Rainy Days Mirrored in Me

It pored today. My ride and day had been canceled from the moment I stirred from my sleep to hear the drip drop of rain falling from my windowsill. The sound of the wind crashing its way through the trees and rattling my windows only made me pull the covers up tighter and wish for sleep. The bed was so warm and comforting I stayed there for hours, drifting in and out of that half sleep of la la land. Mornings are hard enough for me to get out of bed for work or any thing else. Yet it was 10:30 (when I had woke up at 8:00) and I still couldn't pull myself up out of bed. I thought to my day a head, look for my missing wallet that I had already turned my house and car upside down looking for...Then, if I failed, go to my bank to try and cancel my card and order a new one....then try and somehow get money out of my account with no ID...then stop by the DMV to start the horrible process of getting a new ID. The whole task seemed so daunting that I refused to get out of bed.

 It was then I started to consider if there was something wrong with me. The sadness and frustration with a mix of lack of motivation for much of anything. Jake still needed to get out, it wasn't raining hard enough to really stop me. (It very rarely rains hard enough to stop me from going out to the stables) Even that couldn't pull me out of bed. I started considering my rather mood over the past year and something my father had said to me. We don't see each other much anymore, I do not have the time or the job flexibility to travel all the way up to visit him. So we keep in contact over the phone every couple of weeks. At the end of our conversation last night my father had asked, "Honey are you okay? You haven't been yourself the past couple of times I've talked to you...is everything alright? You seem so down." He went on to explain that I could tell him anything and I needed someone to talk to. He asked if I was getting out with my friends enough, if I was having fun...I didn't have the heart to tell him the truth so instead I told him I was just stressed and tired.

Truth is, I'm starting to wonder if I'm depressed. I had always thought that people who were truly depressed just had a form of PTSD, or were having mental issues like bipolar disorder. I never looked into it, never sought to understand. I just saw commercials and some people who said they were struggling with it. The other alternative was that people like to think they are depressed and use it as an excuse to be unmotivated in their lives. Then the medications would hopefully have a placebo effect. The more research I do, the more I find out how wrong I was. The more I find out how I fit in the categories.

My life has not been close to bad, I have never been beat or abused. I have two parents and three siblings that love me. I have a group of friends that have been with me through thick and thin that I can always rely on. I have a good job, am lucky enough to own a horse and get the privilege to go to a good university. Now why am I so down on life? I don't know. I know how lucky I am, how privileged, and how good of a life I live. Still I can't seem to pull myself up out of bed in the mornings.

My life has not been all sunshine and roses either. My parents divorced when I was one, my mom remarried when I was three, my dad when I was nine. Then my mom divorced again when I was 14, remarried when I was 18. I get along decently with my mom's third husband (J), didn't get along with her second (S) and my step mother (K) and I avoid each other when possible.  I have been in a way 'homeless' and on the edge of loosing everything. I have helped raised and cared for my three step siblings (Two Sisters : 5 and 4 Years younger than me, one brother 10 years younger than me).

Ever since my mothers second divorce from 'S' I have been the emotional caretaker. My family and I managed to live in a few family friends houses. All 5 of us would squeeze into one bedroom to live in. We did that for three months before my mother found a house for us to rent. The divorce from my father had been smooth, with them agreeing that separate would be better. The divorce between S and my mom was a brutal fight for everything. I knew of everything that went on, I saw the tears my mom shed wondering how we were going to buy clothes for school that year when S kept dragging my mom to court for every little thing, racking up the lawyer fees.

From there on I learned to be strong, if I was upset my mom would become more distraught that I knew how bad things were. So I learned to hide my own fears, and act as the strong support. I held my mom as she cried more times than I can ever count. My siblings were always easily upset when my mom is, so I had to be strong for them too. So they could see that someone had faith that we would pull through. I have stayed this person for years and years. I was my mother's personal consult, she came to me with her problems and I would listen.

Eventually I went away to college, where I became so stress out I developed IBS, I started failing classes, I couldn't concentrate, I studied and was still struggling. The more I stressed the worse my condition got...I started missing classes, missing finals because I wouldn't be able to get to school. So I learned to to turn it off, just like before. I learned to not care, soon as I stopped caring about finals and grades my IBS disappeared. Though my grades continued to stay down. So my mother pulled me back home. I was brought back into my moms shaky world with J, who had bad marriages before and was in the rut with his own kids and old wives of shouting and verbally abusing each other equally....then forgetting it the next day. My family has never worked like that, we never treat each other poorly, we very rarely yell, and we never insult or cuss at each other. We take words as they're said, and don't forget easily. It does not get washed away with a casual "I'm sorry" the next morning. J keeps trying to fight with us, my mom intervenes and so he turns on her.

