The light bulb sputtered and blinked on during some girl-talk last night. I’ve been really bothered by my lack of feeling toward my own animals, lately. I still appreciate them but I just can’t seem to feel warm about them anymore, as though I'm somehow detached. And I finally figured out exactly why I needed to cycle out the paint gelding I’ve been enjoying for the last 3 years for something less needy.
This entire life event we have sustained exercised the limitations of my emotional self. I reached and returned from depths I never knew I could visit, let alone survive. In a way, it adjusted my prioritising of everything in my life. While I hang on to every successful day forward with an impossibly open heart and just try to relax and soak everything in, I’m sure that no matter how far we get with the little man, I will always have a monkey on my back.
The specialists tell us to expect cancer to return, that it is our new reality. Thing is, the little champion hasn’t actually fit into any box they try to stuff him into. Patrick refuses to even entertain the idea, like a good parent. While I certainly cling to the hope that he'll defy another of their gloomy expectations like a de-clawed cat falling out of a tree, I can’t stop my subconscious from keeping the glove pumped and ready. I think this is exactly why I can’t drum up the warm fuzzies for simple things. I actually resent anything that vacuums what little energy I have left, as though I’m scurrying to recharge before another hit and anything that inhibits that effort is detrimental to my very existence.
My animal time is my therapy. With the paint horse, a rider needs to be 110% engaged in mind as well as body, which can be a wonderfully fun way to ride when you have the luxury of enough stored emotion. For now, I need a horse that I can just turn everything off with and chill. I can appreciate and trickle what precious little I have left into a being like this with no pressure at all.
I have gratitude for all that gives me space, for all that nurtures peace.
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Best wishes that your son remains healthy. He is a doll!
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