Happy Thanksgiving

To all my dear readers,

Over the next few days, I will be going through something called "animal withdrawal". Not only will I be away from Dakota, I have also left my nervous, anxious goldendoodle Bailey with his grandma. I have also realized that I could quite possibly end up being one of those moms that hides in the bushes the first day of preschool. I swore I would never be that way, nor will I ever drive a mini-van. Hopefully the 2nd of those two promises ends up to be upheld.

I will be venturing to Connecticut to spend Thanksgiving with my amazing man and his entire extended family. I will also be riding with stepmother. This entails riding a horse other than Dakota... something I have not even done since my major fall off of Cinnamon. This will be a personal opportunity for growth as well as a mental challenge.

I wish everyone a WONDERFUL Thanksgiving holiday, and I will be back in action next week!

Falling For You

After Dakota and I had just gotten comfortable with our "waltz", we had our first fall together. It was my 2nd official fall after my first fall off of Cinnamon. But I had been waiting for this one- the one that Dakota and I would share. And it happened the exact way I always expected it would...she tripped! Over her own 2 front hooves! She fell face first and I had no choice but to be catapulted over the front of her. I immediately tried to stand up, but felt tension in my neck and was somewhat dazed. Luckily, another rider was in the ring next to us and came over and asked if I was ok. And surprisingly, I was. I wasn't scared. I didn't feel sick like I did the first time. In fact, I smiled. And the most surprising of all was Dakota's reaction to the fall. Most horses would take off and flee out of fear. Instead, she stood behind me. She nudged my elbow and arm with her muzzle. She was asking me, "Are you ok, mommy?" And there it was. The first acknowledgement- I actually love and trust my rider and owner. I had stood in her stall for hours and hours for this moment. For this moment of her making the decision, "ok, I will accept you into my life". And yes, maybe it took a brutal fall, but it was finally there...the trust. All I could do was smile. The other rider kept asking me questions and asking me if I was ok, and I think my answers shocked her. Especially after I realized I was dripping blood down my face.

Trust is one of those words that we hear so often used in society. It is so easy to lose and a long process of gaining in one another. I don't know why I expected any different from an animal with feelings and emotions. How is she different? Yes, her brain may not have the capacity ours does for memory and learning. But she has feelings. She feels the wind from miles away, she senses storms coming towards us before the radar detects it- so it was a no brainer that she could read me like an open book.

The other rider helped walk us back to the barn, and I immediately asked my trainer "Do we have a first aid kit?" She walked up and said, "What happened!?" as she knew blood was dripping down my face. But I didn't care! I was relieved! I smiled back saying, "Oh we just tripped, we're fine!" I cleaned up my wounds, and my trainer made me get back in the saddle. I said, "Ok...I'm up here....any more tricks we have to do to prove we are fine?!" I did it with no fear. All the anxiety, all the woe- it was completely gone. All the trust in the world had been handed to me by an animal- a flea bit gray quarter horse.

Waltzing to the trot....

As I sit and watch my piano student carefully play through a piece of music she had 2 weeks to practice as if she is going to potentially break the keys or even worse "play a wrong note" I can't help but think, why? Why so cautiously do you play something that is meant to be a dance, a waltz, something that could move someone to tears? I am led to think about my riding immediately. Every note she played in front of me, anxiety was placing a wrath on her hands' abilities to do what she knows. This student is not one who spends every week coming to her lesson without practicing. In fact, she practices each and every day. She has amazing musical talent- so why so cautiously? I realized its because of her nature to want everything to be perfect. Her hands were so stiff from aiming for perfection that the piece of music had completely lost life- and she was playing it loaded with mistakes.

All I can hear beyond the music is the voice of my riding instructor in the background saying, "just relax. You are so tense and Dakota feels it all... You aren't letting yourself trust her. Enjoy your ride, don't worry the entire time about falling." Now it all made sense as I watched this student play. Music can be just a piece of paper when observed simply, but to true musicians who value music at a higher price than paper, it is a crushing blow the day you can't play the piece you have practiced over and over again until it's perfect. This child was waiting for that fall- that crushing blow. She wasn't enjoying what she was trying to perfect so deeply.