Today makes the third time that my mom has given the "We might have to leave" speech to me in the past 3 years. The other two times, the kids were at S's house and I was left to pick up the pieces of my mother's broken heart. This time the kids were here, got to hear the yelling and my mom's sobs. Only this time its worse, we can't go anywhere. My mom just had a hysterectomy to remove cancerous cells from her body. She's weak and in a lot of pain. What was this fight over? The water ran cold in J's shower, he was about to go on a search to find out who was responsible for it. Our water heater sucks, everyone has to deal with cold water spots, but god forbid if you take a shower when J wants to, or turn on the washer machine, or the dishwasher....or flush a toilet. My mom managed to drag herself out of bed to stop him and to ask him to calm down and forget about it.

It ended in a huge fight, with my mom crying (she started because she was mad, the continued because she was in so much pain) I wanted to intervene to get him to leave her alone. Yet I couldn't pull myself out the door and down the stairs to confront him. I'm so afraid of making it worse for her in the end. I don't want to make it so bad that we have to leave with the condition my mom is in. I can't stand to see her so hurt, so tonight I cried with her. J left so I had to help her upstairs, give her the medication and tuck her into bed.

I can't detach myself from this...I am having trouble staying strong. Thats who I am for my family if anything, I stay strong for them. I hate myself for many reasons, I'm emotionally weak. I'm socially weak. I can't stand up to anyone, I can't ever say no, I can't put myself first. I work 37 hours a week, go to school roughly 6 hours a week, drive my siblings to school in the morning, somehow fit in taking care of Jake, then rarely get to see my friends. Next semester I will be going to school full time and commuting and hour to get there three days a week. I don't know how I'm going to organize everything.

Sorry dad, I won't be making new friends. No, I still do not have a boyfriend, or anyone asking me out on dates, no I don't go out to parties, no I don't do anything that is fun. I cry half the time when I ride, from all my frustrations, and I don't feel like I belong anywhere. I wish I had a sense of identity instead of molding to what everyone needs me to be. Who am I? I don't know, just a spineless blob of play-doh that every gets to mold as they wish.

I am so blessed, with food on the table, a roof over head and love from friends and family. I still can't get out of bed in the mornings...I'm still so tired all the time...I feel like I don't even want to see my friends anymore...Jake is the only thing that gets me out of bed by choice...not even that worked today.

I'm thirsty anyways, so bring on the rain.

3 Barrels 2 Hearts....and my dream.

I grew up with horses in an old western town. Well at least old as in the mindset of the people. The nearest walmart is 35 minutes away...the nearest mall is over an hour. Everyone knows each other, and its all a country life style. You have only a few suburb type communities that had gone up over the last two decades. The public park has a lions club, a playground, and a rodeo arena. The rodeo arena gets the most activity. Out there I always saw just as many cows, horses and deer than I saw of people.

So when I wanted to show, there was only one thing that went on that all the girls that rode did. The one thing that was held once a month, and I looked forward to every summer for years.

Barrel Racing.

Middletown Days 2005

Taking my need for speed...with horses and putting it into an event. It was my kind of gig. Plus it was what I had been taking lessons for for many years before I got Jake. It was just natural that I wanted to go into it. At my dad's property I had one old oil drum that I found and began practicing turning around it. I also begged my dad to hook up the trailer and drag me to my trainers for lessons. We weren't good, Jake was hard to work with and I just wanted to go go go. It didn't help that I was the only one that rodeo Jake, and I could only ride Jake when I visited my father, which was a friday through sunday every three weeks. After my parents moved to southern california, I became more than a frequent flyer. Every three weeks I was on an airplane up to northern california, then back down three days later. Within the 8 years that I did this I probably flew well over 500 flights. This traveling was part of who I was. I know my way around an airport, know the protocals, and could even recite the "In the case of an emergency landing there are six exits......" Not many people know that the water that you order comes in an aluminum can. ;) Anyhow, this meant that Jake's training was very very slow and would take months. I never know how he learned anything with three days training and somehow rememeber some of it a month later.

Speed Barrels 2005

It took me a while to convince my father to let me compete in the yearly rodeo, Middletown Days Rodeo and Gymkhana. It was some glorious moment when my father agreed to let me compete in 2005. I was 14 and ready to go. I wish I remembered more of my first few shows. I don't, all I remember was going fast and not doing much turning. He was quick, but we didn't have the foundations down. I didn't care too much I got my adrenaline fix and though that over time we would get it down. I couldn't get through a pole course, Jake overshot everything and I would end up having to trot the course.

