At the End of a Gravel Drive

 

The aforementioned gravel drive.

In the spring of 2021, I had just started my 8th year at the animal shelter. I’d started volunteering there in 2013 as a fun activity in my free time outside of school. First, I just walked dogs and shared photos of them on Facebook. Then, over time, I got more and more involved. I served as Dog Adoptions Volunteer liaison on the shelter’s volunteer committee and ran new volunteer orientation for a spell. My friend, Kristin, and I took over the Canine Walk program and organized two downtown walks a month where we took dogs out on the town in “adopt me” vests in the hopes they’d get adopted. We also ran the Dogs Playing for Life doggy playgroup program on Saturdays - which was perhaps one of my favorite parts. Seeing dogs run around and play and just enjoy being themselves and being out of their kennels was fabulous. I learned a lot about dog behavior, too. In 2019, Kristin and I were officially hired at the shelter as the Mobile Adoptions Coordinators. We had a mobile adoptions trailer and everything! 

My BFF, Kristin, and I as Mobile Adoptions Coordinators

When COVID hit, mobile adoptions was no longer a thing so Kristin and I served as adoptions counselors at the shelter and also implemented a follow-up program for adopters. Data entry! I nerdily love data entry. Then, in 2021, things started to get back to normal. We weren’t back out doing events but we were doing playgroup and helping adopters at the shelter.

And then, in March, everything I’d spent the last eight years building my life around came crashing down. A fellow coworker (and friend, I’d thought) threw Kristin and I under the bus to our bosses, declared that we were undermining her and refusing to let her, the new volunteer coordinator, actually lead the volunteers at playgroup. There was a lot more said and a lot more done but suffice it to say that I cried a lot. Don’t come throwing aspersions  on my character! 

After a sit-down meeting with the coworker where it was clear things were not going to get better and I now knew what a ‘hostile work environment’ was, Kristin and I both decided we were done.

But now I was kind of adrift. The shelter had been my identity for eight years. Every Saturday, unless I was sick or out of town, I was at the shelter. Sometimes for the whole day! I often went to walk dogs after school. My friends were shelter workers or volunteers. Who was I without the shelter?

At first, it was nice to not have anywhere to go on Saturdays. And I knew that Kristin and my other best shelter friend, Sharon, would stay friends even though we were no longer at the shelter. The question remained, though: who was I without the shelter? Sure, I was a kick-butt middle school librarian but the whole reason I’d gotten involved with the shelter in the first place was to have a good outlet where I could unwind after school.

I needed something like that again. Not to mention, it’d be nice if it came with some new friends. My mom was always telling me to get out more. She meant church but I wanted something different.

So I decided I’d return to a love I’d had in high school. Horses.

More specifically, Bramblewood Stables, a local riding stable.

My favorite boy, Two, and I soon after I started lessons!

First, I had to attend a Welcome Workshop, which I signed up for immediately. That first Wednesday, I arrived early, parked, and made my way down the long gravel driveway to the barn. I stood around awkwardly until the workshop started and then I got a tour and a chance to work with a sweet pony named Blackjack.

When I left, I knew that I’d found my new outlet. I’d found something to do in my spare time, something to help me unwind from a tough school day.

I didn’t know at the time that I’d found so much more than that.

It started out as just once-weekly horse riding lessons. I rode a few different horses - Moose and Teo, primarily. It was definitely a great way to unwind on a Saturday afternoon. I enjoyed chatting with the other ladies I rode with and my instructor was super cool, too. Soon, I progressed to riding and working with Pepper, a mare who could be a little spicy. But I loved her! 

Beautiful Pepper!

After a while, I started half-leasing and then full-leasing Pepper and really diving into the deep fundamentals of what horsemanship really means. I joined what we call “Saturdays at 11,” a lesson hour full of women and horses, doing separate things together and learning to really connect with the horses. I even started teaching horseback riding lessons to beginners.

My life began to have purpose and meaning again. I realized how much I’d missed having somewhere I could go, things to do, people to talk with outside of school. I felt like I had a community again.

But this community was different from the one at the shelter. While I loved my time at the shelter and I’d had friends there (and I am still very close to Kristin and Sharon), it wasn’t the most positive atmosphere. It was a tough environment and, other than Kristin and Sharon, the friendships were barely surface-deep. 

Not so at Bramblewood. At Bramblewood, there’s no backstabbing or manipulating. There’s no ego or trampling over others to get ahead. There’s just a sense of belonging and the knowledge that the other members of the community are going to be there every single time you need them - even if that’s during a breakdown in front of tons of people and a very famous clinician. I’ve got friends who are cheering me on as I find my confidence on horseback again. I’ve got friends who invite me out with them and don’t care if I go home at the early hour of 10:30 pm. I’ve got friends who let me text rant when I forget to take my anxiety meds and am spiraling. And I’ve got friends who care about me outside of the barn. It wasn’t like that at the shelter - again, other than Sharon and Kristin, my shelter community stopped at the doors. 

