The other day I came across this article from The Plaid Horse called “When You Fall and Don’t Bounce Anymore: An Adult Amateur Gets Back On”. I’d encourage you to go read it, but basically, it’s an adult amateur’s reflection on how she’s working to overcome anxieties that emerged after a traumatic fall. As I read Rennie Dyball’s article, I found myself nodding at the commonalities in our journeys and realizing that I’m not the only person out there struggling with these emotional battles.
If you don’t already know, last November I had an unfortunate accident that resulted in a broken nose and a concussion. Luckily, I didn’t lose consciousness or exhibit severe symptoms requiring a trip to the ER… that being said, my concussion symptoms lasted not just weeks but MONTHS. I spent a long time unable to read, look at any screens, or really watch anything that moved. I had moments of vertigo ranging from feeling slightly off balance to feeling like I was falling even though I was standing up. After months of vestibular physical therapy (or what I refer to as voodoo magic because it worked so well), rest, and slowly pushing my brain to rewire its broken bits, I was finally cleared to ride.
When my doctor gave me the go-ahead to get back in the saddle, a part of me was thrilled, but a bigger part of me was anxious as heck. Riding had always been this thing that I was passionate about, that I was good at, and that I genuinely enjoyed; yet, suddenly, it felt like maybe something I wasn’t destined to do. I was sincerely questioning not just my physical abilities, but also whether I’d ever be good enough to get back on and be safe.
One of the scariest parts about having a traumatic fall, especially one that results in an injury, is that you begin to question your instincts. Much of learning to ride is training your instincts so that you can quickly react to your horse’s needs. It’s like reading – you reach a point when some words are sight words and you only occasionally sound out new words and look them up. Riding after an injury is like reading a book when you’re pretty sure you know what the words mean, but you can’t be confident that you’re understanding the sentence correctly. And, of course, the stakes are quite a bit higher when you don’t read a message correctly on the back of the horse.
So why do it? Why even get back on if I know how hard it will be, how much anxiety it may cause, and how careful I’ll need to be? Well, because, at some point, I remember thinking this riding thing was a whole lot of fun. I pushed myself to revisit those memories of fooling around on a bareback pony as a kid, or purposefully asking for the slowest horse on a trail ride so I could hold them back and canter up to back the line. Of jumping my first triple bar oxer and thinking I might be flying. Of empowering a nervous pony and mastering the “scary” jump in the ring. I knew it might be a long time before I felt brave enough to be that kind of rider again, but somewhere deep down I knew that I had to get back in the saddle.
That first ride, I rode one of the most trusted school horses at the barn: Donnie, a large, chestnut pony with floppy ears and not a care in the world. I mounted up, gripping the reins probably a little tighter than I should have, and squeezed him forward to the walk. Every creak in the indoor made my already tense muscles flinch. Donnie, however, totally ignored me and just kept marching in the path. God bless those dead-to-the-world school ponies for not always listening to their riders 🙌
With my confidence levels slowly moving back into the positive numbers, I wrapped my legs around the pony and asked for the trot. He lifted his head and obliged, at the same steady pace, in the same straight track. As I kept posting, already noticing how sore my seat bones were, I started to feel my heels stretch deeper and my fingers soften on the reins. My brain found those familiar riding neuro pathways and was at work relaxing the muscles I didn’t need and strengthening those I did.
Since that first ride back, I’ve gone through whirlwinds of emotion – everything from joy to nervousness to disappointment to frustration. I’ve laughed at my jello legs and worked hard to listen and try my best in lessons. My motto? “Progress, not perfection.” There’s a lot about my riding right now that is not great. I’ve been out of practice, my confidence has hit rock-bottom, and I’m overthinking my instincts. As Rennie Dyball’s trainer put it, “’You’re a little bit like a spooky horse right now,’ Cindy told me. ‘We have to put you to work. Keep your brain busy.’” – So I’m keeping busy!
The most magical moment happened last week. I was jumping around a small course on a trusted pony with a calm, confident trainer. Instead of that little voice of anxiety sputtering on and on about how “This doesn’t seem right…,” “Did you hear that sound?”, and my all-time favorite, “Nope not seeing a distance, ok maybe, just kidding, YIKES,” I heard something magical. Silence. That beautiful, meditative, intense quiet when everything is firing just right and my brain is so overtaken by focus that there is no more room to question. And you can bet that I finished that course meeting each distance and turn with as much grace and precision as I could muster.
Still cantering through the final turn, with a smile beaming on my face, I put both reins in my outside hand, turned to look at my trainer, and pumped my fist in the air as I cantered a victory lap. “I did it!!”
Progress is not easy, especially when your confidence has been skidding at rock bottom for a while after a traumatic fall or injury. This is an opportunity for me to relearn my fundamentals so that when I’m back at my peak, I’m a stronger rider overall. There are going to be frustrations, sore muscles, and probably a lot of sweat (physical and anxiety-induced) as I conquer my fears and push myself to be better. The good news is that I’m already having fun and I really didn’t think that would be in the cards for months to come. There is hope, optimism, and potential as long as I focus on the progress that’s being made, knowing that progress will lead to better riding. The goal is progress, not perfection.
Reading Suggestion: Check out “Unlock Your Potential with One Word” for a reminder on how to stay positive as you track your progress!