Today words mean nothing.
I feel as if my heart is being ripped from my chest and as if my wind-pipe is narrowing and I'm choking on every breath I take. I don't want to be here anymore.
Even the most basic of tasks are proving too much, but in some respects they're easier than ever, because they seem subconcious.
Tomorrow I'll pretend to be okay, not even intentionally; I just have some preoccupation with maintaining a strong deamour to the extent that I no longer have to try. Sometimes I think I must be so see through, but still noone seems to notice. It's fine, I don't want them to.
I've got a back-log of work from November; I know I should be doing it now instead of complaining about it and blogging, but honestly, I am finding it incredibly hard to care. I have wanted this for the past four years, yet now it's become a possibility, I just don't want it. Infact, it's not that I don't want it- I want to want this. I really do. But I can't.
I don't intentionally leave work till the last minute; I'll meticulously plan for weeks on end until I have established the content and the structure I want to run with, but when it comes to writing, I just can't do it. It's like I know what to do and how to do it, but I physically can't. And I wish I could.
Today, I am so ready to give it all up.
Sunday, 13 February 2011
Wednesday, 2 February 2011
100 secrets- work in progress
1) Spontaneity scares me.
2) I hate praise.
3) I give critism more easily than I take it.
4) I feel vulnerable all the time and have a fear of going out.
5) I'll do almost anything to avoid social situations.
6) My grandad is the only relation I look up to and has made me feel worth something.
7) Sometimes I can't read my own writing.
8) Words mean more to me than actions.
9) I find it hard to tell when people are joking.
10) I worry about my little brother all the time he's at school.
11) I find it hard to adjust to change.
12) Although I ride horses, I am terrified of falling off.
13) There is noone who I trust completly.
14) I avoid taking risks.
15)I try and avoid confrontation, but it doesn't scare me.
16) I've always hated numbers, but they've taught me my value.
17) I find it difficult to make decisions, no matter how mundane.
18) What people percieve to be the most trivial matters are the ones that matter most to me.
19) I don't forgive people easily.
20) Marketing and horses are the only two things I have had a countinued passion for.
21) I get my mum to buy me celery to make me feel she's supporting mewith my eating disorder.
22)I can relate business terms and concepts to life in a philoshophical way.
23) Although she's a horse, Biscuit has possibly played one of the most significant roles in my life.
24) Because of my Dyspraxia I feel like my mind and body work completly independently.
25) I've always thought I shouldn't achieve high grades because my sister is more academic than me, and it will only increase the expectations people have for her- and I don't want her to have to deal with that pressure.
26) I've wanted to go into equine behaviour for the past four years, but I don't agree with the techniques used by the more appraised N.H practioners (such as Pat and Linda Parelli & Monty Roberts).
27) I am an Atheist, but sometimes I wish I believed there is a God so I'd have faith in something when I was doubting everything else.
28) I do not feel as if I have achieved anything in my life.
29) People percieve me as being an organised person who has everything under control, they couldn't be further from the truth.
30) I was stillborn and resasitated; everyday I wonder if there was a reason I survived.
31) I feel closer to my best friends mum than I do my own.
32) I find great satisfaction in people making mistakes. I hate myself for this.
33) I was once told to write a list of things that made me happy, it only had three things on it and it took me about two hours and fifteen minutes.
34) If I stare at my reflection for long enough, I can convince myself I don't exist and find great contentment in doing so.
35) I have lost hope in ever being genuinely optimistic again.
36) I have never felt pretty.
37) I would hate to be close to my parents.
38) I have made attempts on my sisters life; two of which resulted in medical complications.
39) I have two facebook's; one where I have to pretend to be okay, and the other where I don't have to.
40) I've always said I would never talk to random people on the internet, truth is, I feel some of them understand me better than those who 'know' me in person.
41)Loosing my closest friends was the best and worst thing that's happened to me.
42) I spend a lot of time advocating recovery, when really I'm not sure if I want it and regularly look at thinspiration.