I came home with a few ribbons and was so proud of myself and Jake. I had gotten compliments from people around me on my first real show. I didn't care that we weren't doing it perfect or right, I was just happy to be doing it.

Cloverleaf Barrels 2005

The mistake that a fellow participant made was to bring to light that once a month there was a gymkhana at the rodeo grounds for anyone who wanted to come. It was there it started and I turned to my dad with every hope that I could compete every time I visit my father. Truthfully my dream was heading down the dark path of little training, a need for speed and a hot horse. The horse that was still prancing from the high of a gallop out of the arena, the head tossing and the fight for turns were all precursors of what was to come.

Hide the Booze and Run! Its Officer Jake!

My father riding Oliver (Dun/Another Officers horse) on the Left

My father was not only my hero, but one for the city he worked in as well. He became an officer before I was born, and I have several pictures of me riding my fathers work bike or with him in uniform. So after I started getting into horses he started entertaining the idea of becoming part of the city's mounted police unit.   My dad had gotten Sebastian first, as he fit the bill of what the unit was looking for physically, a dark colored, tall, gelding. Sebastian failed the mental part horribly, it was during a training (well they hadn't even gotten into the arena with the items for desensitizing) when he reared up and flipped over on top of my dad. So with Sebastian a no, Jake became the next potential police horse.

He did everything that Sebastian wouldn't, he didn't spook, he would walk through/by anything and never said no. My dad said he was always surprised at the stuff that wouldn't send Jake running for the hills. I have to say they do some intense stuff with those horses. One example is they have to light a fire cracker from horseback, drop it into a barrel and have the horse stand by as the fire cracker went off. Jake would jump but would still stand in place on a loose rein. 

Another exercise was for crowd control. This was always my favorite story. The local swat team would come out, lock arms and get told to do everything they could to not let the horses pass through their line. My dad had laughed while explaining the smug look on their faces, that they had no grasp of the concept that a 1200lb animal was about to come push them out of the way like they were no more then blades of grass. Some horses balked at the line, not wanting to push through the shouting and waving arms of the swat team. My dad he pointed Jake towards the line and gave him his head and Jake plowed through the line like it was nothing. The swat team was knocked off their feet, on guy had the guts to try and grab the reins, and my dad told Jake to turn into the guy and Jake knocked the guy flat on his back. 

Jake did anything and everything. Kids could hang off his ears, he would push through anything, and wouldn't spook. Yet he still failed, why? Even if Jake can hold still for days without fidgeting his hot nature while moving was dangerous. If agitated he would sidestep into a crowd of innocent people and knock them over like the swat team. He could not be trusted to calmly walk forward because he just wanted to run. 

Dad riding Oliver again, Dun, second from left

Several trails were a hassle as Jake carelessly would sidestep off a ledge, prance down sand dune (which caused a fall onto his side) and trip over pebbles. Most horses if you give them a hard enough terrain will focus on their feet and slow down. Not Jake, he keeps doing what ever he wants to do and goes in the direction where he wants to go with no concern towards his own health. How would that horse manage to handle curbs, stairs and concrete? Not well. So Jake flunked out of officers training. It was a short lived dream, but by that time I had enough of a grip on him that I made sure my father would never sell him. In 2006 we got Jessie, a calm foundation quarter horse that managed to work out perfectly for the mounted unit and my father was able to be a part of the unit. 

I Wanted to be Free

Novels played a big part in my dreams. The books of my childhood were that of adventures with horses (surprise, surprise). Some of my favorites was Pony Pals, The Black Stallion Series, and others I can't remember the name of. I always imagined being able to swing up on my nobel steed with no tack and gallop into the sunset. This notion was one that never really left me and got me into some trouble and had my poor father worriedly watching my progress. I always wanted to go faster, more reckless...I wanted to tame the wild beast and be one.

The first step in this process was to get rid of the saddle. Bareback was first on my list. So to properly concern my father, not only did I want to ride farther and farther away from his view on our property, I wanted to take the saddle off as well. So I put Jake in a bridle, climbed onto the fence and hopped on. I started slow. It was such a relief that Jake was round compared to the old, sway-backed ponies I had rode with my instructor. Jake was nice and round...and easy to slide off of. So I took it slow, I would spend laps doing circles around the pasture. I soon learned how to balance without touching Jake with my lower legs, as any contact meant for him to speed up. He was sensitive enough that any slight movement from me would send him off. I learned to be calm with my seat and my legs, to control them by keeping them off his sides while staying balanced.

