Our Crazy Equestrian Life

 As we are rapidly approaching my daughter’s 4^th show season (she shows Saddlebred horses), I can’t help but think of all that her big brother has missed.

 

See, grieving a child is not about the memories. It is about all of the memories you will never share. All of the events that you will miss out on. All of the life that was left unlived.

 

My daughter competed in her first show on the day before we held Logan’s memorial service. She did extremely well taking 2^nd and 4^th places in her classes. She was not quite 10 years old and was competing in 9-10  WT (9-10 year olds competing in walk and trot).

 

This year we will be starting her 4^th show season. She will be competing in 11-13 WTC (11-13 year olds competing in walk, trot and canter). It will be her 2^nd year in this division and she has looked amazing in lessons.

 

It is so hard to believe that Logan has never been a part of this horse-show world that we are so deeply involved in now. I can imagine he would have been her biggest fan (and probably would have had some choice words when he felt she was judged unfairly).

 

Our barn family is comprised of the people that are our closest circle. We love them fiercely and love us in return. Logan would have been a welcome addition to our “Island of Misfit Toys”.

 

In so many ways, I feel stuck in my life. But, on the other hand, I often feel guilty that we have this whole part of life that Logan was never a part of.

 

We are back from our first “big” show of the season. Our daughter had 3 great rides. She placed in all of her classes and was showing in the 11-17 WTC division. She is only 13 and this is only her second year in WTC and she held her own against some stiff competition. She even placed 4^th in the championship class!

 

We are planning to try a new horse for the next show (which is in 3 short weeks!) so she has a lot of training to do between now and then, but I know she will do amazing!

 

I know big brother is watching over from her and cheering her on…

I Lie

 

I lie.

 

Every single day. I lie.

 

I wake up in the morning and I put on a mask of make-up. I dress in my armor of my professional wardrobe. I fix my helmet of hair. Then I put on my brave, happy, professional face and walk out the door.

 

All day, I lie. To coworkers, employees, supervisors, friends, family. I tell them I am fine. I tell them I am having a great day. I tell them I am happy.

 

I say things like “I’m great, how are you?” and “I’m having a good day” or “I’m doing well”.

 

Because I am afraid of the truth.

 

The truth that it takes almost every ounce of my energy every.single.day. to put on this show.

 

The truth that I am crumbling on the inside.

 

The truth that I am barely surviving, much less thriving.

 

The truth that my family is broken and still raw from the pain of our son’s death, even after 3 years.

 

The truth that every month is a balancing act of paying bills and hoping we have enough to make it through.

 

The truth is that my life was forever changed on January 2, 2018 and I don’t know how to live the one I have now.

 

So I lie.

 

Because people are uncomfortable with grief and struggle and mental health.

 

Because I don’t want to always feel like I am the wet blanket.

Because talking about it makes it real and I am not ready for that.

Mental Illness IS Illness

I called out sick from work with a migraine.

 

I do not have a migraine.

 

What I did have was a terrible panic attack that started at about 6 am and lasted for over 4 hours.

 

But I can’t tell my boss that. I can’t reveal a mental illness and expect that to be a valid excuse for using my PTO.

 

Read that again.

 

I CAN’T USE MY MENTAL ILLNESS TO TAKE A SICK DAY.

 

There is something so wrong about that statement.

 

Things my high-functioning anxiety causes: 

·         When someone doesn’t reply right away, I think I have done something wrong

·         When someone shows concern about me, I become more worried about the same thing

·         I go to bed late and wake up early

·         I obsess over things other people probably don’t even notice

·         I replay conversations in my head…over and over and over

·         I am consumed by every mistake I make and continually beat myself up over it

·         I know I am capable, but I don’t really believe in myself

·         In every situation, the worst case scenario is my primary thought

·         Sometimes I am too mentally and physically exhausted to get out of bed

·         I am good under pressure and work hard, but I still procrastinate

·         Periods of procrastination are followed by long periods of hard work to the point of burn out

·         I want to be social, but when the time comes I feel dread and want to cancel

·         I overthink and overwork due to the fear of failure

·         I always…always feel like I am disappointing someone

·         I struggle to believe people genuinely like me

 

I think the worst part is the guilt. When I can’t make myself get in the car and go to work at one of my facilities, I feel guilty-like I am letting everyone down. I question my value, as a person, wife, mother, employee. I am starting to understand some of the psychological reasons that make it difficult to be on the road, but I am nowhere near knowing how to solve them.

