My Horse = My Family's Therapist

Dr. Sug - Therapist Extraordinaire

I guess there's no stage in life that one would call particularly easy, but seventh grade really seems to be a bear.  I remember it being pretty rough for me, and this past year has been one of change (good and bad) and challenge for my son as well.  The good thing, the constant thing, is that we have the horses.  They give us so much, both when times are good and when they are not so good.

When I think back to my own middle school experience I cringe.  Middle school was the height of my awkward years.  Think two rows of teeth (my baby teeth hadn't fallen out but my adult teeth had come in) combined with really thick coke bottle glasses, topped off with a really bad perm.  Oh, and I was 5'6" and had really big boobs (36DDD).  Basically, Mr. Magoo crossed with Jaws crossed with Jane Russell's body Weird Al Yankovic's hair.  Yeah, I know, NIGHTMARE!!!

I spent hours at the barn where I took lessons, crying into my favorite horse's manes.  It's a miracle poor Lazy and Andy didn't develop rain rot from all the dampness I subjected them to.  Bless their hearts, their company and silent approval is what got me through those gawdawful years.

My son did not inherit my crappy eyesight or teeth (many thanks to the PB's gene pool!) but is certainly having his own rough times finding his place in the middle school world.  The other day I picked him up and my heart broke as I saw him walk out of the school, alone, while others in his class spilled out in groups. I asked him what was going on with his friends (he's got a few really good ones, but I like to touch base now and then about the larger picture) and he burst out with, "I have none!  Nobody likes me!"  Thus started a very long conversation, fraught with emotion on both sides.

Thankfully it was a barn night.  By the time we'd managed to fight through rush hour traffic we were both almost vibrating with tension.  My daughter bustled off to her pony's stall, and Noah and I walked over to get my mare.  Sugar was pressed up against the stall door, and as soon as we opened it she began frantically licking us.  She's a licker, kind of an equine version of a Golden Retriever, but this time she was almost frenetic in her efforts.  Her big head swiveled from me to my son, then back again, as she determinedly slobbered us from stem to stern.  She used her head to pull my son in to her chest, cradling him in the curve of her neck as she focused her efforts on me.  After a few minutes she decided she'd done all she could with me, pushed Noah out so she could reach him, and pulled me in to the curve of her neck.  She then set about licking my son.

Sugar groomed us for about 15 minutes, refusing to let us move away or stop her, until we were both helpless with laughter.  Our hair was sticking straight up, we had green slobber all over our faces and arms, and our shirts had been pulled out of our jeans.  We looked a mess, but we were both smiling and relaxed for the first time in hours.  Finally she stopped, looked us over and sighed heavily, clearly exhausted but satisfied with her efforts.  She knew she'd done her job and her people were now back to normal.

Noah and I pulled Sug out of her stall and set about returning the favor, scratching her in all her favorite places, grooming her, and then massaging her.  Noah took her out for a bit of a graze while I coached Soph for a bit, and when I went to check on them I heard him chatting quietly to her.  I don't know what he said, or how she answered him.  All I know is that when I drove home that night my son was smiling, relaxed and happy.  No doubt there will be other rough moments in the coming years.  I'm just so thankful we have Sug to help us through them.

More Mental Performance Coaching: There Really IS Something to This Stuff!

A present from me to you. Your very own Self Talk Grid.
Don't say I never gave you anything. ;)

If you're new to AWIP or haven't been following religiously (and there's no judgement here, we all have busy schedules) you should know that I've been using a mental performance coach to help me deal with the fear issues I face when jumping.

I've been working with Sommer Christie while my trainer has been away at WEF, and have seen some pretty impressive progress even after just a few sessions. (Who knew?)  This weekend I had my first two jump schools with my recently returned trainer, and quite frankly, I was a bit nervous about them.  In the past, nerves could easily translate into Amy in the fetal position.

Last week's session with Sommer was on Self Talk and how that impacted Focus (the previous session's lesson.)  It started with Sommer stating, "Now we know that every day is not going to work out the way we want it to." My immediate (and thankfully suppressed) reaction was "Really?? No sh@#! Knew that!"  I pulled my smart aleck brain back to the moment and listened as Sommer continued by saying although things don't always go to plan, we choose what we focus on and how we react.  OK, now you've peaked my interest.

In the past, I would go around a course with a litany of "Holy Crap!" in my head.  With Sommer's help, I can now go around with my mind focused on my task, which at the moment is my rhythm.  It's a bit Sesame Street and I look a tad "special" cantering around counting out 1-2-1-2-1-2, but it's been working.

So now that we're getting a bit better at Focus, we need to learn how to manage anxiety when things don't go according to plan.  How can I manage the "Oh Crap! I totally flubbed that distance!" moment and get my focus back? 

Turns out part of managing anxiety and nerves is Focus.  Since I choose what I focus on, i choose to focus on my task.  This weekend, instead of focusing on the nerves I had as I jumped with my trainer for the first time in 6 weeks, I focused on my rhythm: 1-2-1-2-1-2.  Where all my distances perfect?  Not by a long shot.  However, when I chipped into a line, I was so focused on my task that my knowledge base/muscle memory kicked in and instead of panicking I simply kicked on to lengthen my mare's stride and we got down the line beautifully.  WHOOHOO!

