For as long as I’ve been in the “horse world” (roughly 13 years) there has always been this stigma around equestrians that we’re these people who are strong badasses that are tough and brave, who have no time for silly negative feelings, and, while that’s all true, sometimes we’re other things. Sometimes we’re nervous or frustrated. Sometimes we’re anxious and down right scared. While being in the horse world I’ve noticed no one really discusses these other feelings, save for a couple posts here or there. We talk about the positives, as we should, but I feel we also have a duty to talk about the negatives. Riding is hard. Being a horse person is hard. We give our trust and sometimes our lives to these huge animals that have a mind of their own. We give our hearts to something that could seriously injure or kill us with just one spook or fall.
I try hard to be transparent about how I’m feeling regarding my horse, my mental health, and my riding journey, and boy is it a journey, because I feel it’s important that other equestrians know it’s okay to feel things like nervousness or being scared to simply tack up. I also feel it’s important that equestrians who struggle with their mental health like I do don’t feel so alone. That they know it’s okay if it takes you a long time to put your foot in the stirrup and that sometimes just getting on is a win. I’ll be honest, when I first started riding seriously again last year, I took a good 40 minutes of my 60 minutes lesson time just breathing and forcing myself to get on. I’ve had a few bad falls that make me nervous but most of the time it’s my head that’s holding me back. The fear of falling, the fear of failing and having a bad ride, the fear of not being as good as I know I can be, the fear of not being the rider my horse deserves.
When I first started working at my aunt’s barn back in 2008, I was going through some incredibly difficult life events that were affecting my head and my whole self in general, I’d later be told I was living with PTSD and depression because of these events. Working at the barn gave me a purpose, it gave me a sense of routine and responsibility that I didn’t know I was craving, and it gave me something to be proud in, I’ll always be grateful to her for giving me that. I believe I’m my best self when I’m at the barn. There I feel at home and safe even without being in the saddle. There’s comfort to be found in knowing all the horses are safe in their stalls while they happily munch on their dinner because you put them there. That you are part of the reason the barn is running smoothly. That they trust you enough to lead them in, they knicker their thank you’s when you dump feed, and sometimes you get a little nuzzle that reminds you you’ve done good. I’ve always loved being a horse person from the ground because of this, the hard work and the subtle rewards, but now that I’m focusing more seriously on riding, I’m able to feel it there too. Nothing makes my head quieter when I’m riding than knowing I’ve done well in my lesson or had a nice, relaxing evening ride that was also productive.
Living with anxiety, depression, ADHD, PTSD, or any other mental illness is tough and exhausting but adding the pressures that can sometimes come with being an equestrian makes it that much harder. Between my full-time job and full course load as well as my horse’s chronic cellulitis, the injuries, and other setbacks my anxiety seems to be in overdrive lately. One of the things my anxiety does is it makes me compare myself to everyone else and that can be detrimental especially if you start comparing yourself to the little girl who is running training level courses or the one who is able to half pass without even struggling. I also live with ADHD which makes me sometimes hyper-focus on things. This comparing and hyper-focusing makes me want to work harder and rush myself, and sometimes my horse, so that I can get to the point where I’m able to show or be at the levels of those I’m comparing myself to but that’s not okay. I have been incredibly lucky to have such a patient and gentle mare such as my Annie and sometimes I let my head get the best of me, embarrassingly. Sometimes I’ll be trotting a nice relaxed circle and I’ll hear my trainer tell me to stop and “wipe the chalkboard” because he can tell I’m starting to overthink everything I’m doing. Sometimes my anxiety is so bad when I’m in the saddle I’ll have to just walk the arena on a loose rein and feel my horse moving. These lessons happen. These rides happen and it’s taken me a long time to be at peace with that.
I’ve taken a lot of steps to help my anxiety through therapy, acupuncture, sometimes homeopathic remedies, and the medication that helps my ADHD, but what helps me most is just being there with my horse. Not necessarily riding but breathing and being with her. She grounds me and helps me realize it doesn’t matter how far that girl is or how lovely the other tests are. She helps me remember that we are where we are and that’s just fine.
Equestrians are tough, brave, and strong badasses because we tack up despite our anxieties. We trust our equine partners and we ride on despite what our mental health tells us.
- Sara
