25/9/2010

Some may find it absurd- others intriguing, but I truly believe horses have played a fundamental role in helping me become recovery focused.


A few years ago I began riding a friend’s mare; she’d drag me into fences, never keep out on the track, take the bit and run with me, and was unsympathetic towards new riders. She placed so much doubt in my ability that my confidence lapsed before it was even created. The problem was I didn’t trust her enough, and that I wasn’t experienced enough for the horse to be able to approach her behaviour in an effective manner.

A few years later I began having riding lessons at a riding school where I had previously done work experience. I knew the horses there well, but only in the stable. For my first few lessons I rode a mare called Pepsi; she was affectionate but both lazy and bouncy under saddle. I didn’t have the confidence to get her to move forward. I felt like I had failed to conquer yet another horse.

I then began to ride a horse called Biscuit; a gorgeous seventeen hand, ex-show jumper mare. I knew Biscuit well as I mucked her out every day I was on my work experience; she’d follow me round the stable and would move over when I asked her to. There was no need to ever tell her anything twice; she was so willing to please.

At first I was apprehensive to ride her due to her size; I’d never noticed quite how big she was when she was in the stable despite it being a confined space. It was in that first lesson with Biscuit that I mastered my rising trot rhythm. For any other rider, such an ‘achievement’ may not seem significant; but due to my Dyspraxia, balance, rhythm and co-ordination were something I had always struggled with.

Biscuit gave me something many other horses had failed to; she made me feel proud.

In that same lesson I had my first canter; at first I was hesitant, but as Biscuit went into a perfectly strided canter, I began to relax into it; I felt the burden of tension and fear I had been carrying being lifted. There was something about riding that I found so empowering. It was then that I realised that it is possible to have control over something that seems so much bigger and stronger than you.

When my next lesson came around, I arrived at the stables to find some work-men were re-concreting the yard, as I mounted Biscuit my instructor told me to be cautious as she may spook at the sound of the shovel on the ground. She halted a fair distance away from the men and I kicked her forward past them and she didn’t even so much as blink in their direction. That was when I knew she trusted me.

On one occasion when I was returning to the stables from the riding school, a tractor came past and Biscuit spooked, I didn't panic like I would've done had I of been on my friends mare, instead I spoke to her calmly and reassuringly. It was the fact that despite her strength and age, she wasn't afraid to show her own vulnerability that made me fall even more in love with her. For the first time I didn't have to pretend not to be scared so she wouldn't sense it, I genuinely wasn't nervous. That was when I knew I trusted her.

From the moment we get upon a horse, we give them the power to determine our level of confidence; some days they'll fill you with self belief, others they'll seem to tear it down. But no matter what, there's always a day when it will be restored, if not by the same horse, then by another. Every horse is a test; we have to prove ourselves to them before they prove themselves to us- it is only then that the partnership between horse and rider can reach its full potential.

Someone at the stables told me that Biscuit and I looked like we had been together all our lives, and it truly felt like we had been. I have since stopped riding at that stables as I have lessons at college where I am studying Horse Management,in order to pursue my dream of becoming an Equine Behaviourist.

Biscuit gave me confidence at a time when I doubted myself the most; she taught me to put trust in her when I lost faith in everything else. She showed me that the impossible was possible. I can only hope that someday I can have what Biscuit gave me with another horse ♥

'When riding a horse we leave our fear, troubles, and sadness behind on the ground.'
 - Juli Carlson

                                                                                

6/9/2010

Looking back I’ve always had the control I’ve felt I’ve lacked; in reporting what happened on that day in 2008- it was in that moment I seized control. Because in that moment, I chose between being a victim of silence, or speaking out and making sure he was brought to justice. I guess at the time, a very small part of me, no matter how hidden it was, knew I had some control over the situation, but that control seemed all too mundane and was never enough, so I sought it in all the wrong places.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t use the assault as a scape-goat to avoid facing other issues, because it explained the otherwise unexplainable; if I put everything down to the assault, I never had to look any further or dig any deeper. And in that sense, I guess that’s what stopped me moving on; I never allowed myself to look beyond what happened.

Last night I was talking to a close friend regarding this, and she said she believes that

'problems are always there, but certain events magnify them'

; applying that to my situation, I believe that the eating disorder was remaining manifesting prior to the assault, not revealing itself at its fullest extent until after the assault had taken place.

From the moment I reported it, I had a choice, to take action and move on, he on the other hand- didn’t; upon charge whenever he applied for a new job, he’d have to explain what he did and answer other awkward questions in relation to what happened. He has no choice but to face what he did, but I always had the choice to handle the situation in a way that I felt comfortable with. He may have to deal with the repercussions of his actions forever, but I never have to. But is it fair that he should be constantly reminded of his past mistakes?

I was never the under-dog, I just couldn’t see it.

I won’t be a victim forever.

2/9/2010

Although rife in today’s modern society, there is still much misunderstanding surrounding eating disorders; many believing that the issue is solely based around food. The reality is, it’s so much more complex than that.

There are many situations we encounter in everyday life that are beyond our control, and instinctively we look for mediums by which to gain the control we feel we are lacking. It’s never what a situation is that’s important, it’s how it affects those involved.

No one thing in this world can exist without another; everything is interconnected; we partake in actions because of their consequence, rather than merely because we can. We do things for the effect they have upon our feelings. When we restrict or purge, we do it for the outcome. The control element is not in the action, but the aftermath.

We ebb around the result of our actions. No one would make conscious decisions if the potential for a change to occur did not exist.

In controlling what or how we eat, we’re exerting control over what is often the only aspect we feel able to control. We’re frequently the medium by which we channel the means we gain control, because we’re always at our own disposal. So in many respects, we’re attempting to exert control over ourselves when we feel as if every external factor is out of our control.

Eventually we reach the point where we are so indoctrinated by the disorder that we are no longer controlling it, but rather the disorder is controlling us, taking over every facet of our mind.

Despite the severity of the issue, I think there is some irony to be found in the fact that a fundamental part of recovery is coming to terms with the idea that one binge will not kill you, whilst in a disordered state we constantly tell ourselves that one purge won’t either.

As with everything, in time, things stop working; we no longer get the release from our actions that we once did, and it is this that can be the hardest part to deal with. We allow ourselves to become even more of a victim; letting ourselves fall even further backwards in our attempt to go forwards, trying to gain the same release we did the first time. In essence, we’re stuck in a vicious and repetitive cycle of trying to get back to where we started. You become consumed by the thought that you will never find solace and that in doing a certain thing, you will. And no matter what, it’s never enough, so you keep pushing and pushing; trying to obtain what you did last time- convincing yourself it will be different this time.

And it never is.