I've been doing a lot of thinking this past month about what "being real" means. How a lot of people act "fake" in order to cover up their uniqueness. It makes me sad to see this, and sadder to realize I do this as well. So I'm going to be real now.
These past few months, I haven't been completely honest on this blog. I haven't been completely honest with Rose either, and that is where these thoughts I've been having are coming from.
When I say I haven't been honest, I mean that I've only written about the highlights of my time with Rose. I've plucked from the vast collection of moments I spend with her, and only chose the moments I think will put me in the best light.
I know, that sounds very self-centered. It is. But today, I want to remember my original goal for the blog and try to write something real, something for myself only. Something that I don't care if it is read by anyone else.
I've been different recently, and Rose has picked up on that.
About two months ago, I was really sad. Like, depressed sad. I know this is because I hadn't at all been prepared for the amount of pressure, stress, and work that comes with being a senior at high school. I was spending double the amount of time doing homework and getting half as good marks as previous school years.
It was a bad time, and everyone around me was taking a beating from problems that only I should have had to deal with. I apologize to my family and friends who kindly endured this (some who had the same experience with me), but the one who took the burden the hardest was Rose.
Poor Rose, who had no idea why I suddenly changed so much. Why I got frustrated and angry at her so easily. Why I had such a short attention span. Why I somedays didn't even show up to see her. Sometimes for two or three days in a row. I started getting scared that horses might not mean to me what I thought they did. I got scared at my lack of desire to ride, to stroke Rose's face, to talk to her, even just to make the trip out to the barn.
It scared me because it tested who I truly thought I was. It tested my entire self-image.
The worst part is, I didn't even know what was happening at the time. I didn't notice how different I was acting, and nobody pointed it out. At least, no person pointed it out.
Rose, I realize now, had been pointing it out all along - by mirroring me. Around the same time that I got depressed, Rose started getting antsy. Things that never bothered her before were suddenly a reason to freak out. Then she got bitchy, always had a grouchy attitude, and was mean to the other horses. She would walk away from me when I went to catch her from the field. Then she got crazy - I couldn't ride her in a straight line because she'd be dancing around sideways, spinning, tossing her head, muscles tense as rock, and generally showing no interest in riding. I thought maybe she was being like this because I wasn't riding her enough and she had too much extra energy. So I rode her less.
It escalated, and I felt like Rose was a different horse, one that I didn't know at all. Now I realize, she was just mirroring me. I was the one who had become a, for lack of a better word, bitch.
I don't quite know how I got out of this rut, but I guess about a month ago I started to pick up on my behaviour versus Rose's. I started to notice that we were acting the same way - we were projecting our emotions because we didn't know how to deal with them. I'd be sad, so she would be uncertain and start to get antsy. I'd be frustrated, and she'd get grouchy. I'd feel defeated, and she'd get crazy.
So I decided to test this. I remembered how many times I had preached, "horses are mirrors to our souls."
I and many other horse people have heard this saying many times before. But I guess I never really took it to heart until I really saw what emotions can do to a relationship and how they can spread to other beings, not just stay with oneself.
I tried being calm. I tried focusing and feeling exactly what I felt. I let emotions wash over me instead of trying to suppress them. I had a breakdown, and the next day, I went to see Rose. As I walked out to her in the field, I took a deep breath and stopped a few metres away. Just stopped, and watched, and listened, and felt.
I relaxed my whole body, and breathed, and didn't ask anything of Rose. To my surprise, she walked up to me and nudged my shoulder with her nose.
At that moment, I remembered our last encounter. Three days earlier, she'd run away from me in the field. When I'd finally caught her, she never stood still in the barn. Our ride had been a mess, and I'd left her feeling utterly disconnected from who I thought was my best friend.
That was three days previous. This day, she voluntarily came up to me because she was mirroring my calmness. She felt the difference in me, and she liked it.
So that day about a month ago was the first of many similar.
Now, I'm seeing her around four times a week. Something I've come to accept, as I always used to feel guilty if I didn't ride every day.
The time that we have together is simple and sweet. Rose is calm because I am calm. Rose is willing because I am forgiving. Rose is curious because I am open to change.
And this is the atmosphere that I've always wanted in my life.
I guess what this experience has taught me is that any problem I might be having, doesn't just focus on one aspect of my life.
