PTSD on the Hoof
May. 28th, 2009 12:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dancinghorseWell, that was interesting.
I didn't blog my last lesson, in April, because I had Camp Brain and Revision Brain and by the time I went to post, I couldn't remember anything but "That was the lesson I hoped for when I first started with S." It was a Gestalt, and I guess you had to be there. Mostly it was about Pooka's visceral objection to the tiny stepping exercise, and how we got around it and found a sittable trot. And that's all the detail I remember.
Since then of course there's been even more Camp, even more Revision (I have one nearly done and another one lined up behind it), too many Rain Delays, and not enough riding for my comfort. I am also behind on reading mss. Guilt. More Guilt. And, as I do every year, I did try, I really did, to ride Pook in the beautiful cool mornings so I would have more time for the others in the not at all cool but bearable evenings, and as I do every year, it lasted three rides. Because I am Not A Morning Person. Nothing I do can give me body or brain function for anything before 9 a.m. except purely physical tasks such as cleaning stalls and feeding horses. I cannot ride. My body is stiff, my brain will not work, and my energy levels are too low to measure. This frustrates me exceedingly, but reality bites, and in fact S confessed that she can't ride before 9, either. She can do groundwork and that's about it. So we go back to riding in the evenings, right into the dusk, until we can't see any more. And that's how it is.
Anyway. Today I had a PTSD attack. S asked for a specific exercise, and completely out of nowhere, I went splooie. Full-blown heart-hammering freakout panic.
I guess I've been working up to that for a while. Cut for details, but for those who skim through and would worry, there is a happy ending.
Also there are photos, but they're not in yet. Will post those when they arrive.
We started with the stepping thang in hand, and Pook has clearly been paying attention to Capria. She sneered at him the other day while demonstrating how to do it. Today he did it without fussing, fretting, veering, or having a tantrum. All it is is just freeing up the shoulders and shifting weight to the hindquarters. Really. That's all.
Under saddle, we did lots and lots and lots of legyields, or ribbon candy. First just bending the ribcage, in one direction and then the other, in walk and trot. We dealt with his conviction that he can't bend left, and my tendency to lock up and get tense and block him. I had, in schooling, finally realized in my gut that getting all tense and full of try and too much push is not smart strategy. I've been trying to ride with very very open aids, lots of release, and having it all be in the balance, without losing effectiveness. He's had Much better left bend in trot as a result, and Much better transitions.
So we worked on that. Lower leg especially right leg needs to be at the girth, not 'way the hell back on his flank. If it's back, the thigh locks and blocks. If it's at the girth, thigh is open, outside aids available for use, and horse can move freely sideways (or forward or back as indicated). Legyield is not about leg, it's a seatbone exercise. Lower leg keeps back up (fluffing the barrel so to speak) but otherwise stays quiet. Sideways impulse is from thigh/seatbone as rider floats on balance point of the horse.
We asked for more sideways and shorter ribbon loops as he got comfortable with each escalation of the exercise. Right was much easier. Going left, we got into his fits of the "I CAN'T!"s, but I used the grab strap as needed, did my best to float, and eventually he gave me his back.
Then S had us go back to the right and said, "Do the exercise from walk into trot, then when he's comfortable, ask for canter."
And I melted down. Froze up, heart started hammering, completely lost it. Needed a timeout and some serious talking down off ceiling.
It was totally unrelated to any fear of the horse. I would go through fire and sword with this horse. He bucks or fusses, I just laugh. I trust him. I love his big gaits and his fussy bits and his Opinions. He's totally made of awesome.
But I got taken apart by a master of the art, and while I'm mostly put back together now, it seems I'm still dealing with a bit of damage. Canter was the wedge issue TT used, and now we're doing it in lessons, the kind of lessons I dreamed of when I did that SRS clinic, well, yeah. Trauma.
I can canter any other horse, any way you want. From walk, from halt, from reinback or pirouette (wow, those are fun!), no problem. Green horse I've ridden maybe twice, never cantered before? Bring it on. But Pook is The Great Big Honking Hairy Deal and I got a number done on me when it comes to riding him.
S took us in under the breezeway, made me drink water, and talked me down. She gave me the option of backing out. I said no. I can't let myself ever wuss again--and that included urges to ask her to do it for me. No no no.
So we went back out. S tried a bit of variation: start on left, where the canter hasn't happened under saddle so far, get the trot legyields going, see what he does. I just want to see; we won't push it past that. He jibbed and cranked and said "I Can't." (But he shifted weight to his back end before he quit.) Fine, said S. We'll leave it there for today. Now change direction.
Back to the right, where I'd melted down. I had tried the mantra already of "This doesn't matter, it's no big deal, we can do this," before the tachycardia and the freakout started. I went for that again minus heart palpitations, and this time had enough brain cells to keep from locking up solid, and to realize that while ideally he should collect for his departs, for now he needs to go just a little fast. Not the freight train I had been letting him snooker me into, but just enough of that to give him launch velocity he could believe in.
And it worked. We achieved liftoff. I did not melt down a second time. I am exhausted and wrung out and will not be good for much else today, because fighting through traumatic stress is hard work. But it's a milestone. We'll ride all the better for it.
