Feelings Aren't Facts

Until they are.

One morning a few weeks ago, I woke up and got ready for my riding lessons. Yet even before I was out the door I was aware of feeling a bit off, a bit anxious. Maybe there were a few too many beats of my heart, maybe it was the sense that my stomach was feeling unsettled.

But of course, those are just feelings and feelings aren’t facts. So, we push on and keep going.

Thankfully, I was on the way to my happy place, the barn. The place I knew I needed to return to after decades away. The place I was convinced would help me heal from cancer and illness and grief. The place I knew I needed to counter the dreariness and stress of a corporate job. The place where I could learn more about horses and enjoy the beauty of nature and leave everything else behind.

That morning when I arrived, I got the good news that I would get to ride Ty for the first time in weeks. He’s had a problem with an abscess in his hoof that was being stubborn, so we’d been giving him plenty of time to heal.

Friesians have these big, furry feet that are like giant mops sucking up moisture. While he was being treated, we had a good spell of rain so we made sure his stall stayed dry and added extra shavings. We’d walk him inside the barn or, during breaks in the weather, we’d walk him along dryest parts of the trail. Once the round pen was dry enough for him to get some exercise, my trainer and I took him out there. We were chatting for a second while he was at liberty until we looked up to see him standing in the one puddle – the ONE puddle – still remaining. Boyfriend was not helping!

Anyway, now I was so pleased for him to be back to full form and it was a treat to be riding him again. It felt amazing. We were able to work slowly and focus on an exercise I’ve yet to master. I mean seriously, turning on the forehand looks so easy when everyone else does it but I struggle to get his ginormous rear end to move while all the time keeping his front end still. I actually got a cramp in my hip for my troubles if that tells you anything. The good thing is I was so focused on this move I could ignore the undercurrent of anxiety I’d been feeling.

I know this sounds a little woo-woo but there are actual studies that have proven the ability of horses to synchronize their hearts with humans familiar to them. Thankfully Ty brought me down to his relaxed “I’m just a cool dude who stands in puddles” level, not the other way around.

It was just me and my Ty. My past life, current life, future life, forever heart. We’re a bonded pair, the two of us, and just being in his orbit calms me.

Later in the morning, since I was feeling a little more settled, I decided to also ride Trudy. Looking back, this may have been a step too far.

Trudy is a very different soul than Ty. They each represent a different part of me. I love Trudy to bits and she is the reason this blog was started. But my Tennessee Walking Horse with the beautiful face and soulful eyes, has lots and lots of opinions that she readily shares.

Ours is a heart connection too, but it’s more like me professing my undying love for her and her saying, “yes, you are absolutely correct to do so and, frankly, why wouldn’t you?” Oh, and she might begrudgingly let me hug her if no one is looking.

Ty is big and strong and requires clear, definitive cues. Trudy demands lightness in hands and legs and does not respond well to pressure. Sometimes switching from one to the other is a challenge, especially if I have any anxiety brewing. And, of course, I did.

There’s no sugar coating it. The world feels like a scarier place than any time I can remember. It’s tempting to try and ignore what is happening somewhere else but anyone with even an ounce of empathy finds that impossible. It hurts to see families in distress. It hurts to see people, especially those trying to help others, shot and killed. It hurts to know that people you care for, neighbors you know, individuals and families that intersect with you every day, are being marginalized and reduced to living in fear.

It is so demoralizing when you think it can’t get any worse – and then it does.

Though I rode Trudy out to the trail, I ended up walking her back in. I just could not get my heart and body to regulate. Where I was able to focus and ignore it while on Ty, Trudy’s extra forward “I don’t feel like stopping when you ask me” energy overwhelmed me. I’d been teetering on the edge and this just pushed me over.

All of that grief, horror, and rage that I’d been trying to stuff down were bubbling away in my body.

But those are just feelings. Feelings aren’t facts. Until one day they are. Sitting there on Trudy, I felt everything. And with that, I dismounted and put my feet back on solid ground.

On the walk back to the barn I took the time for a heart-to-heart and reconnected with her. I reminded her of my undying love and she accepted with a, “well, duh, of course you do” toss of her head.

My desire to be a good person, a good friend, a good owner, a good horsewoman, and a good rider, can take over sometimes. After all I was raised to be a “good girl” and to not cause trouble or problems for anyone.

The noise of the rest of the world has been so intense and so loud, I’ve been living life with no room for myself. Trying to stay small – again. But if I don’t allow myself to feel my feelings, I cannot move forward.

And Trudy, because she thinks it’s her job, makes sure I feel them - every last one of them. I suffer such shame when I feel like I’ve failed and of course I had to work my way through that.

But you know what? It was okay. It was good. I have the right to fail sometimes, and I have the right to feel vulnerable.

I stayed at the barn for hours. Bathing in the presence of nature and animals and my barn family’s humor that eventually pulled me out of my self-flagellation.

The barn has always been my sanctuary. It still is.

So sure, feelings are not facts. Nonetheless, feelings are real. Allow yourself to have them.

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