Now, I’ve got a community who loves horses as much as I do (of course, they’re what brought us to Bramblewood in the first place), I’ve got a horse of my own whom I love dearly even though we have our struggles, and I’ve got real and true friends. 

I didn’t find just a new passion for horses at Bramblewood Stables.

I found a beautiful community at the end of that gravel drive.

Today, I Rode A Horse

 

This is Moose. She's magnificent. 

    Today, I rode a horse. Now, I know what some of you are thinking - umm, aren't you a horseback riding instructor? Don't you own a horse? Why is it a big deal that you rode a horse? Isn't that what you do on the daily? 

    And all of these are valid questions. I do teach beginner horseback riding lessons. I do own a wonderful horse named Faith.

This is Faith. I will ride her again one day.

    And I have fallen off of her three times. All three happened within feet of (or literally at) the mounting block. All three resulted in nasty bruises but, luckily, no broken bones. The most recent one, I was just putting my weight into her saddle to try and determine what was her trigger for moving at the mounting block. I wasn't even in the saddle. So perhaps it was that one that really prompted my legit terror of getting on a horse. 

    I knew that I needed to take a break from trying to ride Faith. There was clearly something more going on and neither of us were ready to ride/be ridden. We discovered that Faith would jump sideways (and sometimes bolt) as soon as weight is put into her stirrup. So we decided to make sure that there are no medical issues causing this behavior. I had the chiropractor out and a saddle fitter to make sure that the saddle fit correctly (It didn't so I bought a new one that got the seal of approval from my wonderful saddle fitter) and I have the vet checking her out at the end of this month.

    But I also now had zero confidence in riding. Not even just Faith. The thought of getting on a horse shook me to my bones. I considered just deciding never to ride. I enjoy groundwork and liberty work. I could be fine just lunging and learning groundwork, right? Riding wasn't the end all, be all. That's one of the beautiful things about my barn - there's no pressure, no expectations. 

    Somehow, though, deciding not to ride because I was scared felt like I was quitting. One of my wonderful instructors, Sarah, told me her story of her first horse and how she pushed through that and is so glad she did. She's brilliant and I knew she was right.. I didn't want my fear to keep me from enjoying everything a partnership with Faith could offer. Besides, how could I encourage my students to work through fear and persevere even when things are tough if I'm not willing to do it myself? I actually had a student at the time who was terrified of getting on Sheba. Sarah made me get on her - which I did, even though I was petrified - to show the kiddo how it's important to work through your fears. I gotta practice what I preach, right? 

    Still, there was no denying I was scared. I worked on a lot of different things with Faith (knowing that I wasn't going to be ready to try riding her again any time soon) and one thing we practiced was lining up at the mounting block. She'd line up and stand still. I'd stand on the first step and tell her how great she was. Move to the second step - again, tell her how amazing she was. But moving to the third step? Yeah, I could do it but my knees shook and my heart raced even just a bit. Perhaps it was a mental thing because I was just bracing for her to walk off (even though she hasn't lately) and perhaps it was because I don't like heights at all and was expecting to fall. I don't know. I just know that I was scared.

    So, I decided the only thing to do was go to the expert (who'd been there all along but I knew I needed a little more one-on-one for all my issues). I reached out to my instructor/friend/boss/ mentor/hero, Kim, and asked for a riding lesson on Moose. Not Faith. First, I needed to just build my confidence back on a horse who was going to show up and be solid. If you didn't know that lesson horses are worth their weight in gold, you do now. Moose is a big gal and she's a lot of weight, and she's worth all of it in gold, platinum, silver, whatever. I knew that if I got onto Moose, she'd stand at the block.

    Of course, I had to get on first.

Moose. Photo courtesy of Brooke Chapman.

    Today was that lesson with Moose. I had been praying about it all week and especially this morning. I asked my mom to pray and I took lots of deep breaths leading up to the lesson. When I got Moose from the pasture, I asked her to please work with me and show up for me. I groomed her and took time to just ground myself with her. Kim helped me tack her up and I took her to the ring. She reminded me to be okay with the idea that it would be enough to just sit on Moose. Kim's not only a great instructor but she's a great human. She's got this otherworldly calm that just puts you at ease. She calms you down just by being there. And she.is.there. 

    I walked Moose around the ring and did her flexions to help her relax. Took a couple deep breaths myself. Kim urged me to think about my five senses as I took another lap. Okay. Time to go to the mounting block.

