My new life was going to be all about training young ones and starting once again from that place Cowboy and I had long ago left--the getting to know each other stages. It was sad letting go of my familiar friend...very, very, very sad.
In my personal life, it was the exact opposite. Where doors were being closed with Cowboy and there was this overwhelming sense of loss--in my home life we were planting gardens, building a sunroom and covered deck, doing a lot of local traveling and biking--there was this great sense of creation and energy.
My husband and I would work (and play) together, then sit on the new deck and watch the horses who would gather about 100 feet away from us or move out and graze the pastures or lie sleeping in the sun.
Sometimes I'd feel terribly guilty that I'd stopped cold in my training and I wasn't continuing where I'd left off with Beautiful. I'd reached this great point with her--saddling and mounting. Then, I quit. When I'd work in the yard, Beautiful was always there in my back-pocket....waiting. And, C'ya, my other sweet filly, needed riding, too.
Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.
But no movement. I was in a sort of horse-paralysis. I wanted to get out there and ride, but I didn't.
Until my daughter woke me up.
(To be continued...)
Sunroom project...still in the making.