Though I did progress slow, I never stopped progressing. Soon I started trotting bareback (though I'm 70% sure I skipped to cantering first, Jake was bouncy as heck) then moved up faster and more technical. Soon I found myself lazy and not even wanting to pull out the saddle, so riding bareback became my style. I would trail ride, gallop, and train bareback. I developed a good seat, anything I could do with a saddle I could do without. It came from balance, as I couldn't really grip with my legs.

I recently went to a trainer to work on my own equitation for english and the trainer surprised me by saying that she thought I had a very faulty sense of balance and that if the horse did anything by surprise I would fall off, all because I didn't use my calves when I rode. She said the horse would crow hop and I would be a goner. I didn't say anything but laughed in my head. I have been through some crazy stuff bareback and have never fallen off. I guess thats one thing I have to give credit to Jake, he gave me the confidence to ride bareback and in that I was able to establish a balance not depending on how hard I can grip with my legs. Not that it does any good for my eq, I have many years of removing the habit so I can stop gripping with my knees.

Anyhow, after some time I got tired of hopping on a fence to get on Jake bareback. He learned quick that if he sidestepped away from it I couldn't get on. Doesn't matter what I did he would sidestep two steps with his hindquarters. No amount of gentle reprimands, tough love, and working got him to stop...He would just as calmly move over anyways. Even if I stood with a lunge whip on his opposite side and smacked him till no end to move over. He would look at me in the eye and say "Nope". So I had a change of plans. I had to learn to mount from the ground, like the cowboys just run...and swing up!

So I grabbed a fistful of mane would take a few running steps and LEAP...and then crash into the side of Jake. I spent hours trying hard as I could...days went by and I kept getting closer and closer. Jake was amazing, every day he would stand there as I pretty much ran into his side repeatedly. Though even he couldn't cope with my nonsense forever. I had to of been my 400th try on the third day when I managed to swing one leg over, and was trying to pull myself up when Jake swung his head around and bit me right on my butt. It wasn't hard, didn't even leave a sore spot. But I was so surprised I fell right into the dirt at his feet. He was staring down at me sheepishly, I could just imagine him thinking, "I can't take it anymore sorry." That was the only time Jake ever thought/attempted to bite me. He hasn't made any move since then to even indicate that he was thinking about it. I guess he had enough. (I know I would have too!) Shortly after that I mastered the swing up. It comes in very handy and is a nice way to impress other people. ;-)

I always smile when I think back to all the times I would ride around with no saddle, I went through many pairs of jeans because the dirt would lighten the color of my jeans and wear them down faster. My mother started giving me 'no bareback' pants when we would go shopping for school. I never seemed to mind the dirt butt back then either, walking around stained all down my legs. Yet that is how I grew up running wild and crazy with my wild and crazy horse. 

Happy Birthday?

Its is 11:00 right now, as I started writing this. In one hours I will be legally 21 years old. Co-workers laughed and gave me a high five hoping I have a wild crazy night tomorrow. Most say I should be excited for it, and look forward to the rest of my life. Honestly I don't feel much about it at all. I smiled and laughed with them, saying that I wasn't doing much on my birthday but had an awesome road trip planned for the weekend.  One of my co-workers brought down the thoughts that I knew were looming over my head. "You are not turning 21...What's your birthday?" She looked at me, obviously doubting my age. Which has been something people have been doing for a while now. I rarely wear make-up, if I do its more natural, I don't carry a purse, and I am stuck as braceface. Most people think I am 3 years younger than I am, and most of that is merely because of the lack of make-up and the braces. But it gets under my skin.

For most of my life I was always told I looked 2-3 years older than I was. I grew taller and matured faster than most girls and I was told I matured mentally faster as well. Yet soon as everyone started wearing make-up and dressing within style I was left behind and fell into the 'looking younger' category. I'd rather spend my days at the stables then shopping, or fooling around with friends. So I never had time to shop for myself or spend hours in front of the mirror learning to put on makeup. I had no desire to do any of it. So I didn't. I love the outdoors and working hard, I get sweaty and dirty and see no point in prettying myself up for my horses or friends who accepted me for who I was. During that time I also didn't give a crap what others thought about me and had no interest in attracting any attentions from boys.

So the habits started as the socially awkward me that didn't fit into much of any group of my peers. I still have trouble with my peers now, not really knowing how to interact. I feel like a horse that was raised by humans and then thrown out into a herd of horses. I honestly don't know how to act without my close friends. I never partied in high school, never have touched any drugs, had my first drink in college, and still have never been drunk. Do I want it? I don't know. Half of me wants more experience, I don't want to be foolish or stupid, but I'm tired of being the good girl that no one notices. I want to loosen up, be me, and have fun. I want to go to parties and have more friends and socialize. I want it so bad...I feel like I have missed out on a culture experience that I can't jump on the bandwagon now. I don't belong with religious straight side, I also don't belong with the alcoholics. I want a healthier party life, if that is remotely possible.