 

Some people would argue that I should just push through. What they do not understand is that is not always possible. Anxiety manifests physically in me. I shake, my heart races, my muscles tense, my chest hurts. I physically cannot safely operate a motor vehicle.

 

We have to do better. We have to normalize mental illness. We have to offer valid and effective treatment options. We have to help patients get the help they need. We have to stop dismissing it. We have to stop equating mental illness with weakness. We have to stop glorifying “pushing through”.

 

The strange thing is that, as someone who suffers with anxiety, you would think I would know how to recognize and deal with it in others, especially my own family. But I am not always very good at that.

 

The worst thing someone having an anxiety attack or even just heightened anxiety can experience (besides the anxiety itself) is lack of understanding from their loved ones.

 

Some things that help me during an anxiety attack:

·         Patience…please be patient with me and please don’t pepper me with questions

·         Understanding…please know that I do not know what (for the most part) is causing my anxiety. Yes, there are triggers, but sometimes anxiety happens for absolutely no logical reason.

·         Quiet…When I am anxious, I become hyper-sensitive to my environment, especially noise (which can be a real challenge with 2 teenagers and 3 dogs).

·         Breathing…Sometimes I just have to remind myself to breath in and breath out. Slowly and repetitively.

·         Comfort items…watching a favorite TV show or movie, reading a favorite book, even changing into more comfortable clothing. (fun fact-people with anxiety tend to watch the same TV shows and movies and read the same books over an over because they already know the ending).

Medication…I am sure this will cause some controversy, but when my anxiety is at it’s worst, my prescription anti-anxiety medication is the only thing that will break the cycle

Thank You

 

I have heard it said that sometimes people come into our lives and stay, and some are there for only a season and then leave.

 

I believe there is value in both.

I have learned that terminating toxic relationships is your right, actually-it’s your responsibility. Sometimes those relationships are people you thought would be there for life and were instead, only there for a season. Here’s the big thing though, sometimes those toxic relationships are family.

 

I will say it again for those in the back-SOMETIMES FAMILY IS TOXIC AND YOU HAVE EVERY RIGHT AND THE RESPONSIBILITY TO TERMINATE THOSE CONNECTIONS.

 

So I have a few people to thank for where I am today:

 

To my parents: thank you for always encouraging me, believing in me and raising me to be a good human (even though I still fall short). Thank you for always loving me, no matter what.

 

To the toxic bitch that I thought was my friend: thank you for teaching me that people can say pretty things to your face and spread hate behind your back. You haven’t made me paranoid, but you did teach me to be very careful as to who I let into my circle. Also-20+ years after you wished my husband a speedy divorce on our wedding day-we are still happily married and have lived through shit you can’t even imagine.

 

To the employer that took a chance on me: thank you for jump-starting a career that has led me to a great job that provides well for my family.

 

To the teachers that believed in me: thank you for taking the time to see past the façade and recognize the insecure, self-conscious girl I really was and for working with her in that space.

 

To the malignant narcissist that almost ruined my family: thank you for masquerading as a godly man and friend. You showed your true colors when the chips were down and now I know the red flags that indicate I may be dealing with someone like you.

 

To all of my bosses over the years: many of you taught me valuable things that have help propel my career forward. Some of you taught me what not to do. Some of you taught me how to treat people well and make them want to work hard for you. Some of you taught me when to recognize that it is time to get out.

 

To the crazy woman that fucked with my girls: we are settled up, but just know-you taught me where to draw the line.

 

To the friends and family that disappeared after Logan died: thank you for teaching me that tragedies reveal who is really with you and who is not.

 

To the friends that lasted: thank you for always sticking by me.

 

To the friends that have embraced us since Logan died: thank you for being part of our small, but very close circle.