Bitter Sweet

Today was, most certainly, bitter sweet. The end of one chapter, the beginning of another. I could come up with more metaphors, but I won't. So, on to the good stuff!

Today was my last day working with Chance. I've been working with him (and J and N) weekly or bi-weekly since February. Seven months. I can't even believe it's been 7 months. I originally looked into equine therapy at the urging of my therapist, M. He knew of my love for horses and the dreams and thoughts I had been having of them at the time.

So I looked online and found the Pikes Peak Therapeutic Riding Center.

I believe I emailed first. I was set to call and speak with N to set up a meeting and then I was hospitalized. I met with her and J shortly after I was released and was introduced to the horses. I was drawn to Chance, or him to me (or both), and he became my boy.

I groomed, I learned how to lead, to have him follow me without the lead rope on, to take him over/through little obstacles, to drive, and to do basic ground work. I was learning horsemanship (I've ridden, but working with a horse is much different). But more than this, I was learning mindfulness. To be in the moment and experience it - truly experience it without worrying about anything else.

J and N encouraged me, listened to me, guided me. They pointed out how my emotions were almost mimicked through Chance at times. How he reacted differently based on my state of mind. If I was distracted and not in the moment, he wouldn't follow. How when I relaxed, or became more focused and present, he was more in tune with me, following me, chewing and licking. J and N drew similarities between different interactions/activities with Chance and what I was experiencing or working through. The three of them, in spite of my stubbornness, opened my eyes and my heart.

Through them, I found myself. I found myself. That's a powerful statement. The past year and 10 months has been the most difficult time of my life - I lost myself, I almost killed myself. And a horse and two amazing people helped me find myself again.

Which brings me to why today was so bitter sweet. I feel I'm at the point to move forward, to continue to grow. And even though this terrifies me (greatly), it's something I need to do. But this means not working with Chance one on one. Not having these bi-weekly meetings that I look forward to, not experiencing the connection and peace and happiness I get from being with him.

I'm staying on at PPTRC as a volunteer, working with disabled children and adults and the horses, and I'm very excited about that! It will be rewarding and fun and I like knowing that I can help, in some small way, someones else's recovery. And I'll still see Chance, and maybe even "play" with him every once in awhile. But it's not the same as working with him one on one, him and me, and there is a sense of loss with that.

And grief.

I am grieving this loss, and it's hard. As I knew it would be. My goodbye with him today was interesting and moving and wonderful and terrible. After I said my goodbyes, took off his halter and started to walk away, he followed and came close, as if he hadn't finished yet. And I wept, softly and silently.

I couldn't convey my deep appreciation to J and N - I would have lost it. Completely. So instead, I hugged them and kept my tears for the parking lot. And boy did I cry. I had to pull over the sobs were so uncontrolled. It was guttural, deep and ugly. It's how I cried when I lost my dad. It was a release of that grief and loss and was necessary. I've teared up several times since - I get a whiff of that wonderful "horse smell" on my clothes which always makes me feel calm and content and then I remember . . . and I tear up.

But the grief will pass, and I'll still be with horses and I'll still see Chance. It'll be different, but it will be good. Moving forward, finding me. And I know, for a fact, that these disabled kids and adults I'll be working with will have much to teach me as well.

Thank you, Chance. And thank you J and N. Thank you all for helping me find me again.