    We lined up at the block and I put Moose's reins over her head. I climbed up to the top step without even thinking about it - 'cause if I thought about it, I'd take another lap.. And then it was time to put my foot in the stirrup.

    I did.

    The saddle slipped ever so slightly towards me.

    Nope.

    Nope. Nope. Nope.

    I got down and walked another lap.

    We lined up again. I climbed up the steps again. Put my foot in the stirrup again. Felt the slip again. I asked Kim if I could verbalize my feelings. She said, "Of course."

    "Okay, so when I put my foot in the stirrup, the saddle slides a little sideways and it makes me nervous." Maybe I should add that the first time I fell off Faith, it was because her girth wasn't tight enough (even though I'd checked it twice) and her saddle slipped. 

    Kim understood and she took hold of the other stirrup so that the saddle wouldn't slip. I stood on that block, one foot in the stirrup. Kim glanced under Moose's neck to keep an eye on her other student. It was now or never. If I got back down those steps, I wouldn't climb back up.

    "Okay, Moose. Let's do this, girl." I gathered the reins and a good-size clump of mane into my left hand, made sure my foot was in the stirrup, and swung my other leg over her back. Kim guided my foot into the stirrup and I was on the horse.

    Oh, crap. Oh, I'm on the horse. 

    I clutched the grab strap on my saddle and took a deep breath. Rolled my shoulders up and back. Kim suggested I just sit and get comfortable. There was no pressure to ride. She walked off to check on her other student and I took a few deep breaths.

    Moose shifted her weight.    

    Oh, dear Lord, this is it, this is it, I'm gonna die. I wrapped my fingers in her mane. I took another breath. I looked at the trees and rubbed Moose's shoulders. I could do this. I needed to do this.

    Over the next three minutes or three hours or three years (really, it could have been forever, I wouldn't have known, it sure felt like forever), every time Moose shifted or twitched, I immediately tensed. My fingers flexed in her mane. 

    And then, all of a sudden, I didn't. I just sat and talked to Moose and told her what a great girl she was and how amazing she was. She wasn't walking off, she wasn't in a hurry to do anything. If all we did today was stand at the block, she was there for that. 

    I don't even know if I knew how much I needed Moose's solidarity today. 

    Eventually, Kim walked with us as we took a few steps and then just stood again. And that was it. Nothing major, nothing incredible. But I'll tell you something - I felt amazing. Is my fear completely gone? Am I ready to hop on again with no hesitation? No. Definitely not. 

    It's going to take time. It's going to take me continuing to show up and get up and ride even just a few steps. And I can't forget my girl, Faith, in the meantime because the ultimate goal is to ride her. I'll continue to work with her on the ground so once she's medically cleared, we can really figure out her riding quirks. 

I am so grateful for my Bramblewood crew that I learn alongside of every week.

    But today I rode a horse. And I'm so glad that I faed my fears and worked through them, or began to work through them. Because how can I encourage others to work through things that are hard if I won't do it myself? Not even just at the barn but at school, too. I have a personal experience of persevering to share with my students. Just another example of how horses affect all aspects of my life! 

    Stay tuned to hear more about my journeys with Moose and with Faith! 

My Horse-Of-My-Own Journey

This isn't a blog post about Pepper or Bramblewood per se or anything anyone is going to want to read. But some have asked me about the horse I keep posting on Facebook and some have had to listen to me go on and on about the ATFO and some have helped me on my journey by purchasing things from me so I thought I'd just write a blog post about the journey to hopeful horse ownership.

I'll try to keep this short. ;)

Back in the spring, I began working with Kim to consider what it would take to leap into horse ownership. Kim's really good at that, by the way. I knew that I wanted a horse of my own but I didn't want to look back in hindsight and think, man, I really didn't think that through or geez, I rushed that and now look at me. I've got experience with that kind of thing, after all. **cough cough self-published teacher book no one can ever see** I even sent my mom a picture of a horse in a rescue in WV and said, see this would be my dream horse (palomino QH mare).

Picture I sent to my mom. Her name was Aurora :)

So I resolved to begin raising the money and once I had 5K I would start casually looking. Well, you know me, that's easier said than done. Once I get an idea in my head, I want to carry it out like NOW. But I was patient, more or less. Kristin had to probably look at way more horse ads than she wanted as I "just browsed" EquineNow or 15 some odd groups on Facebook. 

Then a rescue that I followed, Heart of Phoenix in WV, (I do love rescue animals after all) popped back up in my Facebook feed. They were advertising for trainers for their 2023 Appalachian  Trainer Face-Off. Intrigued, I began to investigate. 

