Friday, 8 March 2013

Next week will be all lipstick and biscuits, I swear

I was about to write "I decided to do something about one small aspect of my incredible crapness", but then I realised it was a lie, because I was in fact coaxed, chivvied and lovingly FORCED to do something about it. That is what people who love you do, I suppose: put you in a position where they take away all your feeble excuses and if you want to entrench yourself in continued crapness, they're going to make damn sure you have to make yourself look absolutely ridiculous doing so. I took the line of least resistance and faced my fear.

My fear was: riding horses. Three years ago I had a bad accident and until last July, I had not got back on a horse. Famously, of course, this is A Bad Thing. Getting straight back on the horse is the traditional preventative remedy against developing that kind of fear, but there weren't - aren't - many horses in my daily life waiting to act as a convenient balm to my psyche.

You may think that I have more debilitating fears, failings and character faults and you would be absolutely right. This was not, in itself, hugely problematic in my daily life. I would have been better advised to conquer my inability to look at my finances straight on, or my phobia of the telephone, or my general doormattishness (I bet that's a word in German, even if it isn't in English, füssarbtretereschischkeit, perhaps). I mean, one can go about one's daily life very satisfactorily without encountering a horse, I have it on good authority. But the thing is, I wanted to encounter horses: I love horses, and loving them was part of who I was. My fear wasn't the horses themselves, it was more a (doubtless belated) realisation how dangerous riding could be, the fear that I would make a catastrophic mistake, or something would go wrong.

More problematic than that, was the way that fear, that lack of confidence in my own judgment and ability, leached into the rest of my life. I've said it before, but I feel like my prevailing emotion for the last few years has been fear, and it's a sterile and grey and uncomfortable way to live. Goodness knows, there were many and far more important causes of that than the accident - it has felt like a period when I simply can't do anything right, work, personal life, the lot - but the accident seemed symptomatic of what I had come to believe about myself: that I couldn't be trusted, that my instincts, my judgment, were all messed up.

I really didn't want to go on like this, and in a small way, this seemed like something I could address, when the big fears were too shapeless and vast. And I missed it: not in a desperate daily way, but with an occasional sadness that it wasn't part of my life any more. I was one of those pony girls growing up, my walls covered in posters of horses, my wardrobe lined with hay for my toy horses (I wish this wasn't true, but it is), my grooming kit carefully maintained and carried with nonchalant concealed pride, Pony Club tie, hairnet, subscription to Pony magazine. I grew up and away from it, not through any falling off of interest, but for a lack of opportunity (horses do not line the streets of Soho, though once a week or so, early in the morning, the Royal Cavalry would clatter past, brilliantly incongruous, in the direction of the BT tower and Regent's Park). I missed having horses in my life, the comfort of the smell of horse sweat, velvety soft whiskery muzzles, a big strong shoulder to rest your head against, all those things that I fell in love with so completely as a child.

Perhaps what I missed most, though, was the person I used to be back then. I wonder if that's what motivates so many of us to go back to, or think wistfully of, the things we did when we were younger, what moves the friends I have who have gone back to dancing, or sport, or playing an instrument. Wouldn't we all want to be effortless, fearless, certain again? Perhaps, probably, the memory is flawed, softened and warmed by nostalgia, but in my mind at least I was fearless - sometimes concussed, often thrown, straight back on and galloping on. I know I can never get back the cast-iron confidence, the idiot, cross-country jumping sense of invincibility I had at 18, that unshakeable belief that I'd be just fine - we all seem to get more frightened with age, as we see and experience human vulnerability, the devastating impact of blind bad luck on fragile flesh and bone - but I wanted to see if I could find at least a pale shadow of it again, a sliver of self-confidence.

So, chivvied and poked, as I say, I have gone back.

First, in the summer, I went for a very slow ride around the Ardennes on a sweet, slow Camargue horse, feeling what it was like to be in the saddle again, patting a warm neck.  Then, confidence slightly increased, I went back in the Ile de Ré this summer. I was quite scared: I talked a good ride, told them all the experience I had and didn't mention the accident, and then I had to grit my teeth and not show myself up. There was galloping along the beach, and cantering around the rough, wild dunes and in the forest and my heart was in my mouth most of the way and when I got off, my legs were jelly, but it was ok. Then I went back to the Ardennes in the autumn, a bit blasé by this point and expecting to be fine,  but my horse got very spooked by something in a bush and I was terrified again, that blank, primal terror. I didn't say or do anything though, because there were other people and I was embarrassed, so on we went, and there was more galloping in the forest and it was all alright in the end. It was definitely progress of sorts, but I was a bit of a wreck: it always felt like catastrophe was inches away.

And now I'm back, going once or twice a week to a new stables, for lessons. It hasn't been easy. The experience is a perfect storm of things that frighten me: driving to strange places (atually, let's be honest, driving anywhere), meeting strange people, situations with lots of rules I don't know and which are not clearly explained leading to the unbearable possibility that I might inadvertently DO SOMETHING WRONG, God forbid, plus the horse thing. God, I sound pathetic. I am pathetic. Anyway. I have soldiered on with these frightening to me if not remotely frightening to sane people activities and it is strange and absorbing, and ocasionally really joyful.

I think those outings previously had a sort of inherent drama - I was out in wild, unfamiliar environments with an unfamiliar horse, would it end in disaster? - whilst a regular lesson is quite mundane, really. After the first time, the strangeness, the social anxiety, it becomes quite ordinary. It is a lesson, where you do things repeatedly in the hope of improving the way you do them, small adjustments in your hands, your ankles, exercises, repetition. Having things to work on, techniques to perfect is both soothing and normalising: I want to improve, get my ankles lower, my back stronger, I'm not thinking about disaster when I do that. I've been anxious about getting things wrong and looking like an idiot. I've been ashamed at how out of shape I am, shocked at how much I've forgotten and how difficult things that used to be instinctive have become. Occasionally I have been tired and frustrated and despaired of ever making my body do what I need it to, but I haven't been scared, mainly. It's quite instructive to feel myself forgetting that reflexive, immediate fear gradually, my fist unclenching slowly, my breathing becoming more regular. The fear dissipates as I get absorbed in the rhythms of practice, the concentration, the subtle adjustments. I find myself wondering how I could apply that to the rest of my life. It's not the 'look no hands' wild confidence of childhood, but it's good.