Another thing I lament about is my rather lack of experience with guys. Now I know I am starting to sound pathetic, but that is my point. I feel stuck in a rut of a mediocre life that I put myself into time and time again. I have never had a boyfriend, or even been on a date. Let alone never been asked out on a date by a suitable person. (Two slightly mentally handicapped boys and one guy who was two years younger than me physically and a lot more mentally). I don't believe that I am ugly, I also don't believe I am hot by any means. I am healthy weight and active. Yet still I give off bad vibes and send the men away from me, some guy friends have said I'm intimidating. I'm stronger than most girls and some guys, I can drive better than most people I know, I love the outdoors and physical sports, I'm tough and I'm not very girly. I want to go off-roading, camping, mountain biking, and paint balling. I just can't flirt or play the game. I get approach well enough a clubs to know that I'm not physically repulsive but any guy that knows me more on a normal person it goes no where. I'm in no rush to get into anything but a girl has got to worry when nothing seems to be going for her when she tries.

What have I done as my life to be worthy of living here? What I have I done to make an impact in the lives of others or with something that I can look back on when I'm older and laugh and say "Those were good times? I can't think of anything other than my horse. I want to have more to me than horses, I'm tired of being the horse girl, I don't want it anymore. I don't want out of horses but I want to be a diverse person and other people to love seeing past the horse part of me. I want life to mean something, right now my life is grey and I feel so bland. I'm not happy, sad, scared, excited, in love, heart broken...nothing. Just a great wall of bleh. 21 years of bleh. I'm not writing this for a response of pity, I'm writing this for myself, I almost want to save to drafts and never published it. But I think why not? Maybe some person, someday will come across this post that can relate and think, I'm not alone. I promise there will not be a lot of the these posts, I only turn 21 once, and feel the need to blab just now and it will be over.

Happy birthday to me.

Anxiety

A reason I started writing this blog is partially because of fear. Little over a year ago Jake flipped over a jump and came out of it very lame. The long story of that will come later. He was on stall rest for over 3.5 months before I could start turning him out, then a month later I was able to do light riding. I got him back into shape and he seemed to be doing good, till he pulled up lame again...I gave him 5 weeks off before riding again. 4 weeks later he was slightly off. He still is iffy. Most people can't even see it, its just a muscle twitch and a lack of stretching out. He's tracking up great, isn't bobbing his head. He gives a sore step every now and then when he turns but otherwise I just don't know. I'm wondering if its arthritis? Or if his sidebone is acting up?

The vet is coming out on tuesday to look at him and get his teeth done. I'm hoping she can find some answers and at least pinpoint where his pain might be coming from. I want the vet to come out sooner...I hate this waiting.

I'm afraid of the news as well, as he is 20 years old and the lameness has been recurring I am worrying that this might be the end of his riding career. It might be a point that needs light riding, which is nearly impossible to do with this horse. He doesn't do light riding that is enjoyable....going in circles in an arena can only be fun for both of us for so long and he is a monster on trails. If that time has come he has a 2 acre pasture waiting for him to live the rest of his life....but I just don't want to let him go.

The only thing constant is Velocity

Horses are always trying to preserve energy. I read that in some book when I was a kid. Most things horses do are an attempt to find comfort and relaxation. Without the influence of a person (In a large pasture/wild setting) horses do not run around working themselves....they eat, maybe buck out a few good feelings and leave it at that. They do not waste all of their energy because they need that energy to run from any potential predators. This has always made perfect logical sense to me.

That being said, when taking Jake into perspective, another connection can be made that Jake does not think like a horse. Whether this is from a nervous flaw that was taught to him by incompetent riders or if he has some neurological issues will never be known. I'm not saying this in a light hearted way. A friend of mine, who studied horse phycology, found him to be quite the case. She explained that he was fearless and had no sense of self-preservation. She showed me a few examples of other horses that had the same mentality. Trainers were frustrated with his lack of common horse sense. A vet-tech told me she would have shot him because of concerns of mental health. 

Now, reading this over some people may think that I'm some crazy suicidal idiot to ride a possibly mental horse. Jake's issues do not stem from any classic symptoms, he never would randomly freak out, never had coordination issues, never acted violent or out of the ordinary. Another one of my friends call it blind dedication. He trusts humans 100% and never doubts where they may lead him. He does not ask why, or say no. He just does. This horse would walk off the edge of a cliff without hesitation, hell he would walk into a burning building if I asked him. He would, and has done things most no other horse would do the first time they were presented with something. 