43) Sometimes I pretend not to take hints because I don't want to seem presumptuous.
44) I have an incredibly analytical mind-set.
45) I am very concise in both my writing and my speech.
46)I hate having my photo taken, but I'm scared that will mean when I'm older I'll have nothing to remember the past by.
47) I can stare at myself in the mirror for hours on end, it's not vanity; I sit there and critise every aspect of my being.
48) I don't believe I'd ever felt any kind of love for someone until I met my brother Oli.
49) I'd rather be thin than alive.
50) It annoys me that my sister wears make-up because she's so pretty anyway, and I'm not, yet I don't bother.
51)I want to be so ill I have to be put on a feeding tube.
52) It was my fault I was sexually assualted.
53) If my mum read my blog, she might finally realise I need help.
54) I bite myself and pull my hair when I get angry.
55) I'm scared that I'll end up being like my mum.
56) I don't understand why my mum and dad are together. Sometimes I'm not sure that they do either.
57) I am scared of moths and butterflies.
58) I once cried because I wanted a digestive biscuit so badly.
59) Everytime a train goes past, I get the immense urge to throw myself under it.
60)My parents tell me I have no grasp on the concept of the worth of money, truth is- I don't because I don't think money is important.
61) I can't imagine my brother, Oli, grown up.
62) I don't feel I deserve to live. I don't feel I deserve the freedom of dying either.
63) Sometimes, I need people to see through my lies.
64) I'm too proud to accept help.
65) When I see people eat, I think they're weak.
66) I don't feel like myself when I wear make-up.
67) I find little value in tangiable things.
68) I didn't learn to ride a bike without stablisers until the age of 14.
69) I button things from the bottom upwards because it makes me less likely to do it wrong (Dyspraxia related).
70)I have always quite liked the idea of being either a glamour or underwear model.
71) I think I might be a compulsive hoarder.
72) Loading/unloading the dishwasher is prehaps one of the most emotionally and mentally testing household chores you could ask me to do.
73) I don't feel capable of anything.
74) I see optimism as cliche.
75) The optimism of others intimidates me.
76) Breaking rules terrifies me.
2) I hate praise.
3) I give critism more easily than I take it.
4) I feel vulnerable all the time and have a fear of going out.
5) I'll do almost anything to avoid social situations.
6) My grandad is the only relation I look up to and has made me feel worth something.
7) Sometimes I can't read my own writing.
8) Words mean more to me than actions.
9) I find it hard to tell when people are joking.
10) I worry about my little brother all the time he's at school.
11) I find it hard to adjust to change.
12) Although I ride horses, I am terrified of falling off.
13) There is noone who I trust completly.
14) I avoid taking risks.
15)I try and avoid confrontation, but it doesn't scare me.
16) I've always hated numbers, but they've taught me my value.
17) I find it difficult to make decisions, no matter how mundane.
18) What people percieve to be the most trivial matters are the ones that matter most to me.
19) I don't forgive people easily.
20) Marketing and horses are the only two things I have had a countinued passion for.
21) I get my mum to buy me celery to make me feel she's supporting me
22)I can relate business terms and concepts to life in a philoshophical way.
23) Although she's a horse, Biscuit has possibly played one of the most significant roles in my life.
24) Because of my Dyspraxia I feel like my mind and body work completly independently.
25) I've always thought I shouldn't achieve high grades because my sister is more academic than me, and it will only increase the expectations people have for her- and I don't want her to have to deal with that pressure.
26) I've wanted to go into equine behaviour for the past four years, but I don't agree with the techniques used by the more appraised N.H practioners (such as Pat and Linda Parelli & Monty Roberts).
27) I am an Atheist, but sometimes I wish I believed there is a God so I'd have faith in something when I was doubting everything else.
28) I do not feel as if I have achieved anything in my life.
29) People percieve me as being an organised person who has everything under control, they couldn't be further from the truth.
30) I was stillborn and resasitated; everyday I wonder if there was a reason I survived.