The following weeks of riding, all I could try and do was relax. Enjoy the weather, enjoy the achievements Dakota and I were able to accomplish once all I did was simply relax. It was like we were in a waltz together- a combo of learning extended and collected trotting, the sitting trot, our 2-point at both the walk and trot. I wasn't worried about the crushing blow of a fall anymore- I had fallen in love with this magical creature.

Riding has this magical power similar to music. You have to practice to become amazing at it but you have to enjoy the journey, you can't dread each and every ride. Sure, there are days where you will have a horrible ride and frustrate each other to no end. I've felt that way with the piano before and all I want to do is bang the keys till they break off. So why do I keep coming back? Why don't we all just throw the towel in and quit? Because there are divine forces at work beyond our control- gifts we have been given and relationships we make in the process.

My relationship with Dakota hasn't just grown her and I. My mom has the ability to talk to me about her passion which she can no longer pursue because of arthritis. She can give me advice and for once I can listen. I can listen to my peers, co-workers, and my amazing man when they have to bring me back down from my dillusional thinking. And this all came from my relationship with Dakota. And we wonder why animal therapy works?

"Let your faith be bigger than your fear"

I spent the day before the show prepping Dakota- her mane, her tack, everything. Everything except our relationship. We were taking steps backwards in our rides together. Every practice session became filled with frustration on both ends. The day of the show, there is always a "schooling" before the show actually begins. This is really a practice time in the ring with your trainer and any other horses that are planning to show with their riders. At the time, I had a little girl leasing from me who was also going to be showing Dakota. During my schooling, I couldn't seem to get Dakota's trot under control. Not the sitting trot, not the extended trot, just the regular ole trot. Even with voice commands like "trot" and "walk" instead of clicking noises, she was clearly agitated and anxious and so was I. The more frustrated and anxious I would get, she would take it all in and give it right back to me. She was being a true mare. Once the show began, my trainer pulled me right before my first class from the show because Dakota didn't seem like her mind was in the right place. Neither was mine. I was so focused on just participating- I wasn't even thinking about my safety, let alone hers. I was devastated. I didn't care if I got a ribbon for last place with zebra print that said "World's worst rider". I just wanted to participate. As the judge started giving commands like, "All riders please trot", she started asking the riders in my age appropriate class to perform commands that Dakota and I hadn't even had time to practice or learn. At that moment, I was extremely grateful my trainer had made that decision, regardless of my disappointment.

The day after the show, I took the first step to move beyond my disappointment. I set a new goal- I would compete in a show in February or March, not two weeks away. Not even a month away. I needed to overcome my fear, and part of doing so was having faith in Dakota's natural instincts. My next lesson, I worked on just being comfortable in other rings, walking her around the grounds, letting her graze. In fact, I began talking and singing to her everywhere we went. It was like a scene out of Seabiscuit. I set dates with other riders at the barn so I could get saddle time on days that family members or my wonderful man couldn't make it out to the barn. I began putting in the time with her, getting comfortable with her. And everything began to change. It didn't involve shredded wheat (okay, maybe a little) and it didn't involve letting her do whatever she wanted. It involved me learning that I can be firm and loving at the same time. It involved me taking risks that I never imagined- having faith and allowing it to be bigger than my fear.

Do your ears hang low?

Part of trusting Dakota came with the understanding of her body language. Every fear or emotion she was dealing with I needed to learn to read through her only means of communication- body language. I knew that if her ears were pinned all the way back, she was NOT happy. I knew to always give her a pat when walking behind her. But each and every lesson, I was constantly asking my trainer questions like, "Are these relaxed ears or spooky ears?", "What is she looking at?", or "Why did she just make that noise with her nose like she is pissed off?"( which in fact means she is relaxed). Even when she would whinny, I would get nervous. Is she yelling? Is she upset? NO. I was constantly trying to find ways to see her in a negative light- I wasn't realizing that she was just saying hi! Horses are gregarious, they are social animals. It makes them nervous being in a ring alone, and I would be nervous with more horses in the ring. I began to learn that being around other horses in a ring would help her relax which in turn allowed me to relax. I began to learn that if her ears are flopping, she is relaxed. If they are forward completely, she is listening and wanting to work for me. I began to learn what it meant for her to be "looky"- when to expect that she wouldn't be fully focused on working with potential of spooking. I had yet to experience a Dakota spook, and my only experience with falls and spooks was definitely not positive.