What I really love best, though, is the absolute simple animal joy of being around the horses. I love the dark quiet spaces in the stables, the rustle and the scent of straw and hay, the horses warm under their rugs with velvety soft winter coats, the shockingly cold water. I love running a soft brush along a warm shoulder and watching the clouds of warm breath rise and I love getting nudged preemptorily in the back, and used as a scratching post. If anything can keep me going through the wobbles and discouragements and peaks of anxiety, it's that. So thank you to the horses.

To Sonia:

To Diego:

To Kheops:

And especially to Noblesse, my spirit animal, threadbare and neurotic, but still lovely to me.


Mrs Jones said...

Oh goodness. I decided when I turned 40 to do something I'd never done before so decided to try horse riding. I managed for about 5 years until I, too, lost my nerve, and I'd never gone beyond cantering a bit. I did, though, used to really like the groundwork with the horses - the grooming and feeding. I gave up everything to do with horses about 4 years ago and have never gone back. I wish them well but, as animals, they're just too big and unpredictable for me, although I'm glad I did it - there were, occasionally, moments of great joy, padding along on the back of a big horse, through the woodland with the sun shining through in great bars onto the undergrowth; seeing the deer in the distance disappearing into the mist; the rabbits being unafraid because, to them, you're just another animal. I do miss that.

Lydia said...

I think you're really brave. I'm to scared to even drive in this country, let alone take lessons for anything in French.

Anonymous said...

Waffle, sorry to pry, but, how can you afford it?

vivien y said...

Well done, well done. I was never a pony club girl, but I did a little bit of riding when I was a child and a teenager. The last time I rode was forty years ago in Australia, but your blog strikes such a chord with me that I may well book a lesson if not today, at least this week. Thank you.

C said...

I think this is really brave and admirable of you. I used to do horse riding and I gave it up out of fear. No great accidents for me, just one day I was that girl obsessed with horses, had all the books and stories about them and wanted nothing more than to learn to ride them, and then I started lessons and suddenly I was completely afraid of horses. I feared going near them to put on the saddle, I feared going faster than a walk and I also was afraid of my teacher, which did not help. I do sometimes miss it, and sometimes contemplate taking up lessons with a nicer teacher but I don't think I'll ever feel relaxed around horses. I think I'll instead be that adult taking up her musical instrument again. ;)

mountainear said...

I was a school girl with horsey friends - and tried hard to join in but never really 'got' their passion. Never really saw the point - and there's all those hooves and teeth to factor in too.

Anybody bothered to count up how many horse related injuries and deaths there are in the Archers?

Having said all that I do admire your bravery. Trot on.

sabina said...

Oh, I have been waiting for this post...there have been hints. I started just over three years ago after no history with horses really. About a year and a half ago I started jumping and I feel at three ft something I have hit my limit. I am forty. Sometimes I feel that getting back on that horse after a fall at a fence is the biggest thing I've ever done in my life. But it has to be done. And no, I still will not open any letters that have an official look about them.

Nimble said...

Trying to think of something to say about noblesse oblige. At any rate, good for you working with the large quadrupeds.

Johnners said...

Weeping, just real snot-filled tears of recognition and hatred of my own crippling middle-aged fear - great piece of writing, thank you. I saw you in the paper the other day and thought, it's been a long time since I read Waffle. I am an idiot, see what I've missed.

Robin said...

"things that frighten me: driving to strange places (atually, let's be honest, driving anywhere), meeting strange people, situations with lots of rules I don't know and which are not clearly explained leading to the unbearable possibility that I might inadvertently DO SOMETHING WRONG"

Hi! Nice to meet you. We are the same person.

Waffle said...

Hi Robin! We suck.

Oh Johnners. Come back and help me make you feel like shit. Sorry.

Johnners said...

Ah, it's better by far to be back, really! Things you wrote made me face up to silly fears I just don't need to have.

You do touch people you know. Obviously don't use that on your CV or anything though...

ghada said...

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بالطائف شفط بيارات
تسليك مجارى بالطائف
تنظيف خزنات بالطائف
رش مبيدات بالطائف
نقل عفش بخميس مشيط
شركة عزل اسطح بالطائف

ghada said...

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شركة نقل عفش الجبيل
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ghada said...

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شركة نقل عفش بالخبر
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ارقام شركات نقل العفش بالدمام
ارخص شركة نقل اثاث بالدمام
شركة تخزين عفش بالدمام

ghada said...

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شركة مكافحة حشرات بالدمام
شركة كشف تسربات المياه بالدمام
اهم شركات نقل العفش والاثاث بالدمام والخبر والجبيل اولقطيف والاحساء والرياض وجدة ومكة المدينة المنورة والخرج والطائف وخميس مشيط وبجدة افضل شركة نقل عفش بجدة نعرضها مجموعة الفا لنقل العفش بمكة والخرج والقصيم والطائف وتبوك وخميس مشيط ونجران وجيزان وبريدة والمدينة المنورة وينبع افضل شركات نقل الاثاث بالجبيل والطائف وخميس مشيط وبريدة وعنيزو وابها ونجران المدينة وينبع تبوك والقصيم الخرج حفر الباطن والظهران
شركة نقل عفش بالرياض
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