So turn on the light…

Of course I have fears, who doesn’t?

Airplanes, heights, water, bees, and the dark… the list of things that can inspire someone to develop shaky knees, racing heart beats and jagged breath is infinite.

We all have something we are afraid of, right?

Well yes, however you shouldn’t fear what you love.

But what if you do?

In my youth I never thought about fears. I have flown in airplanes, even helped fly a couple, I have been in helicopters and watched the earth pass beneath my feet, climbed mountains, swam in the deep part of the ocean, camped in the deep dark woods, threw rocks at bees nests, poked sticks at snakes… and I have ridden horses. And ridden and ridden and ridden.

I loved to canter best of all (lope in the cowboy world). The only thing better than a flat out canter was a canter between jumps.

And jumping – nothing was more fun than leaning up on your horse’s neck and sailing over a jump, it was like flying.

I even remember how much fun it was when Cinnabar, a young sorrel filly, bucked her way through an entire show and I got a ribbon just for staying on. That was my favorite ribbon; one I still have tucked away in a box of memories somewhere.

I still remember when they introduced us to vaulting at a school where I rode. I was first in line, wanting to try my hand at standing on the horse’s back and dangling along its side as it trotted.

When my mother looked back at me from the back of a horse with an anxious, forlorn and obviously uncomfortable look as I sent her off on the “beginners” trail ride and joined my friends on the advance trail — my “oh so thoughtful” gift to her one Mother’s Day — I remember giggling and waving goodbye.

Sure, I got stepped on and bitten and kicked once or twice, and I relished the bruises as proof of my commitment.

But I never fell. Not once. And I had no fear. I was in control, or so I thought, and it never occurred to me that there was danger.

Sorry Mom. I get it now. Perhaps it’s karma.

Something changed over the years. Something I was unaware of. Maybe it was motherhood, maturity or common sense creeping in, who knows.

Then I had “an equine” wreck in August that I think put the icing on the cake, but that is actually a funny story, and one that I will save for another day.

But suffice it to say, I came out of the mud with more than a hoof print on my skin – instead it became imbedded in my mind and worse, even deeper in some involuntary part of my make-up.

And believe it or not, I still wasn’t aware of the horrible monster growing inside my psyche until I got my beautiful Sancha.

My sweet, sweet girl… Her only fault is her age. She is young. And with that comes spontaneity, impulsiveness, occasional rebellion and even a sense of humor.

She is smart, beautiful and steady as a rock. If she does something you didn’t expect, you can bet she planned it in advance and somewhere in that horsey head of hers, there is echoing laughter or maybe even a flash of temper, but spooky she is not.

I knew that would come with the territory of having a fledgling. I accepted it and prepared for it, or so I thought.

But I was not prepared for the long-term effect of having experienced the (all too new to me) sensation of lying on my back with a set of hooves coming over top of me.

Nor was I prepared for the involuntary reaction of fear at the slightest little horsey twitch as my subconscious predicts repeat occurrences of said horrible experience.

Have I “cowboyed up”? You betcha I have.

But there is a catch.

For me, I have learned that to “cowboy up” is to crash through the ice and wait for a thin skin to refreeze, only to crash through again, each experience worse in its lasting effect than the one before.

In other words, it hasn’t helped me defeat the fear, it has only confirmed it, and in some ways made it worse.

And acknowledging that fear, once I put my pride aside and named it for what it was – trust me I have beaten myself to a pulp over the failing — has given me some ability to move forward.

Only now I am doing it with caution and in a calculated way because the most important thing is to give my baby all the tools she needs and all the consistency required to build the best foundation within her for a good future.

I have forced myself to lead 800 lb. little miss “what am I going to do next”, and I have done more bomb proofing exercises with that poor baby than any horse should have to endure.

She is now comfortable with fog horns, whistles, huge plastic tarps covering her and under her feet, walks on wooden objects, over bright foam noodles, runs through a gauntlet of streamers and windsocks and twirling plastic flowers as if it’s a walk in the park and casually nibbles at the ground while dragging strange objects behind her or suspended from her neck.

Heck, half the time she eats the items that are expected to frighten her and then moves on when the taste doesn’t satisfy her finicky palate.

She has crossed every hurdle placed before her and passed with flying colors. She is smart and unflappable and I have little doubt will be a brilliant pleasure horse when the time comes.

Which incidentally is further confirmation that the problem is completely mine. And I have spent hours and hours agonizing over it and immeasurable amounts of time trying to pump myself up and wrestle this ever-growing monster inside my mind.

But one thing I always knew and a point she has driven home to me repeatedly, is she can feel my fear and she is impetuous enough in her youthfulness to capitalize on it.

What that has translated to for me is an even further release of pride and knowing when to ask for help.

I made a commitment when I entered into this territory to do it right for her, no matter what. And I have learned that means letting go of my pride, which is a very, very difficult thing to do.

Because if I don’t, she will continue to capitalize on my weaknesses (Ooooh, “weakness”, that’s hard to say!), and she will develop bad habits and traits that may never be undone.

Enter friends and experts…

You learn who your friends are when you truly need help and don’t know where to turn. And I have found a gem of a friend who is willing to do the heavy lifting and start the basics for me, working towards my goals without asking a thing in return.

My standards are high and I want perfection. I want her to learn the best of the best and have the same consistency every time, all with careful consideration to how that handling will translate in years to come, which unfortunately is something I cannot provide until I overcome my fears.

And that friend’s investment of time and energy in building those foundations with my little one has allowed me time to seek help in overcoming my fears so that I can accomplish what I set out to do all those months ago.

So while I am going through therapeutic lessons and learning to battle my demons under the tutelage of a very caring and compassionate but tough instructor, my savior is making sure my little one is getting the guidance she needs to grow and become what she surely can be.

Can it be accomplished?

Oscar Wilde said, “The basis of optimism is sheer terror,” well I guess that makes me the ultimate optimist.

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