The Farmer’s Wife – Everyone Has a Breaking Point
Everyone has a breaking point.
If you have read my stories so far, then you will know that they are often a reflection on my farming lessons; the triumphant moments of growth and new experience that came from my years as the Farmer’s Wife. Well this story is a little different…..
Keeping up can be hard.
My husband can do just about anything he decides he wants to do; he obviously doesn’t want to pick up his clothes or put the toilet seat down, but luckily that doesn’t really bother me. Anyway, he the epitome of a ‘jack of all trades, master of none’. He can ride bikes, drive trucks and is a very proficient horseman. Over the years of our marriage he has managed to encourage me to successfully step outside my safe little box and attempt a great number of new experiences but on this occasion, success was not the outcome.
Redlock was a FREE lease horse. Now that should have set off the alarm bells right there. You know the old saying; ‘If it looks too good to be true it probably is,’ or my favourite version of the same idea ‘if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck it’s probably a duck.’
Well Redlock wasn’t a duck, he was a horse with a mind of his own and I was an inexperienced rider without the expertise to make him behave. In this photo I almost look like I know what I am doing, but I didn’t. Redlock had me pegged and measured the moment I mounted and it was only a matter of a few steps before he was off at full gallop across the paddock, me hauling on the reins until I realised I had to grab a hold of his mane just to stay upright. Fortunately he wasn’t particularly fit and once we reached the fence on the other side of the rather large paddock, he pulled up to a walk once more.
I honestly don’t remember how I got back to the shed. Maybe George led the horse back or I could have walked back. I must have blocked it form my memory (hand on brow, sigh), the trauma was obviously just too much 😉
It might not have been as drastic as all that, but I only rode a handful of times after that. George rigged up a special bridle called a martingale. It didn’t really help. Redlock went back to his owner and I met Mindi, another freebie. The outcome wasn’t so frightening, but I still couldn’t master the horse riding game.
Now this lesson took many decades to realise but I now understand what it was about riding a horse that beat me. Horses have a mind of their own. Something I couldn’t control. I might have been able to with time, in fact in hindsight I am sure that I could have, but at the time I couldn’t overcome the fear that my lack of control invoked.
When the world spins out of our control, it is probably the most difficult task we can think of to try and overcome the fear. I haven’t tried riding again, although I think that maybe I should.