Everything is connected, and acknowledging this is how I can grow and change - calmly, kindly, and happily.
These past few months, I haven't been completely honest on this blog. I haven't been completely honest with Rose either, and that is where these thoughts I've been having are coming from.
When I say I haven't been honest, I mean that I've only written about the highlights of my time with Rose. I've plucked from the vast collection of moments I spend with her, and only chose the moments I think will put me in the best light.
I know, that sounds very self-centered. It is. But today, I want to remember my original goal for the blog and try to write something real, something for myself only. Something that I don't care if it is read by anyone else.
I've been different recently, and Rose has picked up on that.
About two months ago, I was really sad. Like, depressed sad. I know this is because I hadn't at all been prepared for the amount of pressure, stress, and work that comes with being a senior at high school. I was spending double the amount of time doing homework and getting half as good marks as previous school years.
It was a bad time, and everyone around me was taking a beating from problems that only I should have had to deal with. I apologize to my family and friends who kindly endured this (some who had the same experience with me), but the one who took the burden the hardest was Rose.
Poor Rose, who had no idea why I suddenly changed so much. Why I got frustrated and angry at her so easily. Why I had such a short attention span. Why I somedays didn't even show up to see her. Sometimes for two or three days in a row. I started getting scared that horses might not mean to me what I thought they did. I got scared at my lack of desire to ride, to stroke Rose's face, to talk to her, even just to make the trip out to the barn.
It scared me because it tested who I truly thought I was. It tested my entire self-image.
The worst part is, I didn't even know what was happening at the time. I didn't notice how different I was acting, and nobody pointed it out. At least, no person pointed it out.
Rose, I realize now, had been pointing it out all along - by mirroring me. Around the same time that I got depressed, Rose started getting antsy. Things that never bothered her before were suddenly a reason to freak out. Then she got bitchy, always had a grouchy attitude, and was mean to the other horses. She would walk away from me when I went to catch her from the field. Then she got crazy - I couldn't ride her in a straight line because she'd be dancing around sideways, spinning, tossing her head, muscles tense as rock, and generally showing no interest in riding. I thought maybe she was being like this because I wasn't riding her enough and she had too much extra energy. So I rode her less.
It escalated, and I felt like Rose was a different horse, one that I didn't know at all. Now I realize, she was just mirroring me. I was the one who had become a, for lack of a better word, bitch.
I don't quite know how I got out of this rut, but I guess about a month ago I started to pick up on my behaviour versus Rose's. I started to notice that we were acting the same way - we were projecting our emotions because we didn't know how to deal with them. I'd be sad, so she would be uncertain and start to get antsy. I'd be frustrated, and she'd get grouchy. I'd feel defeated, and she'd get crazy.
So I decided to test this. I remembered how many times I had preached, "horses are mirrors to our souls."
I and many other horse people have heard this saying many times before. But I guess I never really took it to heart until I really saw what emotions can do to a relationship and how they can spread to other beings, not just stay with oneself.
I tried being calm. I tried focusing and feeling exactly what I felt. I let emotions wash over me instead of trying to suppress them. I had a breakdown, and the next day, I went to see Rose. As I walked out to her in the field, I took a deep breath and stopped a few metres away. Just stopped, and watched, and listened, and felt.
I relaxed my whole body, and breathed, and didn't ask anything of Rose. To my surprise, she walked up to me and nudged my shoulder with her nose.
At that moment, I remembered our last encounter. Three days earlier, she'd run away from me in the field. When I'd finally caught her, she never stood still in the barn. Our ride had been a mess, and I'd left her feeling utterly disconnected from who I thought was my best friend.
That was three days previous. This day, she voluntarily came up to me because she was mirroring my calmness. She felt the difference in me, and she liked it.
So that day about a month ago was the first of many similar.
Now, I'm seeing her around four times a week. Something I've come to accept, as I always used to feel guilty if I didn't ride every day.
The time that we have together is simple and sweet. Rose is calm because I am calm. Rose is willing because I am forgiving. Rose is curious because I am open to change.
And this is the atmosphere that I've always wanted in my life.
I guess what this experience has taught me is that any problem I might be having, doesn't just focus on one aspect of my life.
Everything is connected, and acknowledging this is how I can grow and change - calmly, kindly, and happily.