Jake Jigging at Gymkhana 2008

Another part of it is that Jake is always moving fast. His walk, whether in hand, out in the pasture or in the saddle, is moving. He uses his whole body, when he is going somewhere he is going there with a purpose no lolligaging along the way. When I first got him, if you gave him a loose rein he would keep a constant velocity, always increasing his speed until you shut him down, then it would start over again, just getting faster and faster and faster. It took me a year to teach him to not break gait, at that time he developed a running walk that made TWH owners guessing his breed. He would walk as fast as his body would possibly allow. It was a crack up, and frustrating at the same time. The trot was the same, this horse trotted with the same amount of purpose as his walk. Flipping his toes out extending his stride to his physical capacities. The canter was always the most difficult, there really enough of a difference between the canter and gallop that I could teach Jake to stay at. So it was always a fight to keep him at a decent speed.

As fun as my pedal to the floor horse was it made for horrible group rides. No one could keep up. So there was no socializing for me with other riders unless they trotted while Jake walked. It later created a lot of tension after the fun of having a hot horse wore off. I tried anything and everything to be able to enjoy a casual ride with him. It was nearly impossible when I got him. This is where our problems started, as I became a more and more aggressive rider and my frustration levels rose. Trainers weren't helping, my father wasn't helping.....and no one could find any answers.

I was told once to let him run it out, "let him figure out he's got no where to go and is just wasting his energy" so I got to the public arena when no one was there and did just that I gave him loose rein and swore that I would not be the one slowing him down. He was going to figure this out. After I warmed him up (for I knew the hell ride was coming) I gave him loose rein at a walk. That walk slowly turned into a trot, which slowly turned into a canter, which quickly turned into a batt out of hell gallop. I merely made sure that he rated enough for the turns at the end of the arena and didn't run into the fence. He did lap after lap after lap. His stamina surprised me, it seemed like forever that he was at his top speed, the world flying by when his body started slowing down. His sides were lathered in sweat, I could feel him faltering, it wasn't that he was realizing he had no purpose, his ears were still forward, and his head was bobbing as he fought against his physical limitations. He was still digging into the ground, his muscles were just failing to push as hard. Then he started tripping, glitching in his stride as he no longer had the energy to keep his body going. But he still was galloping, fighting every stride to try and go faster and faster. After almost completely going down and still going, I pulled him up. I realized he wasn't going to stop until he fell. Not till his heart gave out and he couldn't move anymore.

I never did that again. It took me over an hour to cool him out safely. I probably did 20+ laps around the arena hand walking. (Because there was no way to cool him out while you were on his back). I can say that now a lot has changed, in an arena you wouldn't notice his nature as I have figure out how to work with him instead of against him. He still walks faster than most. It has nicely into a working walk that does well for control and collection. Its all a change in how I thought....but it took me 7 years to figure it out. 

The Start of the Journey

Trying to recall this time of owning Jake is a little difficult. It was rather uneventful and not anymore unique than a girl getting to know her horse. Since Sebastian was gone I would ride Jake, cause no way was I going to stop riding. I just was going to get over my distaste for riding him. Honestly it didn't take long, soon I started to enjoy his energy, his fiery personality in the saddle that contrasted his calmness on the ground. He was easily handled on the ground, I could saddle up on my own and there was no worries of him pulling back or spooking. I gained confidence in him while Sebastian had established uncertainty. Jake was predictable, I knew what he was going to do and when.

My father started to take me to the arena for lessons in town and I started Jake on barrels. I wanted to go to rodeos and Gymkhana's. I had wanted to with Sebastian but luckily my fathers common sense over rode mine and he had wormed his way out of me going to shows with him. Jake didn't buck or spook and to my father, was a much more reasonable horse to show. So I started training, working on barrels in the only way I knew how. Occasionally I would get lessons from Helen to help point me in the right direction, but the lessons grew more and more infrequent. I spent more and more of my time cruising around the property at my dads house and starting to explore the trails that were behind. I wasn't even aloud to go far. (My father was very protective, after he watched Sebastian dump me once, and another time I came into the house saying Sebastian had bucked me off and was galloping down the road.)

Jake never said no, he would go through any water and go near anything that could be considered frightening to horse. He would barely flinch if a car back fired on the road or if a tarp flew up off the pile of wood. I believe fully that this horse gave me the confidence that I have today, he gave me a consistent start to true horse owning that I will never forget.



