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PTSD on the Hoof
May. 28th, 2009 12:40 pmWell, 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.
( Details )
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.
( Details )