In a nutshell, the ATFO is operated by Heart of Phoenix. It's a 100 day competition with 30-40 rescue horses and at the end of the 100 days, the horses and their trainers compete in a 3 day competition to show what their horse has learned and, at the end of the competition, the horses are auctioned off to pre-approved adopters. These horses have all types of backgrounds - unstarted young horses, horses that just haven't been ridden in a while, feral horses, etc. The trainers come from all types of backgrounds and experiences. But one thing that I really liked was that the rescue was very up front with the fact that they didn't want trainers to push horses to be perfect in 100 days - rather just to take them as far as they could in 100 days. (They've had a few trainers just in the past few days say that their horses were not 100 day horses so they're going to keep them for a full year of training and take on another for the competition. Which is awesome.) So you know me, I was intrigued. I also liked that while you had to apply and be approved to be able to bid, being approved did not REQUIRE you to bid or adopt. It just gave you the opportunity. And there were a couple of horses that I really liked - including Aurora, the horse I'd sent a picture of to my mom.

Before I plunged ahead with the application, I had another consult with Kim to make sure I wasn't being dumb. Then I put in my application! 

Fast forward over a month and I finally got approved. I'm quite grateful to everyone who listened to me moan and groan "they're not going to approve me, gosh how long does it take to talk to a farrier, I'll never get approved" and kept reminding me to be patient. I followed my top horses on social media (another great aspect of the ATFO is that the trainers post all about their training journey on social media so you can keep up).

And I finally got approved! What's more, the level I was approved for was going to match the level of the #1 horse that I wanted - Aurora. 

Aurora on her first day at Courtney's farm. How cute is she! 

So I decided to stop looking at other horses, stop browsing Craigslist, EquineNow, 30 Facebook groups, and save for the ATFO. I decided that I'd focus on the ATFO and having the funds I needed by then. And, if I wasn't the high bidder or there wasn't a horse that was ultimately a good fit for me, then that's fine, God would just be shutting that door and I'd patiently keep looking. And I found such a peace in that. Just praying for wisdom and guidance about the ATFO in general and that God would show me if it was His will for me or not gave me such a peace. I wasn't stressing over inquiring about this horse or that horse. I had a goal and I had a plan.

There were a few other horses I liked in the ATFO but one was too short, one was not a good fit (love that HOP has given me a "personal" adoptions counselor who will be honest with me about whether or not a HOP horse is a good fit), and one was not really physically able to do what I wanted to do.

That left Aurora. And guys, let me tell you about Aurora. (I know this has gotten really long so if you've stuck with me this long, God bless you). She's a 15 year old palomino Quarter Horse. A palomino QH is like my dream horse, btw. She's 15 hands. Perfect. She has beautiful white socks and a beautiful white blaze. The best part is her trainer, Courtney, is like the sweetest lady on the planet and has put up with alllllll my many questions - and there have been many. Aurora ticks all my "unicorn" boxes. She walk/trot/canters, she doesn't act "mareish," she loves people, she's good on trails and in the arena, she's absolutely amazing. I'm going to meet her on July 22 and I cannot wait.

She's amazing.

So I began to earnestly save money for Aurora (while still praying about God's plan and to not get on my own plan). I figured, I'd raise what I could, and then if it was enough, great. If it wasn't, well, then it wasn't God's plan. I'd be upset, for sure, and mega disappointed but I'd pick myself up and move on towards the greatness God would have for me in the future.

I worked Rover jobs, I did more dog sitting than I usually do, I fed cats, fed dogs, did 4 weeks of summer school, covered all the lessons I could in the summer for instructors out of town, sold any and everything I had in my house that I no longer used/wanted (still should have sold that mixer for more than $20). I'm grateful to everyone who supported me by buying something I was selling, giving me opportunities with pet care, horseback riding lessons, etc. You've really helped and supported me. I feel like Aurora is a real tangible possibility because of the money you've helped me raise. 

I've got a bunch of spreadsheets and figures on estimated savings that I should have by August 19. I'm constantly reworking my figures (because I'm a nerd) and rewatching her videos. I've got my #hopteamaurora tshirt and tank top. I'm reminding myself not to buy stuff for a horse you.don't.yet.have. I sponsored her stall at the ATFO because I want people to see my name on her stall and have seen all my comments about how much I want her and just not even bid because they don't want to have to compete against me. I'm figuring out my bidding strategy. I'm zealous, you might say.

#hopteamAurora

I prefer to think of it as doing the natural while God provides the super. Supernatural. Maybe that made sense. Instead of just sitting around expecting that God will just drop this amazing horse into my lap, I'm doing my part to make it happen. And if it doesn't, well, it won't be because I didn't try. 

So keep your fingers crossed (and buy some dog stuff LOL) and maybe I'll be bringing home a horse in a month! 