31) I feel closer to my best friends mum than I do my own.
32) I find great satisfaction in people making mistakes. I hate myself for this.
33) I was once told to write a list of things that made me happy, it only had three things on it and it took me about two hours and fifteen minutes.
34) If I stare at my reflection for long enough, I can convince myself I don't exist and find great contentment in doing so.
35) I have lost hope in ever being genuinely optimistic again.
36) I have never felt pretty.
37) I would hate to be close to my parents.
38) I have made attempts on my sisters life; two of which resulted in medical complications.
39) I have two facebook's; one where I have to pretend to be okay, and the other where I don't have to.
40) I've always said I would never talk to random people on the internet, truth is, I feel some of them understand me better than those who 'know' me in person.
41)Loosing my closest friends was the best and worst thing that's happened to me.
42) I spend a lot of time advocating recovery, when really I'm not sure if I want it and regularly look at thinspiration.
43) Sometimes I pretend not to take hints because I don't want to seem presumptuous.
44) I have an incredibly analytical mind-set.
45) I am very concise in both my writing and my speech.
46)I hate having my photo taken, but I'm scared that will mean when I'm older I'll have nothing to remember the past by.
47) I can stare at myself in the mirror for hours on end, it's not vanity; I sit there and critise every aspect of my being.
48) I don't believe I'd ever felt any kind of love for someone until I met my brother Oli.
49) I'd rather be thin than alive.
50) It annoys me that my sister wears make-up because she's so pretty anyway, and I'm not, yet I don't bother.
51)I want to be so ill I have to be put on a feeding tube.
52) It was my fault I was sexually assualted.
53) If my mum read my blog, she might finally realise I need help.
54) I bite myself and pull my hair when I get angry.
55) I'm scared that I'll end up being like my mum.
56) I don't understand why my mum and dad are together. Sometimes I'm not sure that they do either.
57) I am scared of moths and butterflies.
58) I once cried because I wanted a digestive biscuit so badly.
59) Everytime a train goes past, I get the immense urge to throw myself under it.
60)My parents tell me I have no grasp on the concept of the worth of money, truth is- I don't because I don't think money is important.
61) I can't imagine my brother, Oli, grown up.
62) I don't feel I deserve to live. I don't feel I deserve the freedom of dying either.
63) Sometimes, I need people to see through my lies.
64) I'm too proud to accept help.
65) When I see people eat, I think they're weak.
66) I don't feel like myself when I wear make-up.
67) I find little value in tangiable things.
68) I didn't learn to ride a bike without stablisers until the age of 14.
69) I button things from the bottom upwards because it makes me less likely to do it wrong (Dyspraxia related).
70)I have always quite liked the idea of being either a glamour or underwear model.
71) I think I might be a compulsive hoarder.
72) Loading/unloading the dishwasher is prehaps one of the most emotionally and mentally testing household chores you could ask me to do.
73) I don't feel capable of anything.
74) I see optimism as cliche.
75) The optimism of others intimidates me.
76) Breaking rules terrifies me.
Monday, 17 January 2011
17/1/2011
So lately it seems my insanity is becoming all too much to bare; that every day is one of 'those' days. I'm not sure I believe in anything I feel anymore, because its become so hard to tell what's real and what's just a figurement of my imagination.
Slowly I'm loosing all concept of right or reason, and this time I don't think I'm going to get it back. I've lost the will to lose.
On the plus side, at college I had a jump lesson today on a horse that prior to the lesson, practically pinned me to the wall and repetivley attempted to kick me, whom I am not that confident on due to my inability to handle his 'quirks'. Anyhow, so today we were doing grid work which is basically a series of jumps with only short strides inbetween so you have to sit up and be ready to take off again quite quickly, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't bricking it- because I am prehaps the most unbalanced person this side of the hemisphere,Oscar has a pretty early take off and I had never been over jumps of that height before. Never a good combination.