I had finally decided I was going to participate in a schooling show in the adult walk trot class for both equitation and pleasure. This was both exciting and nerve-wrecking. With my history in musical theatre, my training always came from the mindset that you never go on stage opening night without multiple run-throughs. Because of weather, scheduling, my fixed mindset, and Dakota's leg soreness, our time to "practice" before the show became very limited. I wasn't using my days off from my lessons to get saddle time- not because I didn't want to practice, but because I was still too frightened to be out in the ring alone with her. In fact, even walking her out to the ring while on her was loaded with anxiety on my behalf. I became obsessed with watching her ears, her eyes, the trees, the sounds around us. This should have been a huge indicator to me that I simply wasn't ready for this show. But I am not a quitter- never have been, especially with a challenge like this. But I wasn't going into it with the right mindset. I kept thinking, we need practice, practice, practice. I was stressing about getting every single thing perfect. I had no idea what a show was even like- in fact, I had no idea what the difference was between the two "classes". I also had no idea what went into prepping for a show- cleaning all your tack, baths, clippings, trimming the mane, etc. There were so many details and so little time. This only increased my anxiety. I was not any closer to overcoming my fear, nor was I any closer to trusting her.

The week of the show I was in a complete state of frustration. For a week and a half we had been trying different saddles on her. The first wasn't a right fit for her as it pinched her in weird places- yet it was a good fit for me. The next saddle was great for both of us, however a saddle would not fix the bigger problems we were facing.

I had never ridden her in the show ring- in fact, I was always to afraid to go to a bigger ring, especially one with jumps in it and more open space. The first step to even thinking about participating in the show was riding her in the show ring. I was loaded with anxiety. The first ride I was anxious about the ring, the saddle, the other riders who didn't know riding etiquette and expected me to have eyes in the back of my head.I knew that anxiety inside of me would transfer to her. In fact, she knew every feeling I always had and would think, "If she is nervous, should I be?" But I thought it was all in my body- never once did I stop to think it had anything to do with my OWN thinking. The next lesson was even worse. She tried to canter and rear. I was afraid to give her any cues to trot because it felt like race horses waiting for the bell at the gates. My trainer had told me that the show was not set in stone- I could show up the day of and decide not to participate. But that would be quitting in my mind. I was being selfish. I wasn't letting her prove to me that I could trust her. Would I participate, regardless of others' opinions?

While I will continue this story in my next post with the outcome of the show, I have some questions for my readers. Have any of you ever found that your own mind got in the way of you achieving something or making the right decision for not only your own safety but for the safety of others, whether it be your horse or even someone close to you?

Overcoming anxiety to build trust

I continued my attempts to bond with Dakota. I stood in her stall for 30 minutes, probably 4-5 more times and she started to nudge me a little bit. I wanted this bond to happen immediately- I wasn't giving it time. I wasn't respecting her desire to come to ME, which is the entire point of this challenging activity. However, I didn't expect this activity to deepen MY trust in HER, but it did. It HAD to, because I had to trust her enough that she wouldn't try to hurt me while I stood in her space with the stall locked. I had to trust her because I wanted to become a better rider, and I couldn't do that if I was filled with fear.

After my fall, I anticipated to get back on the saddle with no fear, knowing Dakota would never do what Cinnamon did (which she wouldn't unless she was absolutely terrified of something). I could sense that their wasn't one malicious bone in her body. But how could I know that for sure? After all, she is STILL a horse. Her natural instinct is to flee- not hang around and fight the battle.

I step onto the mounting block and sit in the saddle. My heart was racing and about to beat out of my chest- a reaction I did not expect. I had told myself on the drive out to the barn, "It's Dakota, not Cinnamon. You will be fine- besides, you can't have 2 falls in one week!" I had talked myself INTO anxiety mode even though I believed it to be otherwise. I had no idea that this anxiety, this fear, would push me farther away from being able to develop a bond with Dakota. I wanted to trust her, but human nature and my limited riding experience forced me to feel otherwise. But I didn't give up. I could sense there was something special to her, something inside of her just waiting to have someone love her and trust her. Which is exactly what happened- and then she began trusting me.