Also - I really did try to keep this short. ;) 

We Don't Deserve Horses

 

Horses are awesome.

We don't deserve horses. There's a lot we don't deserve, I guess, in this world but two things this weekend made me realize just how much we don't deserve them and just how amazing they truly are. So settle in and listen to the stories of two horses who proved this weekend what I already knew - they are angels.

Choo and his student

Okay, so meet Choo. He's a big ole' guy with a heart of gold who can give pony rides to campers or teach cantering to an advanced student. His hooves are the size of dinner plates and are only matched by his heart. He's pictured here with one of my students who fell in love with him upon first meeting him. But who can blame her?

Anyway, to get to the story of Choo's amazingness. Saturday night, I was teaching a lesson to a pair of siblings - 5 and 3 years old. It was their second lesson. Last week, they rode Lady (our sweet little black pony) and so I got Lady out for them again. I was the only teacher giving a lesson at that hour so it was just us in the freezing wind. Lady is a great pony but she's a little older and sore in her hips sometimes and the wind probably wasn't helping so she kicked a time or two during the grooming session, just to show her discomfort so we made sure to groom her lightly. We tacked her up and took her to the arena.

The three year old got up and we began our laps around the arena. Lady walked along nicely but she had a few moments where she got irritable and kicked out her back leg. I asked an instructor who was leaving what she thought and she said it was probably the cold and that Lady would be fine. But a few more kicks and I knew the wind and cold was bothering Lady.

So I took her to the middle of the arena and got the little girl off. I asked Mom and the two kids to stay in the middle of the arena and that I was going to do a horse change. Mom said sure and so I dashed off to swap Lady out. It was cold and it was getting dark but the little boy still needed his time on the horse.

I snapped Lady's reins off, undid her girth, pulled off her saddle, and tossed it all on the ground behind me (knowing it wouldn't be in the way because I was the only one still teaching). I took her back to her stall and ran to the tack room to grab a bigger girth for Choo (since he's about 3x her size). I dashed to Choo's stall and grabbed his halter.

As I opened the stall door to get Choo, I asked him, "Choo, I know you're done and I know it's cold and you're tired but can you please help me out and give the rest of this lesson because Lady just can't do it and so please help me out, Choo." I led him out and quickly tacked him up (shedding my gloves and coat as I raced back to the tack room for a bigger girth - the cold no longer registering). 

I took Choo back to the arena and got the little boy up in the saddle (he loved being so tall) and began the ride. And, as I knew he would be, Choo was a rock star. There wasn't much time left so I had the five year old "work on" looking where he wanted the horse to go. He'd look left, I'd lead Choo left (because the horse goes where you look), he'd look right and I'd lead Choo right. Choo zig-zagged his way all across that ring in the freezing cold, with the boy's laughter echoing in the night. He stepped up and took care of that little boy, allowed him to finish his lesson on a good note, and helped me have a successful lesson. Choo is an amazing horse and a true lesson horse and I love him and we don't deserve him but he is there for us each.and.every.lesson. 

That's Choo's story. Here's Pepper's.

Me and my very best girl.

Today, I gave a lesson at 1 and then I was done. I talked with another instructor some and that was really fun and then I tacked Pepper up and we headed to the ring. I wanted to get in some riding time because A) I love riding and B) it wasn't freezing cold and windy like it was yesterday. There were three students having lessons so Pepper and I just wandered around the ring. We walked, we did some lateral work, and we just enjoyed being in the sun.

Then I went to dismount and, somehow, I didn't do it right. My left foot got caught in the stirrup and twisted as I dismounted (which I'm not graceful at anyway but this hadn't happened before). So I landed on the ground with my right foot, left foot stuck in the stirrup and bent to the left, saddle slipping down Pepper's side. Pain shot through my left knee, shin, and foot. My foot was stuck. Pepper jumped a bit when the saddle started sliding and then she.stood.still. 

Now, let me tell you, that one of my biggest horseback riding fears (especially since I started riding Western) has been that Pepper will spook, I will fall off, my foot will get stuck in the stirrup, which will cause Pepper to panic even more and she will run off and I will be dragged because my foot is stuck in the stirrup. No lie, this morning I was looking at Western safety stirrups online because of that very fear (and I will now be buying some). Because Pepper in the old days? Pepper when I first met her? Pepper even six months ago? That Pepper, when she felt the saddle slipping and awkward weight in her saddle, she would have flipped the heck out. She would have started freaking, jumping sideways, trying to get away. I mean, I can't say that is 100% what would have happened but I'm pretty sure I'm right.

