Come As You Are

Take a rest as a friend

Last month, I wrote about how we all dress up, depending on the image we want to project (see When Witches Go Riding). It was written a little tongue in cheek for Halloween, but I think it’s true we each have our chosen personas that we put on as needed. No judgement, it’s just a thing we all do.

But I admit that this set me to wondering: where in our lives do we feel safe enough and comfortable enough to just relax into being fully ourselves? When and where and with whom can we be truly authentic, no costume required?

When I started riding horses again, I tried all different ways to get myself past the accident and the lingering PTSD from it. I had days when I tried unsuccessfully to tough it out and push through the fear. I would mount up and pretend I was fine, until my body started shaking uncontrollably and there was no getting around or through it.

As time went on I could gently “fake it till you make it” a bit more. But in the end, I had to be honest with myself and transparent with others by acknowledging what I was experiencing and just letting myself feel it.

God bless my trainer who, in her infinite patience, tried all kinds of ways to work with me until we finally hit on the place where we are now – low pressure lessons in a controlled environment – where I have the space and safety to progress a little more every week.

And, of course, it means everything to me that I have a lovely horse who, having come through some of his own issues, is willing to meet me where I am.

So yes, I’ve been thinking about this, and a lot of things, lately. The last couple of years have been chock full of change. Not just in my own life but everywhere. While there’s a lot in the world I’d argue is worse, there are also things that are better. And a bundle that is neither better nor worse, just different.

Taking a look around, very little appears the same as it once was, including me.

There used to be a shape to my daily life, a pattern that I knew. And while I wasn’t particularly content with much of it, I recognized it. I knew who I needed to be to make it work.

That shape doesn’t fit now, and I’m not always sure what skills or what part of me that I need to bring to the table. I try to be open and flexible, to just see where it takes me. I don’t always manage and have to fight off the dreaded “what ifs” cycling around in my head, hunting for danger and pitfalls. There are times when I’ve been detached, a little shut down, not sure if it is safe to expose my true self, even stepping back a little from those who know and love me best.

But the only way forward is to accept what has been.

Earlier this year I hosted a memorial for my brother. His mental illness and the trauma filled childhood I experienced because of it had cast a long shadow over my life. It was a cloud I lived under for so long that the darkness had become a part of me, affecting every relationship I ever had and everything I ever dreamt of achieving.

Finding him, who had been missing for so long we had presumed him dead, was a shock. And while he was dead by the time we found him, he had just passed. For forty years he’d been missing but alive. Though his life, full of illness and addiction, was surely not a happy one.

It is hard to describe the shock, pain, and ultimately, the relief of finally having a real ending to his story. Having some answers now, could we, could I, finally move past the darkness?

In the process of planning his memorial, I resurrected some sweet memories of a time before. Stored away with old photos and keepsakes, there was a letter he had written to me before sickness took hold of him. It was just a note accompanying a birthday gift written with love from an older brother to a little sister. Like a perfect piece of innocence that thankfully I had managed to save all these years.

That letter, those memories, allowed some light to break through. And slowly my perspective changed. I had seen myself as damaged, different, unlovable. But here in my hand I had proof to the contrary. From the person who, in so many ways, had more impact on my life than anyone else.

Perhaps this message was the legacy he meant to leave. Perhaps this is the memory that means the most. Someone loved me just because he did.

I feel like my life is remodeling itself. Like some amorphous cloud it is formless now but eventually will settle into something with shape, with matter. This is both exciting and frightening.

So, for today, I just keep moving forward, one step, one ride, one word at a time. Trusting the universe to see me through. I ride my big, beautiful, deeply soulful black gelding as I work my way back onto my strong-willed, funny, and opinionated gray mare. Each of them so very different from each other and each with so many more lessons to teach me.

It has been a rocky ride this year, yet here we are in November. The month of the Thanksgiving holiday in the US (which to be honest, is a holiday that has roots in some problematic history). But when taking my place at the table this year I can allow myself to be present and, in the moment, grateful to be surrounded by people who don’t need me to be anything other than who and what I am.

No costume required.