Kristine E. Brickey

Life is not fair. There are always going to be people who figure out how to work the system, find the loopholes, win without actually earning the win.  This makes me a little crazy...and not in my normal, okay if people don't appreciate my crazy, crazy.  I work really hard to achieve my goals. When I do my best, when I know I have done all I could do, and then get beat to the finish, I am okay with the result. It pushes me further in future attempts. However, when I do my best but get beat at the finish because of loopholes, rules being set aside, trickery if you will...it gnaws at me, burns a hole in my calm, wakes me as I mentally twist and turn with the unfairness of it all. Turn the other cheek. Forgive and forget. Let it go. It's what the loophole seekers, the rule benders, the tricksters are hoping for in order to continue their methods, in order to keep nudging out the ones who play by the rules, who ignore bad behavior by others, who take the infamous high road. Seemin...

The idea of being still. The Universe has been none too subtle in sending me this message. Stillness, not in the sense of being frozen. Quite the opposite actually. Finding peace in stillness, in not moving, allowing my heart and mind to settle, to feel, to process the feels...whoooof!  Can you do this? Truly be still, assess your mind set, and acknowledge stressors? Anyone feeling that queasiness, the need to move, to avoid?  After Robbie died, my mantra was 'Tamp it down, tamp it down, wayyyy down!' But that was then. I needed to stay busy. I needed to survive. Recovery, finding life (credit to Salman Rushdie for putting it so perfectly in his memoir, Knife) means DEALING WITH THE ISSUES I had been keeping outside my bubble.  Yikes, right? Last week, I headed to Spin to Win Horsemanship, Naomi Rutter's lovely farm in Chatham, Michigan. Cinder and I were participating in a Balance Through Movement Method clinic led by Stacia Strong. The focus (in a nutshell) was helping ...

I am on my phone in the midst of a heavy, emotional discussion. Sitting cross legged on my bed, my heart is exposed in the way only May is capable of these days. Grief. Boundaries. Prioritizing my needs against disappointment, expectations, and dismissiveness. Some heavy topics for a Monday morning, but important and necessary. Cleansing even. As I contemplate things with a trusted friend, I see Cappy through my bedroom patio door. He stands relaxed near the back of the west pasture. Just watching him calms me, fills my bucket if you will. My heart rate slows as I see him droop into a sigh and drop gently onto the green blanket of spring's grass. My sweet gelding lays down, comfortable enough to chill out even though Cinder is still in the center pasture after morning feeding. Red stands about twenty feet away, not on guard, simply resting. Watching this, I grace myself with acknowledging how much Cappy trusts me, how far I have helped him come since we first met. This is important...

Unexpected sunshine on a lazy February day. An afternoon of riding Pinckney's trails awaited. Temperate weather had my horses mud encrusted, gleefully rolling in the muckiest of places before drying and baking until done. If I was going to ride, grooming was necessary. I headed outside. Glancing into the middle pasture, I took note of my Mustangs, both napping on the ground, legs curled up beneath them, within ten feet of each other. Cinder's nose actually rested on the ground, her head tipped slightly. She was deep in rest mode, taking full advantage of her mini donkey guardian, Little Red, who stood in the space between his horse companions, alert to any danger. A part of me wanted to tiptoe back into the house and leave them in the warmth of winter sun. Another part wondered...would they let me approach as they lay down, vulnerability high? Just the week before, I had spoken with a friend and trainer about my jealousy when she shared pictures of herself sitting beside her pr...

...BUT IT IS SO MUCH MORE! It's Robbie's blue hat, one of the few things I have of his. I wear it, and feel him with me when I need it most. I feel him watching over me, especially when I need it most. This morning, I readied to go out for chores, grabbed my quilted flannel shirt off the hook, and reached for the blue hat. I always hang it on the hook above the flannel. I grabbed for it without having to look, but no hat. Slight moment of panic, but this has happened before. It is exactly why I now ALWAYS hang it on the hook. Deep breath. Calm yourself, Kristine. My hand reaches into the deep front pocket of the flannel (second storage spot). Nothing. The other pocket is searched. Nada. Panic. "I can't find my blue hat!" Chad turns from where he is standing in the kitchen. He knows it is more than a knit cap that keeps my head warm in winter.  Frantic, I rush into our coatroom, searching the cubbies, the hanging jackets and coats, their pockets, even though I know...

Recently, a number of friends reached out to share a post written by a former friend and business acquaintance. Each person who brought it to my attention did so with the best of intentions. They were angry for me, wanting to protect me, and hoping to keep me aware in case of future, well, attacks is the best way to phrase it. Their love and caring was much appreciated. I should have simply left it there, but I made the mistake of reading the post anyway. As I read, my muscle memory brought me back into the feelings of sadness, betrayal, and disappointment that ultimately led me to disassociate from the author of the post. It would have been incredibly easy to fall back into a pit of negativity, to feed the desire to defend myself, or follow the urge to point out the falsehoods being revived. For a few minutes, I'll admit, these were all pulling my fingers toward the keys; but, as my heart raced and my blood pressure rose, I paused. Responding was not going to resolve the break or ...

I've needed to write this piece for weeks. It's evaded me, my pen, slipping away like smoke in the wind until this morning. I heard the words, replayed the segment three times to make sure I heard it correctly, felt the rightness of it. Reached for my writing tools. Finally. Grey's Anatomy . Season 4: Episode 9- "This day, this day, you feel helpless...this day makes you grateful you have a chance to do anything at all. Take it in."  Robbie died May 16, 2010. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. Near the end of Grey's Anatomy , the season with the mass hospital shooter stalking McDreamy and doctors and surgeons.  After Robbie's funeral and all that roiled around in association with that terrible, awful, horrible time, a friend warned me off watching the remaining episodes of that season of  Grey's , possibly my favorite show. She had watched the episodes she knew I dvr'd. She did not want me to witness death after death, gunshots, bullets, and blood. There was ...