But not today. Today, when I was off balance and struggling and trying not to panic but to stay calm, Pepper was.my.rock. Pepper startled but then, I swear, she realized I was in trouble, and she did not move. She didn't move as I tried to wiggle my foot out. She didn't move when I asked Emma (my other savior today) to come hold her so I could get free. She didn't move as I stood on my right tiptoes and managed to free my foot. She didn't move as I leaned against her side, waiting for my foot to stop throbbing so I could walk.

She didn't move.

Pepper and I have a bond and it gets stronger all the time. Today was proof of that bond of the trust we've built up between us. I don't deserve the amazing creature that is Pepper but I truly believe that today would have been much worse if I didn't have that bond with her. Today, one of my biggest fears came true (praise God it was just when I was dismounting and not when we were moving because the outcome may not have been the same) and my horse got me through it. 

This weekend, I am grateful for all the horses in my life, for all my Bramblewood equines, but most especially this weekend, I'm grateful for Choo and for Pepper. We don't deserve them but they show up for us every single day.

And now I'm off to buy Western safety stirrups. ;) 

You Can Either Kill My Self-Esteem or You Can Help Me Thrive

Okay, so since I know you are all avid readers of my blog (come on, let me have this win), you know that I absolutely love the stable where I ride. I've been given permission by the owner to use the name of the barn in my blog moving forward so here it is: Bramblewood. Isn't that just a magnificent name? Just makes you think of all things horsey and woodsy and naturey. Like dryads and nymphs. 

I love Bramblewood and I love everything about it. The horses, the instructors, the other riders, the barn kittens - I could go on and on (and I usually do). But the number 1 thing I love about Bramblewood? 

They accept me for who.I.am. They don't judge me for being heavier than I should be or not having the cutest clothes or not always knowing what to say. The barn owner actually pushes me to be who I am and encourages me to ask assertive questions and say what I'm really feeling (still working on that of course). But the focus of this today is the acceptance part. 

When I first reached out to Bramblewood a year and a half ago about lessons, they didn't ask me my age or my height or my weight. They knew I was an adult but that was about it. And of course I first had to attend a Welcome Workshop (amazing) before I got into the program but then I hit the ground running. No one made a comment about the fact that I'm a little heavy (which I am always working on and forgetting to work on and committing to working on and slacking off). No, they just matched me up with a horse and we went from there. 

This weekend, I heard about another barn in passing and I decided to check out their website just to see. Boy, they fancy. They have like 40 stalls and three stories in their barn (you ever heard of a horse on a second story? I haven't. Maybe I'm uncultured). Trails and indoor arenas and dressage arenas and yada yada yada. Yep. They fancy.

So I checked out their lesson page. They had lots of information about their riding program but one thing on their page was key to me and stood out to me - no riders over ____ pounds. That was it. If you were over this amount of weight, there was no room for you at this barn. I'm about 15 pounds over that limit (you can use your imagination to figure out the limit) and, had I been searching for a barn to ride at and seen that, my self-esteem would.have.been.crushed. That would have been akin to them telling me "you are too fat to be one of us. You would break our horses." Man. Can you imagine? Missing out on the wonderful connections and lessons horses can teach us because I like cake and don't like working out? 

Now, I'm not saying that barn owners and instructors shouldn't be careful when pairing a heavier set rider with a horse. There's a cute, fun little dapple gray pony guy at my barn that I'm not ever going to ride because I'm too big for him. I'll never ride Lady or Magic. 

But I (and those like me) shouldn't be turned away completely because I'm overweight. That just reinforces everything  that I tell myself about myself. If I'd read that when I was looking for a horse barn, that would have stopped me right there. Why was I even considering going back to horseback riding? I'm too fat, I'll hurt the horse, no one will like me, they say on their website that they don't want people like me. And that would have started me into a downward spiral and I'd never have found the joy that I have now.

Luckily, I found Bramblewood. A place where even if you weren't built for riding, you could still find a home. A place where groundwork and connection work - moments where you don't even get on the horse - provide just as much a home as the lessons from the back of the horse. The staff at Bramblewood and the instructors at Bramblewood don't blink an eye when they see me. I still remember a lesson when I was just a couple months into riding when I was on Julian and I went to mount him and he shifted because his back or his leg was hurting (I can't remember which) and the owner of the barn had me get off immediately and switch to Moose. And I think she could tell that I was self-conscious and worried that I'd hurt Julian because I was too large and so she went out of her way to make it clear that he wasn't at his best and it wasn't me (whether that was true or not). So I'm grateful.

I did some more research and found another local barn that isn't accepting adult riders right now because of consideration of the horses' size and abilities. While that isn't as painful to my self-esteem as being told I'm over a limit, it still would have depressed me if I'd found that first.