So there I am on Oscar with this grid in front of me feeling very aprehensive about going over it, to the point I nearly cried; but that's when I realised, when we don't face something, we reinforce our fear of it. So I went over it once and was going to leave it at that, and instead of saying no when my instructor asked if I wanted to go again, I said 'Not really, but I will'
Enough of my aimless rambling, tomorrow is another day.
So this was the jump I was scared about doing...
and this is just a small cross pole, so small infact it looks like the poles are touching the floor :L
Slowly I'm loosing all concept of right or reason, and this time I don't think I'm going to get it back. I've lost the will to lose.
On the plus side, at college I had a jump lesson today on a horse that prior to the lesson, practically pinned me to the wall and repetivley attempted to kick me, whom I am not that confident on due to my inability to handle his 'quirks'. Anyhow, so today we were doing grid work which is basically a series of jumps with only short strides inbetween so you have to sit up and be ready to take off again quite quickly, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't bricking it- because I am prehaps the most unbalanced person this side of the hemisphere,Oscar has a pretty early take off and I had never been over jumps of that height before. Never a good combination.
So there I am on Oscar with this grid in front of me feeling very aprehensive about going over it, to the point I nearly cried; but that's when I realised, when we don't face something, we reinforce our fear of it. So I went over it once and was going to leave it at that, and instead of saying no when my instructor asked if I wanted to go again, I said 'Not really, but I will'
Enough of my aimless rambling, tomorrow is another day.
So this was the jump I was scared about doing...
Thursday, 30 December 2010
31/12/2010
So I decided to take a break from blogging for a while, but now the pull has become too much and I have returned :)
Lately I have lacked the words to compose anything worthy of posting, so instead of a usual blog post, today I shall post a letter that I have written to my school deputy head teacher as a thankyou for all she has done for me in the past year. Within this letter you will notice lines from my previous blog postings; I have included these as I have no other way to verbalise how I feel, so it may seem a little like you're reading the same thing again, which I apologise for. The name of the person I have written this letter to has been abbreviated to their intials for privacy reasons, and I have also taken out the name of my school and any numbers related to weight.
Dear C.S,
It’s been almost six months now since I left school, but I still feel compelled to write this letter.
Over the past year so much has happened, and it has always been you who has been there to pull me away from the edge when everything else willed me towards it;
On Christmas day 2010 it was one year exactly since mum suspected I was purging and I denied it, so I decided, as a test to myself, I’d attempt to keep Christmas dinner down, because no matter how bad this mentality would make me feel after, ultimately, it would put me one up on last year. And for the first time in three years, I did it, and amid all the shame, I felt an inkling of pride.
I tried so hard to cling onto the remnants of hope I’d always believed had been diminished, but the harder I fought, the stronger the disorder fought back, and yet again- I was back at square one; not knowing whether I wanted recovery or not. I felt so guilty for letting go of that pride you taught me to strive for, and that was my turning point; I realised that there is so much more beyond this, and that for so long I had been blinded.
For the first time in a long time, I’ve regained my aspirations; I’m going to apply myself to college 100%. I’m determined to make light from this; I intend to go on to study Psychology, and eventually have my own equine-therapy based eating disorder inpatient facility. It all seems so far away right now, but I’ll get there.From now on I’m going to be brutally honest about what happened, who I am, where I want to be and what I need to get there.
There’s still a very strong part of me that wants to get down to ** lbs, and I don’t know if that part of me will ever completely disappear; the part that wants my unworthiness to be worth noticing.I guess in a way, I don’t feel ‘ill’ enough to constitute the word recovery; that until I’m clinically emaciated, I’ve nothing to recover from. But people define recovery in different ways, and I’m not yet sure what mine is. Maybe I’m not ready for recovery, but I’m not going to wait around on the off chance that someday everything will fall into place and I’ll feel completely prepared, because if I waited until I was, it’s highly probable I’d be waiting forever.
