Boots or no Boots....

So begins the saga of Sue, Donna, Sharon and Michele. We rode together on the weekends when there was no Team Penning.  When there was, Sharon and I gladly watched from our trusty steeds.  We peered over the fence of the massive cow arena and cheered our girls on week after week. I even went as far as donning a cowboy hat and buying crystal pocket jeans.  Life was good, but still…something was missing.  I didn’t have much confidence in Dakota.  I knew that to be true when Donna decided to see what I was actually talking about.  One round through our indoor arena, and Donna validated all my thoughts and fears. She handled Dakota well but still understood my feelings about her.  Sometimes, I could feel her nerves through her spine.  I didn’t want to believe that after all the work Tom put into her, that I was still a failure and still really didn’t want to ride her.

I did though.  I hesitated through every lesson.  I discovered that besides not being able to swing my fat ass over my horse, I feared my feet would get caught in the stirrups... get dragged around the arena like a rag doll, hit my head and die.  I feared that she would rear and I would be flipped off… stepped on or trampled if she fell back on me, hit my head and die…I feared that she would buck, I’d go flyin’ over her head, slam my body into the wall, knock my teeth out and hit my head and die….

By this time, Tom Riley was quite used to me and the “real” Tom Riley finally showed his cowboy face.  Gone was the sweet, gentle, kind, horse-lovin, cowboy that we knew….

“No, Tom, I don’t like these boots, they are tight in the stirrups…I’m gonna get stuck”

“WWAHHH WWAHHH WAHHH...  all ya damn do is whine….Will you git yer damn ass in the saddle.  Take off yer f’n boots for Chrissakes… I don’t care…. Ride f’n barefoot then” (He did use the full expletive by the way…) Jes git on the damn horse”

Yup.That was Tom Riley.  

 So I did… took me  10 mins of my lesson to get on… then… get down, take off my boots.. Only 5 to get back on... and rode in my damn socks.

 Didn’t help and I looked ridiculous in socks…

So I got wider stirrups.  Didn’t help.

I will never forget the conversation I had with a dear 6^th generation psychic friend of mine, Linda Lauren. We talked about my fears and anxiety when riding. I told her of the day I found Dakota, the training she went through and even the many times I attempted to ride her.  

Linda was gifted and talented.  She has given me chills on countless occasions and always right on with everything she says.  This particular conversation was distressing to me.  I told her, “Tom says this is the right horse for me for what I want to do…and I try week after week. Why can’t I do this?  Why can’t I trust her?” Her simple, blatant statement was heartbreaking and I refused to believe it.  “No, she’s the right horse for Tom.  She is not the one for you. You haven’t found her yet” 

 Yea, well, how did she know?  Every horse is the right one for Tom.  This was my paint, and I wasn’t going to believe that. I heard choirs of Angels call to me when I found her….Of course it would seem obvious for Linda that Dakota wasn’t for me…When was I going to stop feeling this way?  I felt the same on every horse I rode… or dared to ride…. So why was Dakota so wrong for me? Maybe just riding wasn’t for me…

YEA… um no Linda, I don’t believe you this time.

My girls kept my spirits up.  They kept me laughing and riding. I even took the suggestion of one of my dear cowgirls… get hypnotized to be able to ride, it works!!

 So, 125 dollars later off I went to the hypnotist. I liked her… she was soft spoken and understanding.  I started from the beginning with Satin to the present with Dakota.

I remember the entire session... which tells me something went awry.  Are we not supposed to remember a hypnosis session??  I don't really think I went under...I remember her asking me (amidst my deepened slumber???)   think of a good time with Satin… a time when you were happy riding her…

So I did

Now... think of Dakota... your beautiful horse.  See yourself in that happy moment with her... instead of Satin.

Yea, ok... the only thing I could do was associate Dakota with the fear of death.

Long story short…didn’t help. 

 Oh… and I still had to take my shoes off.