Now none of this was because Jake was well trained. He was far from it. He had no give to the bit, he barely neck reined, he had no other walking speed other than fast, he broke into faster gaits, he pranced and had little to no work with lateral control. He was just bomb-proof that was the only thing he had going for him. That and he was an easy handle on the ground. Somewhere here I fell in love with this horse. When I had been younger and played with friends I always wanted to have fiery, barely controllable horses that pranced and just wanted to run, snorting and I wanted everyone to know I was a great ride because I wasn't afraid. Jake was the one that fit the criteria. He was fiery and intimidating to most people, he was a horse that not everyone could ride and was flashy. He was everything I wanted.

Congratulations you traded a crazy horse....for a crazy horse?

I remember being all excited when my Dad said he had got another horse while picking me up from my mother's house. Dreams of riding through trails with my dad were getting clearer and clearer. I would ride my lanky (I thought beautiful, my dream) ex-race horse while he would ride this new horse. It would be wonderful...so I thought. I was rather blind to my fathers intentions of getting rid of my first horse. I just thought It would be a second horse for me to ride and enjoy. 

Me Riding Sebastian 2003

I have always like extravagant names for horses, Sebastian was suiting enough for my first horse. It was not a common bland name, which I always avoided. I always wanted something regal and flowing, something to put justice to the majestic beast. So when I asked my father what this new horses name was it hit me with rather bad taste.

Jake.

Who the hell names a horse Jake? (No offense for anyone who names their horse Jake...Personal preference) You name your old, cumbersome coonhound Jake. Okay so not a Storm Chaser or Flying Eagle....just Jake. No show name, no nothing. My dad goes to tell the story that an lady had owned Jake for a few years, was intimidated by him and mostly left him to be a pasture pet. She decided he could be put to good use and donated him to the mounted police unit that my father worked at, and my dad had been searching for a police horse after Sebastian had failed to make the cut. So he said he would take him, well the issue is that the Unit could not GIVE anything away, so my father jokingly said "$25" and the Unit said sure, so my father bought Jake for $25 dollars and brought him home. 

Taken within the first 3 months of owning Jake

Despite the bland name I was determined to find this amazing chestnut paint when I got home. What I saw standing next to Sebastain was a fat, stocky, minimal white paint with a crazy huge head that didn't fit his short neck tied to his body. My 13 year old mind was still full of movies of black beauty, the black stallion and national velvet. None of those movies had horses that looked like Jake. Sebastian fit the dream image more. He wasn't up to expectation.

Even though I didn't like the look of him too much I saddled him up as soon as my father would let me, watch my father take him around a few times then got on myself. I didn't like him anymore on than I did off. While Sebastian was nervous, he walked at a normal pace with long strides. Jake used every muscle in his body to walk, where ever he was pointed, he was going with a purpose. His head swung from side to side from the momentum of him walking fast, his whole body was moving from him eating up the ground at a walk. Soon as you tried to slow him up, he would fight it. I didn't like it, the fast gaits, with little breaks unsettled me. I got off and said I wanted to ride Sebastian instead. The entire time we owned both Sebastian and Jake I preferred to ride Sebastian. 

But the truth was that Sebastian had problems, now I can see he was a disaster. He most likely had bad back problems that we had thought they were attitude problems. He bucked when turned in a circle, got me off once and ran down the road before someone caught him and brought him back. Another time he spooked so hard while cantering I flew off again. Then to put the icing on the cake, at a police training Sebastian threw his head, hit my father in the head then reared up and flipped over backwards breaking my fathers leg. He was always lame after any hard work and was lame with no shoes. He pulled back when tied and overall was a bad horse for me as a 12 year old kid and my father as our first horse. As mad as I was that my dad sold Sebastian I am glad he did it now before either of us got more hurt. I later heard that Sebastian sent a girl to the hospital with a concussion after we sold him, before getting sold again. I always wondered where that poor guy ended up.

But my passion for horses would not die down with the sale of my first horse. I now had to settle for the crazy fast walking, barn sour, high energy, run himself into the ground horse that I didn't really want. But it wasn't going to stop me from riding and there is was going to start.

My mother didn't know what she started

I was about three years old when my mother gave me her old Breyer collection. She was passing on her childhood passion, little did she know that this childhood dream would turn into my lifelong passion. I don't think she intended for that happen, yet happen it did. Those poor Breyer's didn't last long before super glue was required to stop my tears from the broken legs from failing to hold my weight. My poor mother had to watch pieces get chipped off and abused as I rode the Breyers around the house.

Some could claim that horses came in my blood. My mother loved horses when she was younger and did some riding where she could. On my father's side of my family my grandmother and aunt both were horse enthusiasts. They both competed in endurance and had their share of horses. My father was raised around his mother's and sister's horses but did really get into them until I did as a way to share my passion. I never got to know my grandmother to well before she passed, I have pictures and stories from family and I wish I had got to know her better. My aunt was my idol. I have clear memories of her riding Jake, a huge smile on her face, as he power housed his way through our property right after we got him.