Another part of managing anxiety is managing your reaction to it. One way to handle that is by eliminating Negative Self Talk.  For example, normally I would see a triple bar and start saying to myself, "Oh no, there's a triple bar on that course.  I always suck at triple bars," and work myself up into a tizzy. 

A giggle graphic from a blog I like,
The Wanderlust Project

Sommer gave me a Self Talk Grid to work with to help change my self talk.  So I know that when I see a triple bar I know that I normally allow myself to think "I always suck at triple bars," which usually results (inevitably) in a crap distance at the triple and ensuing chaos around the rest of the course. NOW I change my Self Talk to remind myself of past success or counter arguments as to why a crap distance is inevitable and tell myself "Oh, a triple bar.  I've done this successfully at home a bazillion times. No biggie." I also now use key words, or Anchors, to remind myself of these past successes. (These days my Anchor is Bad A$$, to remind me I'm like the Honey Badger.)

You can also manage your anxiety by managing your body's reaction to stress. When Sommer asked me how I might do that, I blurted out "Xanax! Girl Scout Cookies! Wine!"  The silence at the other end of the line alerted me to the fact that this was not the answer Sommer was looking for.  Turns out deep, rhythmical breathing (there's that rhythm thing again!) at the rate of 6 breaths per minute syncs your breathing up with your heart rate and shuts off your stress response.  Think slllooooooowwwwww breath in through your nose and then sllllloooooooowwwww breath out through your mouth.  I remember something like this in Labor Class.  While it didn't do squat in terms of reducing the pain of childbirth (thank God for epidurals!) it's been darn helpful with triple bar stress management!

So I breathed and counted my way through two very successful jumping lessons this weekend, and quite frankly, I'm happy as a pig in poop.  Did I already know most of this stuff Sommer is sharing with me?  Yes.  It's not like we've discovered a new solar system or anything.  However, was I using that knowledge in a logical, consistent manner? Nope.  And that was the problem.  Now I am, and while things are not and will never be perfect, I am getting better at living with that, and adjusting to it accordingly.

Therapy for the Therapy? What's THAT About?

Saw this on Facebook and liked it. 
Certainly resembles my path.

"I thought the horse WAS the therapy?" That was my bemused husband’s first comment to me after I told him that I was speaking with a Mental Performance Consultant for my jumping related fear issues.  “I don’t get it. If the horse WAS the therapy, NOW why do you need therapy?”

It’s not a fear of looking bad, or making a fool of myself. It’s a “Holy crap, one of us is gonna die!” kind of fear. Which, understandably, affects my riding. For example, I’ll be riding to a fence and I start feeling the fear, and I start choking up on my mare. Then, I realize we’re going too slow for her to clear the fence, and I make a last second desperate attempt to gun her at the fence. Kind of a “STOP! No, crap, that’s wrong. Um, GO! Yeah, GO!!!” thing. Which is, of course, not fair to the horse at all and very likely to cause exactly the kind of catastrophic accident I’m worried about.

I don't want to stop jumping. I’ve read a few book on sports psychology and fear, and watched a number of videos. They’ve helped a bit. However, we’ve reached a point where self-help and self-diagnosis aren’t enough. I’m tired of coming home from jump schools frustrated with myself, and so I decided that now is the time to bring in a professional.

Session One
I contacted Sommer Christie, who is a certified Mental Performance Consultant, member of the Canadian Sport Psychology Association, and guest blogger on Horse Junkies United, a site I contribute to.  Session One basically covered the ground work — what did I think my issues were, when do I think they appeared, were there any times when I didn’t feel fear, how were those times different than when I did feel fear?  My skill sets and ability don't change on any given day, so what separated my Peak Performances from my Weak Performances?

During our chat we kept circling back to the idea of “preparedness.” I am a bit of a control freak, and when things go cattywumpus, I feel an intense need to go back to the basics.  Which Sommer said was a good thing as when we are in optimal performance mode, our body reacts through muscle memory. By making sure my basic skills were honed, I was actually setting myself up for success. A firm foundation in the basic skill sets allows the body to perform by rote (again, paraphrasing here) which creates kind of a comfort zone, or safety net if your mind is intent on assuming the fetal position. So, when I feel better “prepared,” maybe because of more basic skills work, I ride with more confidence. End of Session One. 

Homework was to think about my best performance ever, and what was significant about it? How did I prepare? What was I thinking before starting the round, and what was I thinking about during the round? Did I lose focus at any point? If so, how did I get it back?  Then I needed to identify the gaps.

This is so true. 
More than one way to get to Rome, after all.

Session Two
We pretty much began where we left of the week before, with the concept of "Preparedness."  I need to feel secure in order jump with confidence, and we talked about what I could do to prepare myself for the show season.  One of the things I identified was practicing over poles in order to become more comfortable with distances.  Another was more work without stirrups to have a stronger, more secure seat. 

