'Tis the Season?

I really thought this season was going to be different. Last week, I watched a ridiculous Christmas Hallmark movie...and enjoyed it! Our favorite Christmas tree farm advertised their upcoming hours, and I imagined Chad and I trekking through the fir scented rows to find a fat little tree to hang lights upon and place gifts beneath. Dare I say, as the holidays grew nearer, I confidently felt the jolliness that many associate with it all.

Yesterday morning, Grief wrapped around me like a blanket. Uninvited, it slipped upon my shoulders, pushing out the previous week's dreams of holiday cheer. 

Nothing out of the ordinary precipitated this heavy arrival, yet everything feels different now. Any desire to drag out Christmas decorations, hang lighted garland upon the mantle, jingle bells, or sing carols evaporated.  

I can't help but compare this to what's been going on with Cappy, my poor, sweet Mustang gelding who has slid backward in his comfort level after one too many things. During training sessions, I am careful to watch for heightened stress, be aware of possible trigger stacking, and act accordingly to keep him below threshold. The past couple months, however, have held one event after another. Imagine a slightly stressful event that is somewhat discomforting, but you manage it. Then, another thing, small, but again, manageable. There's almost enough time between these smaller things to regain your footing, but not quite; and then it all becomes too much. For Cappy, it was a little hoof care trouble, a change in environment with farming equipment and visitors, goose hunters machine gun firing and hidden beneath camouflaged blinds before jumping up to gather dead birds, a stream of new people coming to meet him for hoof and health care, and then, the final straw when his hind end went wonky. 

It was too much for him to process, so now I face the wariness and caution, his unease that keeps him just a bit further away and requires short, short sessions again that focus on relaxation and rebuilding the trust bank account that was depleted. Necessary, but heartbreaking for me.

As the weight descended upon me yesterday, I recognized it immediately. I didn't want to feel this way, and hoped that a solid CrossFit session might be the remedy. Shopping for Thanksgiving groceries was next. I'm looking forward to our brunch plans with the one child who upheld my request for a full on, all kids present for Thanksgiving this year. This morning I wrapped all the Christmas presents I've bought so far. I spent time in the dreary, rainy pasture snuggling Sweet Pea and whispering encouraging love words to Cappy. Yet, Grief holds tightly.

Cappy doesn't want to feel this way, and neither do I, yet we are feeling the heft of it anyway. Somehow, thinking about myself in terms of Cappy's feelings allows me to gift myself grace to find my way. I know Cappy needs time and patience, that he has every right to feel his feels, and that I will listen to his voice and choices. Eventually, we will get back to where we were and even move beyond; and so will I. 

While writing Mustang Memoir: It's Not Just About the Horses, moments around horses that have shaped me became clear and sharp. This is simply one more lesson. As I give grace and time to horses and other people, I will do the same for myself. As confident as I am knowing Cappy will find his way, I know this heaviness laid upon me will not last forever. 

Writing, snuggled in my couch nest beneath my soft, orange blanket, dogs snoring softly, peppermint tea steaming in a favorite mug at my elbow will help me in the meantime. Whether twinkling lights are hung this year upon a tree or not, the holidays will come and go. I will miss and mourn and maybe shed tears, but I will also laugh and love and savor the joy.