This was Electron, (I think) I was about 7 years old in this picture.

I managed to find my way onto a horse's back every now and then. My aunt's husband's mother owned two horses. I remember loving the calm old Magic and would have anyone lead me around, loving it. Or my father visiting friends that had horses. In any way I could I would find them, you couldn't drive down a country road without me spotting out all the horses.

Cleaning Electron's Hooves (Lesson Horse)

Then eventually I got into lessons when I was 6, and it kicked off from there. I took lessons when ever I visited my father (my parents divorced when I was one and half), so that was every two weeks. My passion grew and grew, I rode western and got into gaming and rodeo. I only got to ride once every two weeks, so I took a while to become accomplished in any skills, but as I worked my way into confidence I started to get an ego. I could handle anything and everything. I laugh now, knowing how much I didn't know....how good I thought I was. I guess that is a product of any kid in a lesson program. I would always spend extra time at the stables, cleaning and playing around. It was anything my father could do to pull me away. I am ever thankful for Helen allowing me to live in my dream life for that single day every once in a while.

Horses took over my life, I lived breathed and dreamed horses. All drawings were of horses, my thoughts were always on horses, the hoofbeats replaced the sound of my heartbeat, it was all I could do to wait for the next ride. Most people consider this as being bitten by the horse bug. I was bitten with the chronic horse bug, and its never going to go away. I still hear the hoof beats echoing in my mind, I earn for nothing more than open hills and a horse beneath me...to fly over jumps and feel the freedom of a partner that needs no words. Sometimes I hear someone say "Almost every little girl gets bitten by the horse bug, then they grow out of it." I beg to differ and say they never were bitten in the first place. Everyone can get a passion for horses, then grow out of it, just as most girls grow out of princesses and stuffed animals. If you're bit, it becomes you life, you can't live without it. Imagining my life without horses is induces a feeling of chocking and loss of breath, I'm probably past the point of being obsessed, but that isn't going to change. I have my other passions, I love snow boarding I love hanging out with my friends, I love off-roading and driving my car fast. Still, horses are in my soul, and it looks like they are never going to leave.

My first gymkhana, I was on Cinnamon, another lesson horse.

My first parade on my favorite lesson horse

To Share the Experience

As I laid in the arena, watching Jake and Dutchess nap in the sunlight, I stopped to think about the journey I had taken with this horse. I once described it to someone as a roller coaster, it had its ups and downs, and its moments of breath taking fun and the stomach dropping defeat as it spirals faster than you want it to control. As of yet no person has brought me to such extreme emotions as this horse had.

Good morning Beautiful

It was hard to believe that this horse had come from the poorly trained, crazy and unobservant creature, to the one that choose to nap by me instead of with his equine friend. Now to some, this may not be much of an accomplishment. Through the years he had been raised a pastured horse, always preferring his equine company to human, he got up from laying down if anyone got near and always walked away to lay down and roll. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy human company, he was curious enough that he would come over and see what you were doing, check out and items you may have, and may try and grab a drink from your soda. Yet it always came down to the end result, if it was a human or an equine he would always choose the equine. Now I don't expect any horse to choose me over their horse friends. Jake still would prefer to be with his horse friends, but the difference is how he acts around me. The way he perks up when he sees me come into view, how he raises his head with ears forward, how he will leave his friends to walk all the way across the arena to join me, the nickers that he occasionally gives when my car rolls into the stables. Now some people say its food, you feed grain when your there. Well honestly I feed grain at the end of the day, so I'm not too sure how he associates my car to his grain when there is  2-4 hour gap in between. I may be looking into it more than I should, but for the first time in the 8+ years I have owned him I can say that he does enjoy my company. Love is a relative subject when you think of horses to humans. I don't think Jake loves me or that he misses me when I am gone. But it makes me happy to know that he enjoys being around me.

As the elation of my realization of this change sunk in I began to think, we really have a story here. Our partnership hasn't been easy, there have been more fights than accomplishments and I can say that I have been in situations where I could have died on this horse a few times. I am going to be honest, I was a very angry person for a lot of my life and the only being that saw it was Jake, some of it isn't pretty but its time that I have come clean and look towards a new beginning. Are accomplishments are outweighing our fights, and I am no longer the rider that I was. This isn't supposed to be a magical tale of love and winning in the end, its about my change as a person and the change that was brought by a stubborn crazy horse. A horse that my dad got for $25, and a horse that I didn't want.