Recently I’ve started physiotherapy as my patella bone doesn’t interlink with the other parts of my knee properly, causing the knee cap to dislocate at random intervals. It frustrates me sometimes because I know I can’t exercise as much as I used to if I want it to heal properly, but in truth, the only reason I’m waiting for it to heal now is so I won’t be put out of action for even longer and therefore be unable to exercise for a longer duration of time. I know that sounds like everything I said previously meant nothing, but maybe this came at the right time, because your body always knows when to stop even if your mind doesn’t- it’s just a case of knowing which one to listen to.
I guess the concept of being ‘well’ scares me; I hate it when people say I look well. I don’t feel well. To me ‘well’ means healthy in terms of physique and mentality, yet people judge how well (or not) you are on the basis of appearance alone. It reminds me that from society’s point of view our worth is judged on an exterior level.
This letter probably seems very muddled. It is. But right now, so am I; it’s not so much a case of wanting to recover at the moment, it’s more beginning to make the choice to do so.
This year I’m going to get the n.e.d.a recovery symbol tattooed on my hip with the words ‘I can’ next to it. I feel it will encourage me to keep going, and in the future it will remind me of the struggle I endured in a positive sense, as I will be able to look back and realise how strong it made me.
I’ve always felt that this defines me-so strong in my weakness, so in control in my lack of control-, and that without it, I’ll have nothing left. But I’m fed up of merely existing; I’m going to start living.
I’m going to get my spark back and finish what you begun for me.
Lately I have lacked the words to compose anything worthy of posting, so instead of a usual blog post, today I shall post a letter that I have written to my school deputy head teacher as a thankyou for all she has done for me in the past year. Within this letter you will notice lines from my previous blog postings; I have included these as I have no other way to verbalise how I feel, so it may seem a little like you're reading the same thing again, which I apologise for. The name of the person I have written this letter to has been abbreviated to their intials for privacy reasons, and I have also taken out the name of my school and any numbers related to weight.
Dear C.S,
It’s been almost six months now since I left school, but I still feel compelled to write this letter.
Over the past year so much has happened, and it has always been you who has been there to pull me away from the edge when everything else willed me towards it;
On Christmas day 2010 it was one year exactly since mum suspected I was purging and I denied it, so I decided, as a test to myself, I’d attempt to keep Christmas dinner down, because no matter how bad this mentality would make me feel after, ultimately, it would put me one up on last year. And for the first time in three years, I did it, and amid all the shame, I felt an inkling of pride.
I tried so hard to cling onto the remnants of hope I’d always believed had been diminished, but the harder I fought, the stronger the disorder fought back, and yet again- I was back at square one; not knowing whether I wanted recovery or not. I felt so guilty for letting go of that pride you taught me to strive for, and that was my turning point; I realised that there is so much more beyond this, and that for so long I had been blinded.
For the first time in a long time, I’ve regained my aspirations; I’m going to apply myself to college 100%. I’m determined to make light from this; I intend to go on to study Psychology, and eventually have my own equine-therapy based eating disorder inpatient facility. It all seems so far away right now, but I’ll get there.From now on I’m going to be brutally honest about what happened, who I am, where I want to be and what I need to get there.
There’s still a very strong part of me that wants to get down to ** lbs, and I don’t know if that part of me will ever completely disappear; the part that wants my unworthiness to be worth noticing.I guess in a way, I don’t feel ‘ill’ enough to constitute the word recovery; that until I’m clinically emaciated, I’ve nothing to recover from. But people define recovery in different ways, and I’m not yet sure what mine is. Maybe I’m not ready for recovery, but I’m not going to wait around on the off chance that someday everything will fall into place and I’ll feel completely prepared, because if I waited until I was, it’s highly probable I’d be waiting forever.
Recently I’ve started physiotherapy as my patella bone doesn’t interlink with the other parts of my knee properly, causing the knee cap to dislocate at random intervals. It frustrates me sometimes because I know I can’t exercise as much as I used to if I want it to heal properly, but in truth, the only reason I’m waiting for it to heal now is so I won’t be put out of action for even longer and therefore be unable to exercise for a longer duration of time. I know that sounds like everything I said previously meant nothing, but maybe this came at the right time, because your body always knows when to stop even if your mind doesn’t- it’s just a case of knowing which one to listen to.