So, to make a long story short, there are a zillion reasons why I love Bramblewood. But first and foremost is that looks and size and number of pimples don't matter. Even if you aren't "built" for riding and most pairs of breeches don't fit right, there' still a place for you at Bramblewood. You can be a part of the change in the horse world that is focusing more on connection and just being with the horses. Just because you don't fit the mold for the ideal rider, you can still belong at Bramblewood. 

I'm on my way to being an instructor at Bramblewood and I'm more excited about that than I can remember being about anything in the past. I'm hopeful to use my stories and my experiences to help all my students (whether they be overweight adults like me or trim little 11 year olds) be their best selves. Because it takes a village. Horses, barn kittens, fellow riders, instructors, barn owners ... it takes everyone.

And I'm so grateful that Bramblewood is my village.

Life Isn't Always Rainbows

*disclaimer - I'm not even sure this makes sense. Just my thoughts from tonight. Read at your own risk.*

Sometimes, life is a big ole' messy downpour. Puddles, rain down your shirt, soaked sock because you didn't realize there was a hole in your boot. Chilly wind in your face. Cold rain just for good measure. Sometimes, even going to your happy place isn't really enough.

But you still gotta appreciate the small, good moments, even if you have to look extra super hard for it.

Today was a rough day. It was go-go-go at work from my arrival at 7:45 until my departure at 4:15 (15 minutes later than I wanted to leave). I did IDs and Chromebooks by myself this morning, solved tech problems, handed out sub computers, sent emails, talked Beta Convention roommates - all before 8:45. From there it was a full on busy day of teaching a mystery lesson (my favorite lesson), solving more tech problems (and trying to get kids to behave for my mom who was their sub), enjoying lunch for 5 minutes (which was interrupted twice for ID issues), receipting my ID money and making copies for one class while forgetting to make more for the other, watching ISS so their teacher could go on lunch, running to the bookkeeper's office to figure out how my money was off (I can't count, that's how), racing to my last two classes of the day (and sending a kid to get my Crocs from my office because I was done with the cute heels), dashing out to car duty, comforting a kid who was crying because she missed her bus and helping her get in touch with someone who could come pick her up, and finally leaving 15 minutes later than I wanted (and then having to stop by my work bestie's house to drop off her computer). While also forgetting to make copies for tomorrow and translate two of my mystery lesson characters into Spanish. Oh well. Guess I'll get there early tomorrow.

Anyway, to make a long story short (yeah right), by the time I got home and changed into my barn clothes, I was later leaving the house than I wanted and thus later getting to the barn. Which isn't really a bad thing because I didn't have a lesson or anything, I was just using one of my half lease rides so the timing didn't really matter - I just like to be there when I say I'm going to be there, which in this case was 5. Because that's how my brain works.

So suffice it to say that by the time I got to the barn, I wasn't in the best mood. I got to learn some not-so-glamorous horsey stuff (I love that the barn owner and other instructors let me listen in and watch while they do the basic horsey stuff because I'm a nerd and while I am now immensely glad I have a mare, I still like learning things) and then I went and got Pepper. 

I brushed her some.

I gave her a mint. 

I rested my head on her neck and breathed. 

And then I took her up to the round pen to do some connection work. I've been watching Warwick Schiller videos and trying to "Lead with Energy." 

But my heart and my head just weren't in it. It was cold (my thermal gloves need to arrive) and Pepper was feeding off my vibes that today just wasn't a good day. I let her mosey around the round pen and did some matching steps but I didn't really feel like trying any of the Warwick stuff I've learned. Pepper seemed a little extra tense (it was darker than when we usually go up to the round pen and there were some strange noises) but I knew I didn't have the right headspace and patience for Masterson stuff either. 

One of the amazing things that I love about horses is how in tune they are with our emotions and feelings. I got the awesome opportunity to help with a Girls Scout group on Sunday (best.day.ever) and it was so fun explaining to them how horses mirror our energy and respond to our moods. So as I watched Pepper, I knew that she was responding to my mood but I also knew that I was not any use to her in my current state and that I just wasn't going to get out of my funk right then.

So, feeling a little defeated, I put her lead rope back on and we left the round pen. 

Sounds like no big deal, right? We left the round pen.

But it is a big deal. Because Pepper does not like leaving the round pen. She thinks it is going to eat her. The last few times we've been in there, Pepper has flipped out when leaving, even rearing a little on the lead rope. Chris helped me with some tips and suggestions the last time and I made sure to use them tonight - waiting at the open gate for a few minutes before walking through to show her that it was fine - and she left the round pen with no issues. 

And that was that. After that, I cleaned out her hooves, put her away and gave her the rest of her mints. It was dark and cold and so I headed home. 