It wasn't an overnight event. It took months, and it took a very special event that became a turning point in my riding- the week before my first schooling show.

Love is a treat...

I began researching methods on ways to bond with your horse. I wanted Dakota to know that I was her mama, not just another "lesson rider" or some other voice and face she sees each and every day at the barn. I landed into the hands of the Perelli method. The method begins with standing in the stall of your horse for 30 minutes. During this 30 minutes, you aren't supposed to look at them or acknowledge them. You are supposed to act like nothing is different. When they finally approach you (whether via nudging or even standing by you and acknowledging your presence) then, and ONLY then, can you give them some acknowledgement. It's supposed to be like, oh hey, I didn't know you were here! I figured, this should be NO problem. Dakota is social and angelic.

Here I stood, in this stall for 30 minutes, and she ate her hay and drank water the entire time. She didn't approach me. In fact, she stopped drinking water for a second wondering why I was even in there. Was I there to steal her water? Her food? WHY was I in there? I anticipated her to be nudging me non-stop. Instead, I was ignored.

The next step- Wal-Mart. Hey, if I was going to get this horse to love me...what was going to do that more than Shredded Wheat and some carrots? Little did I know that this was going to make me a pez dispenser. Her love for me was nothing separate than her love for everyone else- treats. I didn't realize that she received them all day long- between lessons and just horse lovers out at the barn.

Attempt #1: Fail.
Attempt #2 with food: Semi-success, but not long term.

Little did I know that the future saddle time I would put in would be the first step towards love.

Trotting to a slower beat

Dakota and I had just began our growth process together, fast trot and all. I planned on another lesson with her (after riding her about 3 times)- never ready to turn down a challenge. I showed up at the barn the next week and found out I wouldn't be riding Dakota that day. Her owner at the time used her quite frequently, specifically for jumping, as she was advancing and was supposed to ride her the day later in the schooling show at the barn. The day before the show, the young owner showed up to find Dakota lame.

A lame horse is never a good sign- but especially not for this young rider with immense ability to grow into a great rider and the intense desire to do so. After a vet visit, Dakota was diagnosed with pre-navicular syndrome. It would take me years to explain in this blog what all this means, but if you are interested, here is a great link: http://www.ed.ac.uk/polopoly_fs/1.18062!/fileManager/dvepfactsheet-navicularsyndrome.pdf. Basically, with horse shoes, some bute (pain reliever like aspirin) and less work, advancement of the disease could be prevented. Her owner at the time knew that she wouldn't be able to grow as a rider if she kept Dakota. After all, Dakota could no longer jump, canter, and really needed to be only walking and trotting. They decided to release themselves of their ownership of Dakota. However, this was just the beginning of Dakota and I's future together.

In the midst of the chaos, I had shown up for my lesson and would have to ride a different horse because of Dakota's lameness. My trainer did not want to put me back onto a slow and stubborn horse as I had already began to feel the rhythm of a "real horse trot". That day, I rode Cinnamon....a horse I didn't know, didn't trust. Before we even made it to the ring, this horse was out to get me (I know, an animal out to get a human?) But as I have learned, horses sense fear and anxiety. I have always been an anxious person- now stick me on a thousand pound animal that is smart enough to sense an unexperienced rider and you have a bad combination. Cinnamon kept trying to pull me right and left. My trainer decided she would help walk us out with the lunge line as Cinnamon seemed "antsy". Before we get to the ring, Cinnamon rears and spooks, determined to get me off of her with every muscle inside of her- leaving me with my left foot caught in the stirrup and my entire body dangling on the right side of her body. I knew I had no choice but to somehow get myself off of this horse- it was like a scene out of the Hunger Games. Fight or Flight. I pulled my left foot out of the stirrup with all my might, and before I knew it Cinnamon was pulled on top of my body. As she stumbled to stand after rolling over me entirely, she stepped directly onto my pelvic bone. Fall #1 had happened- and it was a nasty one. After your first fall, every rider is encouraged to get back on the saddle to quell any future fears of riding. I, however, physically could not do so. I wanted to vomit, almost passed out, and had immense pain radiating from my pelvis. That day, I landed myself in the E.R. with no fractures and no internal bleeding. However, my anxiety levels were at a new high.