I guess the concept of being ‘well’ scares me; I hate it when people say I look well. I don’t feel well. To me ‘well’ means healthy in terms of physique and mentality, yet people judge how well (or not) you are on the basis of appearance alone. It reminds me that from society’s point of view our worth is judged on an exterior level.
This letter probably seems very muddled. It is. But right now, so am I; it’s not so much a case of wanting to recover at the moment, it’s more beginning to make the choice to do so.
This year I’m going to get the n.e.d.a recovery symbol tattooed on my hip with the words ‘I can’ next to it. I feel it will encourage me to keep going, and in the future it will remind me of the struggle I endured in a positive sense, as I will be able to look back and realise how strong it made me.
I’ve always felt that this defines me-so strong in my weakness, so in control in my lack of control-, and that without it, I’ll have nothing left. But I’m fed up of merely existing; I’m going to start living.
I’m going to get my spark back and finish what you begun for me.
Friday, 8 October 2010
8/10/2010
The feeling that there’s nothing worth fighting for and nothing left to lose; the fear that there is, and the despair that there isn’t, because it’s already gone. The longing for your life to have so much more meaning , so much more promise- but the inability to see beyond this; where everything is black and white, where everything is moving forwards, yet so backwards. So distorted, but never more clear.
The part of you that wants to have to fight this mentality, and the part that wants to fight it. The day’s where you plead for it to go and long for it to stay. The trying to convince yourself that your conscious thoughts are true, and the overpowering voice that tells you otherwise- the shouting in your silence. The solace in your pain.
The wanting to be shielded from the truth, but the needing it more than anything. The thought that people are exaggerating the severity to force you to recover, and the hope it really is as bad as they say... the hope it gets worse. The part of you that wants to be known for having an eating disorder- for all the wrong reasons that feel so right- and the part of you that doesn’t. Because you want to be ill, and you need someone to notice. But you need them not too, because everything you’ve built up will crumble. The wanting your unworthiness to be worth noticing, but the wanting to fade away. Feeling so strong in your weakness; feeling so in control in your lack of control.
The needing to hang on to what’s causing you to fall apart, but also keeping you together; and the needing to let go of it in order to genuinely hang on.
The feeling that you’re too much and not enough.
The wanting to keep doing this until the day your dead, but the knowing that if you did- you wouldn’t be able to do this anymore. And that hurts, because you want it and you need it here. But you need it gone.
The part of you that wants to have to fight this mentality, and the part that wants to fight it. The day’s where you plead for it to go and long for it to stay. The trying to convince yourself that your conscious thoughts are true, and the overpowering voice that tells you otherwise- the shouting in your silence. The solace in your pain.
The wanting to be shielded from the truth, but the needing it more than anything. The thought that people are exaggerating the severity to force you to recover, and the hope it really is as bad as they say... the hope it gets worse. The part of you that wants to be known for having an eating disorder- for all the wrong reasons that feel so right- and the part of you that doesn’t. Because you want to be ill, and you need someone to notice. But you need them not too, because everything you’ve built up will crumble. The wanting your unworthiness to be worth noticing, but the wanting to fade away. Feeling so strong in your weakness; feeling so in control in your lack of control.
The needing to hang on to what’s causing you to fall apart, but also keeping you together; and the needing to let go of it in order to genuinely hang on.
The feeling that you’re too much and not enough.
The wanting to keep doing this until the day your dead, but the knowing that if you did- you wouldn’t be able to do this anymore. And that hurts, because you want it and you need it here. But you need it gone.
Saturday, 25 September 2010
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 ♥
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 ♥
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| 'When riding a horse we leave our fear, troubles, and sadness behind on the ground.' - Juli Carlson |
Monday, 6 September 2010
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
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.
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.
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