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.