The next time I showed up at the barn, "birds were chirping" about Dakota being up for lease or ownership. She was the only horse I trusted at the time- an angel that needed someone to rehab her and take the recovery process slowly. I immediately contacted the barn owner inquiring about what was involved in owning or leasing her- not only financially but with concerns of board and future vet bills. The boyfriend, again being the amazing man he is, helped me work out the finances of it all. It took hours of playing around with the budget but before I knew it, I had become the owner of Dakota. I had no idea what went into owning a horse- but I knew I was up for the challenge. I also had little idea of how this ownership would lead me into personal challenges of overcoming anxiety and learning to love an animal that had the potential to kill you. I was going to have to learn to trust this horse- after all, I had made the decision to OWN her. I would have to learn how to live on a budget. Prior to owning Dakota, a bill of $25 at Target felt like nothing. Now- nothing felt worthy of being bought for $25. All I could think was, "I own a horse now....I have to be responsible".

I began researching ways to bond with your horse, while in the mean time finding that shredded wheat seemed to do the trick. I wanted her to KNOW me. I wanted to trust her, but I knew I had to gain her trust first. But how?

A Quarter Horse with a heart worth more money than anyone could imagine...

I am not wealthy, nor did I grow up living an extravagant lifestyle. Most people, when they think anything equestrian, assume you have money. I am a full-time preschool teacher, I teach private music lessons in my "free" time, and I sing at church to fund my riding.

My mother was an equestrian. It was her passion. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get me into riding. My interests were based in music, dance, and theatre. By no means did I ever anticipate that would help me later on in my life in so many aspects, but that is another story for another time. Every chance I had to ride a horse, I was terrified. As a child, I always had the ability to steer away from anything that could potentially hurt me, destroy me, always protective of my body. What is more likely to do that than a thousand pound animal?

You are probably wondering: Ok, so why did you start riding? Well, the story of my riding and meeting Dakota were nothing less than divine. After losing my father to cancer 4 years ago, I began to compile a bucket list. Some may find this silly as I am only 24 years old, but my father was 56 and hadn't done things in his life that he always desired to do. Sure, my bucket list could include things like climb Mount Everest, jump from an airplane. But why tackle huge things when you aren't even able to overcome something, like your fear of one of God's most beautiful creatures? I began tackling my bucket list by starting simple: overcoming my fear of riding a horse. The horse as an animal had always intrigued me- their beauty, their mystery, how they can be afraid of a small kitten and not even know their own size! But to ride them- that was completely different.

A groupon came through my inbox for local horseback riding, and I was soon to be making a trip up to visit my godfather and wife in MA (both fearless people). His wife plays polo and rides horses and he wanted me to be able to go riding with her. I agreed, with slight hesitation and concern. After all, I hadn't been on a horse since I was 7 or 8 years old, and I knew they were powerful.  I bought the groupon...hey, if anything was going to happen it might as well not be on my vacation. Little did I know that this groupon purchase would lead me to meeting Dakota.

After a week in MA and falling in love with spending time at the barn and horses, soon began a journey of everything equestrian. For my birthday that week, I asked my boyfriend for a gift certificate of lessons to continue at the barn I had purchased the groupon for. Being the amazing man he is, he followed through with that request. But I had yet to ride Dakota. It wasn't until my 4th lesson or so, and man was I in for a shock. I had been on stubborn, old and slow horses. Not Dakota. Her trot was not stubborn nor was it slow. For the first time in 10 years, I was finding something as a challenge. I realized- this is not as easy as it looks. You hop on and walk/trot. Great....now let's really learn how each horse is different and trots differently. I also didn't know at this point what it meant to trust a horse. Sometimes I still struggle with this. This was just the beginning of my experience with Dakota....one that would continue to grow each and every day. Every post I write will explain the ups, the downs, the path that lead me to Dakota, and how it has intertwined with my everyday life and mindset.