Sommer let me know that it was not enough to simply have these goals, but that I needed to set them out as specific practice plans and then hold myself accountable with measurable results.  For example, I needed to go into each practice with a plan. For example, each day I could set up an exercise of poles and commit to cantering them 50 times.  As I rode, I needed to keep track of how many successful distances I hit and how many misses I had.  I also needed to be mindful of what happened when things went right and when things went wrong.

Afterwards, I need to do what's called a Debrief.  That means I need to write down (this is the important part -- you have to write it down in a journal) what parts of my training went really well and why. Then I need to ascertain what parts of my training need to be improved and figure out how. It's important to recognize what I did well as well as any mistakes that were made.  The object is to recognize and reward successes, and then recognize mistakes in order to learn from them. It's also important to keep mistakes in context.  Mistake = learning opportunity, and not time to pull on a hair shirt.  For example, I could write that I missed too many distances because I was off balance, however, I made more distances today than yesterday.

After all the debriefing analysis comes the action plan.  Given what happened in my training session, what are the necessary steps that I need to take in order to improve my performance? Is that more poles? More no-stirrup work? Longe line lessons?  Remember, each step must have measurable results (ie. 50 poles gives me X number of good distances and Y number of misses that I can compare to previous sessions.)

So yesterday I had a lesson and we went over poles, poles, and more poles.  Some of the poles were set in a circle, like the face of a clock.  The poles were set at 12, 3, 6, and 9 and walked 6 strides between each.  I went round and round those damn poles and I got 7 strides, 8 strides, 6 strides -- you name it, I got it.  Then we bounced over 2 poles set in the corner of the arena.  Same kind of result there.  Some good rides, but more less than stellar attempts.

Oye veh, I could tell my Debrief was gonna be a long one.

Much Needed Equi-Therapy...

This pretty much illustrates how I felt about this past week.

Ever have one of those weeks where you just feel like you're the bug under somebody's boot heel?  The sense of helpless frustration when you're powerless to affect change of any kind?  That was my week.  Some people can handle that kind of a week with graceful aplomb. Not me.  With me there's lots of gnashing of teeth, hand wringing, occasional foot stomping, and fantasies of retribution.

Hey, I said I was an adult - I never claimed to be mature. 

So anyway, lousy week.  Between being wretchedly sick and issues at work I hadn't been able to get to the barn in 5 days, which added to my cranky factor.  I was able to go tonight, and was scheduled to have a lesson.  Part of me was tempted to schedule the lesson as it had been so long since I'd ridden, and adding that to my less than sunny frame of mind did not bode well in terms of having a productive lesson.  I seriously considered just bailing on the lesson and just hacking Sug.

I pulled Sug out of her stall and began to groom her, all the while griping to my best barn buddy.  As I griped and groomed, Sug kept turning her head and shoving me in my arm or shoulder.

Hey!  Where's my treat?  You forgot to give me my treat.  What's up with that?

Sorry Sug, can you wait a bit, I'm trying to tell Libby about my crappy week.

Wait?  Why?  For how long?  And how come you didn't do kisses?  We always do kisses when you come.  You hug me and kiss my nose and I lick you.  That's what we do.

I'm sorry Sug, I just needed to talk to Libby and calm down.

You're not calming down, you're getting worked up.  It's because we didn't do the kisses. I'm the best friend here.  You should be grooming me and talking to me and giving me kisses because that's what makes you feel better.  Must I tell you everything?  Give me my nose kisses and go get my saddle and we will go ride and then it will be fine.

So I did what I was told, tacked her up and went in to the ring for my lesson. Surprisingly, I didn't ride badly.  Thankfully, tonight focused on trot poles and gymnastics, which I love.  I love them because once I get her to the gymnastic, my job is pretty much to support with my legs but other than that, stay in the middle and out of her way.   I can't over think, definitely should not over-ride, and that is a good thing for a control freak /over-analyzer like me. 

The Sainted Mare pretty much took control and we bounded through the sets of rails.  A couple of times I had to correct for her right drift or add a bit more leg at the base, but most of the exercise was just letting Sug do all the work and take care of us.  About halfway through I noticed I was feeling way more relaxed and at peace with my world, and let out a deep breath while stroking her shiny neck.  She let out a big sigh immediately after I did and turned around to look back at me.

Took you long enough.  You do realize you clench when you're stressed, you know.  I'm going to need another massage after schlepping you around tonight.

Yes, dear, I know.  I'll work on you after we're done.

So after my lesson I groomed her and massaged her a bit, and getting rid of her tension got rid of the last of mine.

See, I'M the best friend.  You always feel better after talking to me and grooming me and kissing my nose.  I bet you'll feel really good after you give me some of those Stud Muffins and I tell you how much I enjoyed them by licking you all over.

You know something?  My Big Girl was right.

Of course I was right.  I'm always right. When WILL you get that through that tiny little cranium of yours?

Someday, Sug.  I promise. Good night, Mare.  I love you.  See you tomorrow.  And thank you.

You're welcome.  See you tomorrow.  Don't forget the treats.

Can I tell you how much I love that horse?