I didn't blog my last lesson, in April, because I had Camp Brain and Revision Brain and by the time I went to post, I couldn't remember anything but "That was the lesson I hoped for when I first started with S." It was a Gestalt, and I guess you had to be there. Mostly it was about Pooka's visceral objection to the tiny stepping exercise, and how we got around it and found a sittable trot. And that's all the detail I remember.
Since then of course there's been even more Camp, even more Revision (I have one nearly done and another one lined up behind it), too many Rain Delays, and not enough riding for my comfort. I am also behind on reading mss. Guilt. More Guilt. And, as I do every year, I did try, I really did, to ride Pook in the beautiful cool mornings so I would have more time for the others in the not at all cool but bearable evenings, and as I do every year, it lasted three rides. Because I am Not A Morning Person. Nothing I do can give me body or brain function for anything before 9 a.m. except purely physical tasks such as cleaning stalls and feeding horses. I cannot ride. My body is stiff, my brain will not work, and my energy levels are too low to measure. This frustrates me exceedingly, but reality bites, and in fact S confessed that she can't ride before 9, either. She can do groundwork and that's about it. So we go back to riding in the evenings, right into the dusk, until we can't see any more. And that's how it is.
Anyway. Today I had a PTSD attack. S asked for a specific exercise, and completely out of nowhere, I went splooie. Full-blown heart-hammering freakout panic.
I guess I've been working up to that for a while. Cut for details, but for those who skim through and would worry, there is a happy ending.
Also there are photos, but they're not in yet. Will post those when they arrive.
We started with the stepping thang in hand, and Pook has clearly been paying attention to Capria. She sneered at him the other day while demonstrating how to do it. Today he did it without fussing, fretting, veering, or having a tantrum. All it is is just freeing up the shoulders and shifting weight to the hindquarters. Really. That's all.
Under saddle, we did lots and lots and lots of legyields, or ribbon candy. First just bending the ribcage, in one direction and then the other, in walk and trot. We dealt with his conviction that he can't bend left, and my tendency to lock up and get tense and block him. I had, in schooling, finally realized in my gut that getting all tense and full of try and too much push is not smart strategy. I've been trying to ride with very very open aids, lots of release, and having it all be in the balance, without losing effectiveness. He's had Much better left bend in trot as a result, and Much better transitions.
So we worked on that. Lower leg especially right leg needs to be at the girth, not 'way the hell back on his flank. If it's back, the thigh locks and blocks. If it's at the girth, thigh is open, outside aids available for use, and horse can move freely sideways (or forward or back as indicated). Legyield is not about leg, it's a seatbone exercise. Lower leg keeps back up (fluffing the barrel so to speak) but otherwise stays quiet. Sideways impulse is from thigh/seatbone as rider floats on balance point of the horse.
We asked for more sideways and shorter ribbon loops as he got comfortable with each escalation of the exercise. Right was much easier. Going left, we got into his fits of the "I CAN'T!"s, but I used the grab strap as needed, did my best to float, and eventually he gave me his back.
Then S had us go back to the right and said, "Do the exercise from walk into trot, then when he's comfortable, ask for canter."
And I melted down. Froze up, heart started hammering, completely lost it. Needed a timeout and some serious talking down off ceiling.
It was totally unrelated to any fear of the horse. I would go through fire and sword with this horse. He bucks or fusses, I just laugh. I trust him. I love his big gaits and his fussy bits and his Opinions. He's totally made of awesome.
But I got taken apart by a master of the art, and while I'm mostly put back together now, it seems I'm still dealing with a bit of damage. Canter was the wedge issue TT used, and now we're doing it in lessons, the kind of lessons I dreamed of when I did that SRS clinic, well, yeah. Trauma.
I can canter any other horse, any way you want. From walk, from halt, from reinback or pirouette (wow, those are fun!), no problem. Green horse I've ridden maybe twice, never cantered before? Bring it on. But Pook is The Great Big Honking Hairy Deal and I got a number done on me when it comes to riding him.
S took us in under the breezeway, made me drink water, and talked me down. She gave me the option of backing out. I said no. I can't let myself ever wuss again--and that included urges to ask her to do it for me. No no no.
So we went back out. S tried a bit of variation: start on left, where the canter hasn't happened under saddle so far, get the trot legyields going, see what he does. I just want to see; we won't push it past that. He jibbed and cranked and said "I Can't." (But he shifted weight to his back end before he quit.) Fine, said S. We'll leave it there for today. Now change direction.
Back to the right, where I'd melted down. I had tried the mantra already of "This doesn't matter, it's no big deal, we can do this," before the tachycardia and the freakout started. I went for that again minus heart palpitations, and this time had enough brain cells to keep from locking up solid, and to realize that while ideally he should collect for his departs, for now he needs to go just a little fast. Not the freight train I had been letting him snooker me into, but just enough of that to give him launch velocity he could believe in.
And it worked. We achieved liftoff. I did not melt down a second time. I am exhausted and wrung out and will not be good for much else today, because fighting through traumatic stress is hard work. But it's a milestone. We'll ride all the better for it.