There'd been no magical ah-ha moment. I hadn't felt super connected with Pepper like I have other times. I didn't feel any amazing surges of joy. My mom asked how it was as we talked on the way home and I said, "Fine." I talked more about my anxiety and issues and how I wish I was more assertive than about my time at the barn and that's not how I usually am.

But now as I'm sitting here at my computer spilling out my guts and trying to be transparent with the 4 people that read this, I am realizing that even when things are hard and they're tough and you're not at your best mentally or emotionally, you can still take comfort in the little things. Because without the little things, the big things don't matter either.

Not every day is going to be a home run. Not every work day is going to be amazing, not every moment spent at the barn is going to be transcendent (though any time at the barn is still a blessing).

So when the going gets tough and the headspace gets out of whack, you gotta remember the small things and remember that tomorrow is a brand new day, a fresh start, a chance for a new opportunity.

Today? 

Today, Pepper left the round pen with all 4 hooves on the ground.

And I'll take it.

Pepper Likes Me For Me

My beautiful "dragon pony."

Yesterday morning was not a great morning for me. Sometimes, I get these moments when I get in my head and find myself stuck in a pattern of negative thoughts with no way out - at least none that I can see. It happens less these days, for which I am definitely grateful, but when it hits, it's hard to talk myself out of the spiral and into a better headspace.

Yesterday was one of those times. 

I was going to go to an equine ministry open house type thing in Wellford and I was really excited about it - until I started getting ready. That's when the negative thoughts began to creep in.

"You won't know anyone and so it's going to be really awkward because you won't have anyone to talk to." 

"Man, you've gained back all the weight you lost over the summer and everyone will notice that you're not some trim, slim, athletic girl."

"People will notice you don't have the cutest hairstyle - are you really going to wear your hair like that?"

"Haha, even putting on makeup won't help you look better." 

"You're going to make everyone at your current barn mad at you because you're thinking of volunteering somewhere else."

"Why even leave the house?" 

The thoughts just kept spiraling. I FaceTimed my mom and asked her about my hair. I messaged my best friend for some wisdom (which she dispensed because she is amazing). It also didn't help that I've been on Match.com lately and I decided to look and see who had "viewed my profile" and a number of them were guys I'd messaged because I thought we'd be perfect together ... yet they'd viewed my profile and moved on without a word - so clearly something about me was not appealing.

By the time I left my house, I wasn't even excited to go to the ranch. I always get anxious about going new places because my brain is always like "where do I park, how will I know where to go, what if I go to the wrong place, what if I got the date wrong?" but add all the other thoughts on top of that and, boy oh boy, I was definitely struggling. 

So I talked to my mom on the way and just decided to do my best to have a good time. And, since the experience at the ranch isn't the focus of this blog post (I know, I know, you're wondering if there even is a focus), I'll just say that it was amazing, I felt the spirit of the Lord moving in me, and I can't wait to spend some time there. I was quite glad that I went. 

However, the real "ah-ha" moment came when I went to my lesson at my barn (the barn where I was worried it'd be like I was 'cheating' on my friends there if I spent any time at the equine ministry even though the rational part of me knows that they wouldn't disown me for it *fingers crossed*). I wasn't really feeling like riding. It was a dreary day and I just wanted to spend time with Pepper.

So I did. And while I worked with her, while we worked on standing still and being present, on leading with energy, and some small practical things like turning on the haunches/forehand, my worries from that morning seemed so inconsequential. Pepper didn't care what I looked like. She didn't care if I was a little heavier (although I'm sure she'd like it if I lost some weight and had a stronger core haha) or if I was dealing with some acne issues. She likes me for me. 

As I connected with her, something awesome happened (and if this is a normal thing that horses do, don't tell me, I want to live in my bubble). I would stand next to her head, holding the lead rope, and we'd both be facing the same direction. Then, without twitching the lead rope, applying any pressure, or anything, I'd pivot 90 degrees. And, without hesitation, Pepper would turn to once again stand beside me. 

She gets me. She has no expectations of me. She grounds me. She reminds me that being at peace with yourself and with those around you are what's important. To me, Pepper is a reflection of God's love for me. Pepper was created by God, as all horses were, and is a part of one of the most intelligent species there is. Pepper reminds me that she's happy with the way I am and that so is God (something I often forget). 

Being with Pepper, working with her, learning to watch her cues and see when she speaks to me, helps so much with my anxious brain. Outward appearances are great and all, but my self-esteem should not be based on what I think I should look like. Rather, I should take a page from Pepper's book and just be content to be with those who care about me. Who value and love me for me.

Because what Pepper and I have? That connection? It's only growing stronger, deeper, more meaningful. And if she's happy with me (and this is a horse who has an "I bite" sign on her stall) then I sure as heck can be happy with me, too.

Cute pic of Frigg and Lady!